Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  F. B. —— Well, this is a very new style to me! I have long enough had reason to think myself loved, but admiration is perfectly new to me.

  Dr. J. —— I admire her for her observation, for her good sense, for her humour, for her discernment, for her manner of expressing them, and for all her writing talents.

  I quite sigh beneath the weight of such praise from such persons —— sigh with mixed gratitude for the present, and fear for the future; for I think I shall never, never be able to support myself long so well with them.

  We could not prevail with him to stay till Mrs. Montagu arrived. . . .

  When dinner was upon table, I followed the procession, in a tragedy step, as Mr. Thrale will have it, into the dining-parlour. Dr. Johnson was returned.

  The conversation was not brilliant, nor do I remember much of it; but Mrs. Montagu behaved to me just as I could have wished, since she spoke to me very little, but spoke that little with the utmost politeness. But Miss Gregory, though herself a very modest girl, quite stared me out of countenance, and never took her eyes off my face.

  When Mrs. Montagu’s new house was talked of, Dr. Johnson, in a jocose manner, desired to know if he should be invited to see it.

  “Ay, sure,” cried Mrs. Montague, looking well pleased; “or else I shan’t like it: but I invite you all to a house warming; I shall hope for the honour of seeing all this company at my new house next Easter day: I fix the day now that it may be remembered.”

  Everybody bowed and accepted the invite but me, and I thought fitting not to hear it; for I have no notion of snapeing at invites from the eminent. But Dr. Johnson, who sat next to me, was determined I should be of the party, for he suddenly clapped his hand on my shoulder, and called out aloud,

  “Little Burney, you and I will go together!”

  “Yes, surely,” cried Mrs. Montagu, “I shall hope for the pleasure of seeing “Evelina.”“

  “Evelina?” repeated he; “has Mrs. Montagu then found out Evelina?

  “Yes,” cried she, “and I am proud of it; I am proud that a work so commended should be a woman’s.”

  Oh, how my face burnt!

  “Has Mrs. Montagu,” asked Dr. Johnson, “read Evelina?”

  “No, sir, not yet; but I shall immediately, for I feel the greatest eagerness to read it.”

  ,”I am very sorry, madam,” replied he, “that you have not read it already, because you cannot speak of it with a full conviction of its merits: which, I believe, when you have read it, you will find great pleasure in acknowledging.”

  Some other things were said, but I remember them not, for I could hardly keep my place: but my sweet, naughty Mrs. Thrale looked delighted for me.

  I made tea as usual, and Mrs. Montagu and Miss Gregory seated themselves on each side of me.

  “I can see,” said the former, “that Miss Burney is very like her father, and that is a good thing, for everybody would wish to be like Dr. Burney. Pray, when you see him, give my best respects to him; I am afraid he thinks me a thief with his Linguet; but I assure you I am a very honest woman, and I spent full three hours in looking for it.”

  “I am sure,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “Dr. Burney would much rather you should have employed that time about the other book.”

  They went away very early, because Mrs. Montagu is a great coward in a carriage. She repeated her invitation as she left the room. So now that I am invited to Mrs. Montagu’s, I think the measure of my glory full!

  When they were gone, how did Dr. Johnson astonish me by asking if I had observed what an ugly cap Miss Gregory had on? And then taking both my hands, and looking at me with an expression of much kindness, he said,

  “Well, Miss Burney, Mrs. Montagu now will read Evelina.”

  To read it he seems to think is all that is wanted, and, far as I am from being of the same opinion, I dare not to him make disqualifying speeches, because it might seem impertinent to suppose her more diffcult to please than himself.

  “You are very kind, sir,” cried!, “to speak of it with so much favour and indulgence at dinner; yet I hardly knew how to sit it then, though I shall be always proud to remember it hereafter.” “Why, it is true,” said he, kindly, “that such things are disagreeable to sit, nor do I wonder you were distressed; yet sometimes they are necessary.”

  Was this not very kind? I am sure he meant that the sanction of his good opinion, so publicly given to Mrs. Montagu, would in a manner stamp the success of my book; and though, had I been allowed to preserve the snugness I had planned, I need not have concerned myself at all about its fate, yet now that I find myself exposed with it, I cannot but wish it insured from disgrace.

  “Well, sir,” cried I, “I don’t think I shall mind Mrs. Montagu herself now; after what you have said, I believe I should not mind even abuse from any one.”

  “No, no, never mind them!” cried he; “resolve not to mind them: they can do you no serious hurt.

  Mrs. Thrale then told me such civil things. Mrs. Montagu, it seems, during my retreat, inquired very particularly what kind of book it was?

  “And I told her,” continued Mrs. Thrale, “that it was a picture of life, manners, and characters.

  But won’t she go on?” says she; surely she won t stop here?”

  ““Why,” said! “I want her to go on a new path —— I want her to write a comedy.

  ““But,” said Mrs. Montagu, “one thing must be considered; Fielding, who was so admirable in novel- writing, never succeeded when he wrote for the stage.”“

  “Very well said,” cried Dr. Johnson; “that was an answer which showed she considered her subject.”

  Monday, September 21. ——

  I am more comfortable here than ever; Dr. Johnson honours me with increasing kindness; Mr. Thrale is much more easy and sociable than when I was here before; I am quite jocose, whenever I please, with Miss Thrale; and the charming head and life of the house, her mother, stands the test of the closest examination, as well and as much to her honour as she does a mere cursory view. She is, indeed, all that is excellent and desirable in woman.

  I have had a thousand delightful conversations with Dr. Johnson, who, whether he loves me or not, I am sure seems to have some opinion of my discretion, for he speaks of all this house to me with unbounded confidence, neither diminishing faults, nor exaggerating praise. Whenever he is below stairs he keeps me a prisoner, for he does not like I should quit the room a moment; if I rise he constandy calls out, “Don’t you go, little Burney!”

  Last night, when we were talking of compliments and gross speeches, Mrs. Thrale most justly said that nobody could make either like Dr. Johnson. “Your compliments, sir, are made seldom, but when they are made they have an elegance unequalled; but then when you are angry, who dares make speeches so bitter and so cruel?”

  Dr. J. —— Madam, I am always sorry when I make bitter speeches, and I never do it but when I am insufferably vexed. Mrs. T. —— Yes, sir; but you suffer things to vex you, that nobody else would vex at. I am sure I have had my share of scolding from you I

  Dr. J. —— It is true, you have; but you have borne it like an angel, and you have been the better for it.

  Mrs. T. —— That I believe, sir: for I have received more instruction from you than from any man, or any book; and the vanity that you should think me worth instruction, always overcame the vanity of being found fault with. And you had the scolding and I the improvement.

  F. B. —— And I am sure both make for the honour of both.

  Dr. J. —— I think so too. But MM. Thrale is a sweet creature, and never angry; she has a temper the most delightful of any woman I ever knew.

  Mrs. T. —— This I can tell you, sir, and without any flattery —— I not only bear your reproofs when present, but in almost everything I do in your absence, I ask myself whether you would like it, and what you would say to it. Yet I believe there is nobody you dispute with oftener than me.

  F. B. —— But you two are so well established w
ith one another, that you can bear a rebuff that would kill a stranger.

  Dr. J. —— Yes; but we disputed the same before we were so well established with one another.

  Mrs. T. —— Oh, sometimes I think I shall die no other death than hearing the bitter things he says to others. What he says to myself I can bear, because I know how sincerely he is my friend, and that he means to mend me; but to others it is cruel.

  Dr. J. —— Why, madam, you often provoke me to say severe things, by unreasonable commendation. If you would not call for my praise, I would not give you my censure; but it constantly moves my indignation to be applied to, to speak well of a thing which I think contemptible.

  F. B. —— Well, this I know, whoever I may hear complain of Dr. Johnson’s severity, I shall always vouch for his kindness, as far as regards myself, and his indulgence.

  Mrs. T. —— Ay, but I hope he will trim you yet, too!

  Dr. J. —— I hope not: I should be very sorry to say anything that should vex my dear little Burney.

  F. B. —— If you did, sir, it would vex me more than you can imagine. I should sink in a minute.

  Mrs. T. —— I remember, sir, when we were travelling in Wales, how you called me to account for my civility to the people; “Madam,” you said, “let me have no more of this idle commendation of nothing. Why is it, that whatever you see, and whoever you see, you are to be so indiscriminately lavish of praise?” “Why, I”ll tell you, sir,” said I, “when I am with you, and Mr. Thrale, and Queeny, I am obliged to be civil for four!”

  There was a cutter for you! But this I must say, for the honour of both —— Mrs. Thrale speaks to Dr. Johnson with as much sincerity (though with greater softness), as he does to her.

  Place: Streatham, September 26. ——

  I have, from want of time, neglected my journal so long, that I cannot now pretend to go on methodically, and be particular as to dates.

  Messrs. Stephen and Rose Fuller stayed very late on Monday; the former talking very rationally upon various subjects, and the latter boring us with his systems and “those sort of things.” Yet he is something of a favourite, “in that sort of way,” at this house, because of his invincible good humour, and Mrs. Thrale says she would not change him as a neighbour for a much wiser man. Dr. Johnson says he would make a very good Mr. Smith: “Let him but,” he adds, “pass a month or two in Holborn, and I would desire no better.”

  The other evening the conversation fell upon Romney, the painter, who has lately got into great business, and who was first recommended and patronized by Mr. Cumberland. “See, madam,” said Dr. Johnson, laughing, “what it is to have the favour of a literary man! I think I have had no hero a great while; Dr. Goldsmith was my last; but I have had none since his time till my little Burney came!”

  “Ay, sir,” said Mrs. Thrale, “Miss Burney is the heroine now; is it not really true, sir?”

  I o be sure it is, my dear!” answered he, with a gravity that made not only me, but Mr. Thrale laugh heartily.

  Another time, Mr. Thrale said he had seen Dr. Jebb, “and he told me he was afraid Miss Burney would have gone into a consumption,” said he; “but I informed him how well you are, and he committed you to my care; so I shall insist now upon being sole judge of what wine you drink.”

  (N.B. He had often disputed this point.)

  Dr. J. —— Why, did Dr. Jebb forbid her wine?

  F. B. —— Yes, sir.

  Dr. J. —— Well, he was in the right; he knows how apt wits are to transgress that way. He was certainly right! nally. But the present chief sport with Mrs. Thrale is disposing of me in the holy state of matrimony, and she offers me whoever comes to the house. This was begun by Mrs. Montagu, who, it seems, proposed a match for me in my absence, with Sir Joshua Reynolds! —— no less a man, I assure you! When I was dressing for dinner, Mrs. Thrale told me that Mr. Crutchley was expected.

  “Who’s he?” quoth I.

  “A young man of very large fortune, who was a ward of Mr. Thrale. Queeny, what do you say of him for Miss Burney?”

  “Him?” cried she; “no, indeed; what has Miss Burney done to have him?

  “Nay, believe me, a man of his fortune may offer himself anywhere. However, I won’t recommend him.

  “Why then, ma”am,” cried I, with dignity, “I reject him!”

  This Mr. Crutchley stayed till after breakfast the next morning. I can’t tell you anything of him, because I neither like nor dislike him.

  Mr. Crutchley was scarce gone, ere Mr. Smith arrived. Mr. Smith is a second cousin of Mr. Thrale, and a modest pretty sort of young man.

  He stayed till Friday morning. When he was gone,

  “What say you to him, Miss Burney?” cried Mrs. Thrale —— I am sure I offer you variety.

  “Why, I like him better than Mr. Crutchley, but I don’t think I shall pine for either of them.

  “Dr. Johnson,” said Mrs. Thrale, “don’t you think Jerry Crutchley very much improved?”

  Dr. J. —— Yes, madam, I think he is. Mrs. T. —— Shall he have Miss Burney?

  Dr. J. —— Why, I think not; at least I must know more of him; I must inquire into his connections, his recreations, his employments, and his character, from his intimates, before I trust Miss Burney with him. And he must come down very handsomely with a settlement. I will not have him left to his generosity; for as he will marry her for her wit, and she him for his fortune, he ought to bid well; and let him come down with what he will, his price will never be equal to her worth.

  Mrs. T. —— She says she likes Mr. Smith better.

  Dr. J. —— Yes, but I won’t have her like Mr. Smith without the money, better than Mr Crutchley with it. Besides, if she has Crutchley, he will use her well, to vindicate his choice. The world, madam, has a reasonable claim upon all mankind to account for their conduct; therefore, if with his great wealth he marries a woman who has but little, he will be more attentive to display her merit than if she was equally rich, —— in order to show that the woman he has chosen de- serves from the world all the respect and admiration it can bestow, or that else she would not have been his choice.

  Mrs. T. —— I believe young Smith is the better man.

  F. B. —— Well, I won’t be rash in thinking of either; I will take some time for consideration before I fix.

  Dr. J. —— Why, I don’t hold it to be delicate to offer marriage to ladies, even in jest, nor do I approve such sort of jocularity; yet for once I must break through the rules of decorum, and propose a match myself for Miss Burney. I therefore nominate Sir J —— L —— .

  Mrs. T. —— I”ll give you my word, sir, you are not the first to say that, for my master, the other morning, when we were alone, said, “What would I give that Sir J —— L —— was married to Miss Burney; it might restore him to our family.” So spoke his uncle and guardian.

  F. B. —— He, he! Ha, ha! He, he! Ha, ha!

  Dr. J. —— That was elegantly said of my master, and nobly said, and not in the vulgar way we have been saying it. And where, madam, will you find another man in trade, who will make such a speech —— who will be capable of making such a speech ? Well, I am glad my master takes so to Miss Burney; I would have everybody take to Miss Burney, so as they allow me to take to her most! Yet I don’t know whether Sir J —— L —— should have her, neither. I should be afraid for her; I don’t think I would hand her to him.

  F. B. —— Why, now, what a fine match is here broken off!

  Some time after, when we were in the library, he asked me very gravely if I loved reading?

  “Yes,” quoth I,

  Why do you doubt it, sir?” cried Mrs. Thrale.

  “Because,” answered he, “I never see her with a book in her hand. I have taken notice that she never has been reading whenever I have come into the room.”, “Sir,” quoth I courageously, “I am always afraid of being caught reading, lest I should pass for being studious or affected, and therefore instead of making a display of books, I
always try to hide them, as is the case at this very time, for I have now your Life of Waller under my gloves behind me. However, since I am piqued to it, I”ll boldly produce my voucher.”

  And so saying, I put the book on the table, and opened it with a flourishing air. And then the laugh was on my side, for he could not help making a droll face; and if he had known Kitty Cooke, I would have called out, “There I had you, my lad!”

  “And now,” quoth Mrs. Thrale, “you must be more careful than ever of not being thought bookish, for now you are known for a wit and a bel esprit, you will be watched, and if you are not upon your guard, all the misses will rise up against you.”

  Dr. J. —— Nay, nay, now it is too late. You may read as much as you will now, for you are in for it, —— you are dipped over head and ears in the Castalian stream, and so I hope you will be invulnerable.

  Another time, when we were talking of the licentiousness of the newspapers, Dr. Johnson said,

  “I wonder they have never yet had a touch at little Burney.”

  “Oh, Heaven forbid!” cried I: “I am sure if they did, I believe I should try the depth of Mr. Thrale’s spring-pond.”

  “No, no, my dear, no,” cried he kindly, “you must resolve not to mind them; you must set yourself against them, and not let any such nonsense affect you.”

  “There is nobody,” said Mrs. Thrale, “tempers the satirist with so much meekness as Miss Burney.”

  Satirist, indeed! is it not a satire upon words, to call me so?

  “I hope to Heaven I shall never be tried,” cried l, “for I am sure I should never bear it. Of my book they may say what they will and welcome, but if they touch at me —— I shall be — —”

  “Nay,” said Mrs. Thrale, “if you are not afraid for the book, I am sure they can say no harm of the author.”

  “Never let them know,” said Dr. Johnson, “which way you shall most mind them, and then they will stick to the book; but you must never acknowledge how tender you are for the author.”