Evelina

by Frances Burney

  There was something in the whole of this extraordinary and shocking adventure, really too affecting to be borne; and so entirely had I spent my spirits and exhausted my courage, that, before the Branghtons reached me, I had sunk on the ground, without sense or motion.

  I believe I must have been a very horrid sight to them, on their entrance into the room; for, to all appearance, I seemed to have suffered a violent death, either by my own rashness, or the cruelty of some murderer; as the pistols had fallen close by my side.

  How soon I recovered, I know not, but probably, I was more indebted to the loudness of their cries, than to their assistance; for they all concluded that I was dead, and, for some time, did not make any effort to revive me.

  Scarcely could I recollect where, or, indeed, what I was, ere they poured upon me such a torrent of questions and enquiries, that I was almost stunned with their vociferation. However, as soon and as well as I was able, I endeavoured to satisfy their curiosity, by recounting what had happened as clearly as was in my power. They all looked aghast at the recital, but, not being well enough to enter into any discussions, I begged to have a chair called, and to return instantly home.

  Before I left them, I recommended, with great earnestness, a vigilant observance of their unhappy lodger, and that they would take care to keep from him, if possible, all means of self-destruction.

  M. Du Bois, who seemed extremely concerned at my indisposition, walked by the side of the chair, and saw me safe to my own apartment.

  The rashness and the misery of this ill-fated young man, engross all my thoughts. If, indeed, he is bent upon destroying himself, all efforts to save him will be fruitless. How much do I wish it were in my power to discover the nature of the malady which thus maddens him, and to offer or to procure alleviation to his sufferings! I am sure, my dearest Sir, you will be much concerned for this poor man; and, were you here, I doubt not but you would find some method of awakening him from the error which blinds him, and of pouring the balm of peace and comfort into his afflicted soul!

  Letter Thirteen

  Evelina in continuation

  Holborn, June 13th

  Yesterday all the Branghtons dined here.

  Our conversation was almost wholly concerning the adventure of the day before. Mr Branghton said, that his first thought was instantly to turn his lodger out of doors, ‘Lest,’ continued he, ‘his killing himself in my house, should bring me into any trouble; but then, I was afraid I should never get the money he owes me, whereas, if he dies in my house, I have a right to all he leaves behind him, if he goes off in my debt. Indeed, I would put him in prison, – but what should I get by that? he could not earn any thing there to pay me. So I considered about it some time, and then I determined to ask him, point-blank, for my money out of hand. And so I did, but he told me he’d pay me next week: however, I gave him to understand, that, though I was no Scotchman, yet I did not like to be over-reached any more than he; so then he gave me a ring, which, to my certain knowledge, must be worth ten guineas, and told me he would not part with it for his life, and a good deal more such sort of stuff, but that I might keep it till he could pay me.’

  ‘It is ten to one, Father,’ said young Branghton, ‘if he came fairly by it.’

  ‘Very likely not,’ answered he, ‘but that will make no great difference; for I shall be able to prove my right to it all one.’

  What principles! I could hardly stay in the room.

  ‘I’m determined,’ said the son, ‘I’ll take some opportunity to affront him soon, now I know how poor he is, because of the airs he gave himself to me when he first came.’

  ‘And pray how was that, child?’ said Madame Duval.

  ‘Why you never knew such a fuss in your life as he made, because, one day at dinner, I only happened to say, that I supposed he had never got such a good meal in his life, before he came to England: there he fell in such a passion as you can’t think; but, for my part, I took no notice of it, for to be sure, thinks I, he must needs be a gentleman, or he’d never go to be so angry about it. However, he won’t put his tricks upon me again, in a hurry.’

  ‘Well,’ said Miss Polly, ‘he’s grown quite another creature to what he was, and he doesn’t run away from us, nor hide himself, nor any thing; and he’s as civil as can be, and he’s always in the shop, and he saunters about the stairs, and he looks at every body as comes in.’

  ‘Why you may see what he’s after plain enough,’ said Mr Branghton; ‘he wants to see Miss again.’

  ‘Ha, ha, ha! Lord, how I should laugh,’ said the son, ‘if he should have fell in love with Miss!’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Miss Branghton, ‘Miss is welcome; but, for my part, I should be quite ashamed of such a beggarly conquest.’

  Such was the conversation till tea-time, when the appearance of Mr Smith gave a new turn to the discourse.

  Miss Branghton desired me to remark with what a smart air, he entered the room, and asked me if he had not very much a quality look?

  ‘Come,’ cried he, advancing to us, ‘you ladies must not sit together; wherever I go, I always make it a rule to part the ladies.’

  And then, handing Miss Branghton to the next chair, he seated himself between us.

  ‘Well, now ladies, I think we sit very well. What say you? for my part, I think it was a very good motion.’

  ‘If my Cousin likes it,’ said Miss Branghton, ‘I’m sure I’ve no objection.’

  ‘O,’ cried he, ‘I always study what the ladies like, – that’s my first thought. And, indeed, it is but natural that you should like best to sit by the gentlemen, for what can you find to say to one another?’

  ‘Say?’ cried young Branghton, ‘O, never you think of that, they’ll find enough to say, I’ll be sworn. You know the women are never tired of talking.’

  ‘Come, come, Tom,’ said Mr Smith, ‘don’t be severe upon the ladies; when I’m by, you know I always take their part.’

  Soon after, when Miss Branghton offered me some cake, this man of gallantry said, ‘Well, if I was that lady, I’d never take any thing from a woman.’

  ‘Why not, Sir?’

  ‘Because I should be afraid of being poisoned for being so handsome.’

  ‘Who is severe upon the ladies now?’ said I.

  ‘Why, really, Ma’am, it was a slip of the tongue; I did not intend to say such a thing; but one can’t always be on one’s guard.’

  Soon after, the conversation turning upon public places, young Branghton asked if I had ever been to George’s at Hampstead?

  ‘Indeed I never heard the place mentioned.’

  ‘Did n’t you, Miss?’ cried he, eagerly, ‘why then you’ve a deal of fun to come, I’ll promise you; and, I tell you what, I’ll treat you there some Sunday soon. So now, Bid and Poll, be sure you don’t tell Miss about the chairs, and all that, for I’ve a mind to surprise her; and if I pay, I think I’ve a right to have it my own way.’

  ‘George’s at Hampstead!’ repeated Mr Smith, contemptuously, ‘how came you to think the young Lady would like to go to such a low place as that! But, pray Ma’am, have you ever been to Don Saltero’s at Chelsea?’

  ‘No, Sir.’

  ‘No! – nay, then, I must insist on having the pleasure of conducting you there before long. I assure, you, Ma’am, many genteel people go, or else, I give you my word, I should not recommend it.’

  ‘Pray, Cousin,’ said Mr Branghton, ‘have you been at Sadler’s Wells, yet?’

  ‘No, Sir.’

  ‘No! why then you’ve seen nothing!’

  ‘Pray, Miss,’ said the Son, ‘how do you like the Tower of London.’

  ‘I have never been to it, Sir.’

  ‘Goodness!’ exclaimed he, ‘not seen the Tower! – why may be you ha’ n’t been o’ top of the Monument, neither?’

  ‘No, indeed, I have not.’

  ‘Why then you might as well not have come to London, for aught I see, for you’ve been no where.’

  ‘Pray,
Miss,’ said Polly, ‘have you been all over Paul’s Church, yet?’

  ‘No, Ma’am.’

  ‘Well, but, Ma’am,’ said Mr Smith, ‘how do you like Vauxhall and Marybone?’

  ‘I never saw either, Sir.’

  ‘No – God bless me! – you really surprise me, – why Vauxhall is the first pleasure in life! – I know nothing like it. – Well, Ma’am, you must have been with strange people, indeed, not to have taken you to Vauxhall. Why you have seen nothing of London yet. – However, we must try if we can’t make you amends.’

  In the course of this catechism, many other places were mentioned, of which I have forgotten the names; but the looks of surprise and contempt that my repeated negatives incurred, were very diverting.

  ‘Come,’ said Mr Smith, after tea, ‘as this Lady has been with such a queer set of people, let’s shew her the difference; suppose we go somewhere to-night! – I love to do things with spirit! – Come, Ladies, where shall we go? For my part, I should like Foote’s, – but the Ladies must chuse; I never speak myself.’

  ‘Well, Mr Smith is always in such spirits!’ said Miss Branghton.

  ‘Why yes, Ma’am, yes, thank God, pretty good spirits; – I have not yet the cares of the world upon me, – I am not married, – ha, ha, ha, – you’ll excuse me, Ladies, – but I can’t help laughing! – ’

  No objection being made, to my great relief, we all proceeded to the little theatre in the Haymarket, where I was extremely entertained by the performance of the Minor and the Commissary.

  They all returned hither to supper.

  Letter Fourteen

  Evelina in continuation

  June 15

  Yesterday morning, Madame Duval again sent me to Mr Branghton’s attended by M. Du Bois, to make some party for the evening; because she had had the vapours the preceeding day, from staying at home.

  As I entered the shop, I perceived the unfortunate North Briton, seated in a corner, with a book in his hand. He cast his melancholy eyes up, as we came in, and, I believe, immediately recollected my face, for he started and changed colour. I delivered Madame Duval’s message to Mr Branghton; who told me I should find Polly up stairs, but that the others were gone out.

  Up stairs, therefore, I went; and seated on a window, with Mr Brown at her side, sat Miss Polly. I felt a little awkward at disturbing them, and much more so, at their behaviour afterwards: for, as soon as the common enquiries were over, Mr Brown grew so fond, and so foolish, that I was extremely disgusted. Polly, all the time, only rebuked him with, ‘La now, Mr Brown, do be quiet, can’t you? – you should not behave so before company. – Why now what will Miss think of me?’ –while her looks plainly shewed not merely the pleasure, but the pride which she took in his caresses.

  I did not, by any means, think it necessary to punish myself by witnessing their tenderness, and, therefore, telling them I would see if Miss Branghton were returned home, I soon left them, and again descended into the shop.

  ‘So, Miss, you’ve come again,’ said Mr Branghton, ‘what, I suppose, you’ve a mind to sit a little in the shop, and see how the world goes, hay, Miss?’

  I made no answer; and M. Du Bois instantly brought me a chair.

  The unhappy stranger, who had risen at my entrance, again seated himself; and, though his head leaned towards his book, I could not help observing, that his eyes were most intently and earnestly turned towards me.

  M. Du Bois, as well as his broken English would allow him, endeavoured to entertain us, till the return of Miss Branghton and her brother.

  ‘Lord, how tired I am!’ cried the former, ‘I have not a foot to stand upon.’ And then, without any ceremony, she flung herself into the chair from which I had risen to receive her.

  ‘You tired!’ said the brother, ‘why then what must I be, that have walked twice as far?’ And with equal politeness, he paid the same compliment to M. Du Bois which his sister had done to me.

  Two chairs and three stools compleated the furniture of the shop, and Mr Branghton, who chose to keep his own seat himself, desired M. Du Bois to take another; and then, seeing that I was without any, called out to the stranger, ‘Come, Mr Macartney, lend us your stool.’

  Shocked at their rudeness, I declined the offer, and approaching Miss Branghton, said, ‘If you will be so good as to make room for me on your chair, there will be no occasion to disturb that gentleman.’

  ‘Lord, what signifies that?’ cried the brother, ‘he has had his share of sitting, I’ll be sworn.’

  ‘And if he has not,’ said the sister, ‘he has a chair up stairs; and the shop is our own, I hope.’

  This grossness so much disgusted me, that I took the stool, and carrying it back to Mr Macartney myself, I returned him thanks, as civilly as I could, for his politeness, but said that I had rather stand.

  He looked at me as if unaccustomed to such attention, bowed very respectfully, but neither spoke, nor yet made use of it.

  I soon found that I was an object of derision to all present, except M. Du Bois, and, therefore, I begged Mr Branghton would give me an answer for Madame Duval, as I was in haste to return.

  ‘Well, then, Tom, – Biddy, – where have you a mind to go tonight? your Aunt and Miss want to be abroad and amongst them.’

  ‘Why then, Papa,’ said Miss Branghton, ‘we’ll go to Don Saltero’s. Mr Smith likes that place, so may be he’ll go along with us.’

  ‘No, no,’ said the son, ‘I’m for White-Conduit House, so let’s go there.’

  ‘White-Conduit House, indeed?’ cried his sister, ‘no, Tom, that I won’t.’

  ‘Why then let it alone; nobody wants your company; – we shall do as well without you, I’ll be sworn, and better too.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what Tom, if you don’t hold your tongue, I’ll make you repent it, – that I assure you.’

  Just then, Mr Smith came into the shop, which he seemed to intend passing through; but when he saw me, he stopped and began a most courteous enquiry after my health, protesting that, had he known I was there, he should have come down sooner. ‘But, bless me, Ma’am,’ added he, ‘what is the reason you stand?’ and then he flew to bring me the seat from which I had just parted.

  ‘Mr Smith, you are come in very good time,’ said Mr Branghton, ‘to end a dispute between my son and daughter, about where they shall all go to-night.’

  ‘O fie, Tom, – dispute with a lady!’ cried Mr Smith, ‘Now, as for me, I’m for where you will, provided this young Lady is of the party, – one place is the same as another to me, so that it be but agreeable to the ladies, – I would go any where with you, Ma’am,’ (to me) ‘unless, indeed, it were to church; – ha, ha, ha, – you’ll excuse me, Ma’am, but, really, I never could conquer my fear of a parson; – ha, ha, ha, – really, ladies, I beg your pardon, for being so rude, but I can’t help laughing for my life!’

  ‘I was just saying, Mr Smith,’ said Miss Branghton, ‘that I should like to go to Don Saltero’s; – now pray where should you like to go?’

  ‘Why really, Miss Biddy, you know I always let the ladies decide; I never fix any thing myself; but I should suppose it would be rather hot at the coffee-house, – however, pray, Ladies, settle it among yourselves, – I’m agreeable to whatever you chuse.’

  It was easy for me to discover, that this man, with all his parade of conformity, objects to every thing that is not proposed by himself: but he is so much admired, by this family, for his gentility, that he thinks himself a compleat fine gentleman!

  ‘Come,’ said Mr Branghton, ‘the best way will be to put it to the vote, and then every body will speak their minds. Biddy, call Poll down stairs. We’ll start fair.’

  ‘Lord, Papa,’ said Miss Branghton, ‘why can’t you as well send Tom? – you’re always sending me of the errands.’

  A dispute then ensued, but Miss Branghton was obliged to yield.

  When Mr Brown and Miss Polly made their appearance, the latter uttered many complaints of having been called, saying
she did not want to come, and was very well where she was.

  ‘Now, Ladies, your votes;’ cried Mr Smith, ‘and so, Ma’am,’ (to me) ‘we’ll begin with you. What place shall you like best?’ and then, in a whisper, he added, ‘I assure you, I shall say the same as you do, whether I like it or not.’

  I said, that as I was ignorant what choice was in my power, I must beg to hear their decisions first. This was reluctantly assented to; and then Miss Branghton voted for Saltero’s Coffee house; her sister, for a party to Mother Red Cap’s: the brother, for White-Conduit House; Mr Brown, for Bagnigge Wells; Mr Branghton for Saddler’s Wells; and Mr Smith for Vauxhall.

  ‘Well now, Ma’am,’ said Mr Smith, ‘we have all spoken, and so you must give the casting vote. Come, what will you fix upon?’

  ‘Sir,’ answered I, ‘I was to speak last.’

  ‘Well, so you will,’ said Miss Branghton, ‘for we’ve all spoke first.’

  ‘Pardon me,’ returned I, ‘the voting has not yet been quite general.’

  And I looked towards Mr Macartney, to whom I wished extremely to shew that I was not of the same brutal nature with those by whom he was treated so grossly.

  ‘Why pray,’ said Mr Branghton, ‘who have we left out? would you have the cats and dogs vote?’

  ‘No Sir,’ cried I, with some spirit, ‘I would have that gentleman vote, – if, indeed, he is not superior to joining our party.’

  They all looked at me, as if they doubted whether or not they had heard me right: but, in a few moments, their surprise gave way to a rude burst of laughter.

  Very much displeased, I told M. Du Bois that if he was not ready to go, I would have a coach called for myself.

  O yes, he said, he was always ready to attend me.

  Mr Smith then advancing, attempted to take my hand, and begged me not to leave them till I had settled the evening’s plan.