Though I think that Mrs. More’s[3] very great notoriety was more the
work of circumstances, and the popular turn of her mind, than owing
to a strong original genius, I am far from thinking her an _ordinary_
woman. She must have had great energy of character, and a spritely,
versatile mind, which did not originate much, but which readily caught
the spirit of the day and reflected all the phases of opinion in the
pious and well-disposed portion of society in a clear and lively manner.
SARA COLERIDGE: _Letter to Miss E. Treveren_, 1834, in the former’s
‘Memoir and Letters,’ by her daughter. New York: Harper & Bros., 1874.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Hannah More’s earnings.]
Mrs. More and her sisters had accumulated by their industry handsome
competencies; by her pen alone she had realized £30,000.... Much of her
property was bequeathed to public institutions.
HENRY THOMPSON: ‘Life of Hannah More.’
FOOTNOTES:
[1] David Garrick used to call her “Nine,” and “Your Nineship,”
deriving the title from the Nine Muses.
[2] It is not stated which of the sisters wrote the letter from which
this extract is taken; Hannah was too ill to attend on the opening
night of ‘Fatal Falsehood.’
[3] In later life she was always called _Mrs._ More.
FRANCES BURNEY (MME. D’ARBLAY).
1752-1840.
FRANCES BURNEY (MME. D’ARBLAY).
Frances Burney was born at Lynn Regis, Norfolk. She was the daughter of
Dr. Charles Burney, a well-known professor of music, and the admiring
friend of Samuel Johnson. Her early associations are sufficiently
described in Macaulay’s lively essay, from which we have freely drawn.
In 1778, at twenty-six, she published her first novel, EVELINA, which
took the town by storm. Four years later it was followed by CECILIA.
In 1786 Frances was appointed Second Keeper of the Robes to Queen
Charlotte. She resigned the position in 1791. In 1793 she married M.
D’Arblay, a French refugee, an officer of noble family.
“The sisters of Shakespeare’s Ophelia, Otway’s Belvidera, Richardson’s
Pamela,” says M. Taine, “constitute a race by themselves, soft
and fair, with blue eyes, lily whiteness, blushing, of timid
delicacy, serious sweetness, framed to yield, bend, cling.” This
French generalization touching Englishwomen might have been drawn
from Fanny Burney. She had all the “sweetness, devotion, patience,
inextinguishable affection,” on which the brilliant Frenchman rings
his changes. Her gift of humor, of a keen mind, seems to have been
a thing apart, and not in the least to have affected her relations
with those immediately around her; she saw them always through a veil
of affection and reverence. Her father, whom Macaulay so censures for
his carelessness, to her is ever “my dearest father,” “gay, facile
and sweet”; she bows in spirit before plain, dull King George and his
“sweet queen”; is tremblingly anxious to please the princesses; finds
old Mrs. Delany a saint, an angel; cannot bring herself to refuse the
overwhelming favor of a court position which she does not want. Yet
this woman, who, as acute Mrs. Thrale phrased it, “loved the world
reverentially,” was as ready as the most unconventional of beings to
lose that world for love. She married D’Arblay in meek defiance of her
father’s wish (though indeed Dr. Burney was unresentful); in defiance
of public opinion--and it is difficult to realize the state of English
opinion concerning Frenchmen at that date; and on a pecuniary basis
which makes one smile--her pension of £100 per annum from the queen.
M. D’Arblay could not present himself with her at Windsor. She was
ecstatically joyful once because the king vouchsafed him recognition on
the terrace. Little touches like this throughout the diary show us that
she never ceased to value dross, but none the less, she was willing
instantly to give it up for gold.
The record of the Arcadian life and happiness of these young people of
forty-odd is delightful reading. How exquisite is D’Arblay’s romantic
reply to the offer of a commission in the French army, that he could
only accept it on condition that he should never be required to bear
arms against the countrymen of his wife! Conceive the reception of this
communication by Napoleon Bonaparte!
In 1802 the D’Arblays went, with their little son, to Paris. One would
like the romance to end with “they lived happy ever after.” Alas, it
is reality after all, not romance; and we must read Frances’s deeply
touching account of the death of D’Arblay at Paris in 1812. She
survived him twenty-eight years; survived, indeed, their son, her “dear
Alex,” who died in 1832. The mother lived on lonely in London till 1840.
She published after her marriage the following works:
_Brief Reflections Relative to the French Emigrant Clergy_, 1793.
_Edwin and Elgitha_, a tragedy, 1795.
_Camilla_, a novel, published by subscription in 1796, from which she
obtained 3,000 guineas.
_The Wanderer_, a tale, 1814.
_Memoir of Dr. Burney_, 1832.
The DIARY AND LETTERS, which would embalm her memory even if EVELINA,
CECILIA and _Camilla_ were lost, was published after her death, in
seven volumes. The somewhat unmerciful bulk of this work has lately
been judiciously reduced by Sarah Chauncey Woolsey in an edition
published by Messrs. Roberts Brothers.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Her childhood.]
At Lynn, in June, 1752, Frances Burney was born. Nothing in her
childhood indicated that she would, while still a young woman, have
secured for herself an honorable and permanent place among English
writers. She was shy and silent. Her brothers and sisters called her
a dunce, and not altogether without some show of reason; for at eight
years old she did not know her letters.
[Sidenote: Education.]
... The progress of the mind of Frances Burney, from her ninth to her
twenty-fifth year, well deserves to be recorded. When her education
had proceeded no further than the horn-book, she lost her mother, and
thenceforward she educated herself. Her father appears to have been
as bad a father as a very honest, affectionate and sweet-tempered man
can well be. He loved his daughter dearly, but it never seems to have
occurred to him that a parent has other duties to perform to children
than that of fondling them. It would indeed have been impossible
for him to superintend their education himself. His professional
engagements occupied him all day.... Two of his daughters he sent to
a seminary at Paris; but he imagined that Frances would run some risk
of being perverted from the Protestant faith if she were educated in a
Catholic country, and he therefore kept her at home. No governess, no
teacher of any art or of any languages was provided for her. But one of
her sisters showed her how to write, and before she was fourteen she
began to find pleasure in reading.
[Sidenote: No novel reader.]
It was not, however, by reading that her intellect was formed. Indeed,
when her best novels were produced, her knowledge of books was very
small. It is particularly deserving of observation, that she appears
to have been by no means a novel reader. Her father’s library was
large, ... but in the whole collection there was only a single novel,
Fielding’s ‘Amelia.’
[Sidenote: Her peculiar opportunities.]
Dr. Burney’s attainments, the suavity of his temper, and the gentle
simplicity of his manners, had obtained for him ready admission to
the first literary circles.... It would be tedious to recount the
names of all the men of letters and artists whom Frances Burney had an
opportunity of seeing and hearing. This was not all. The distinction
which Dr. Burney had acquired as a musician, and as the historian of
music, attracted to his house the most eminent musical performers of
that age. It was thus in his power to give, with scarcely any expense,
concerts equal to those of the aristocracy. On such occasions the quiet
street in which he lived was blocked up by coroneted chariots, and his
little drawing-room was crowded with peers, peeresses, ministers, and
ambassadors.
With the literary and fashionable society which occasionally met under
Dr. Burney’s roof, Frances can scarcely be said to have mingled. She
was not a musician, and could therefore bear no part in the concerts.
She was shy almost to awkwardness, and scarcely ever joined in the
conversation. The slightest remark from a stranger disconcerted her;
and even the old friends of her father who tried to draw her out could
seldom extract more than a Yes or a No. Her figure was small, her face
not distinguished by beauty. She was therefore suffered to withdraw
quietly to the background, and, unobserved herself, to observe all that
passed.... Thus, while still a girl, she had laid up such a store of
materials for fiction as few of those who mix much in the world are
able to accumulate during a long life. She had watched and listened to
people of every class, from princes and great officers of state down
to artists living in garrets, and poets familiar with subterranean
cook-shops. Hundreds of remarkable persons had passed in review before
her, English, French, German, Italian, lords and fiddlers, deans of
cathedrals, and managers of theatres.
[Sidenote: ‘Evelina.’]
The impulse which urged Frances to write became irresistible; and the
result was the history of Evelina. Then came, naturally enough, a wish,
mingled with many fears, to appear before the public.... She had not
money to bear the expense of printing. It was therefore necessary that
some book-seller should be induced to take the risk.
Dodsley refused even to look at the manuscript unless he were trusted
with the name of the author. A publisher in Fleet Street, named
Lowndes, was more complaisant. Some correspondence took place between
this person and Miss Burney, who took the name of Grafton, and
desired that the letters addressed to her might be left at the Orange
Coffee-house. But, before the bargain was finally struck, Frances
thought it her duty to obtain her father’s consent. She told him that
she had written a book, that she wished to have his permission to
publish it anonymously, but that she hoped that he would not insist
upon seeing it.... He only stared, burst out a-laughing, kissed her,
gave her leave to do as she liked, and never even asked the name of her
work. The contract with Lowndes was speedily concluded. Twenty pounds
were given for the copyright, and were accepted by Fanny with delight.
LORD MACAULAY: ‘Essay on Mme. D’Arblay,’ _Edinburgh Review_, January,
1843. ‘Critical and Historical Essays.’ New York: Albert Mason, 1875.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Its publication.]
This year [1778] was ushered in by a grand and most important event!
At the latter end of January, the literary world was favored with the
first publication of the ingenious, learned, and most profound Fanny
Burney!... This admirable authoress has named her most elaborate
performance, ‘Evelina; or, A Young Lady’s Entrance into the World.’
Perhaps this may seem a rather bold attempt and title for a female
whose knowledge of the world is very confined, and whose inclinations,
as well as situation, incline her to a private and domestic life. All
I can urge is, that I have only presumed to trace the accidents and
adventures to which a “young woman” is liable; I have not pretended
to show the world what it actually _is_, but what it _appears_ to a
girl of seventeen: and so far as that, surely, any girl who is past
seventeen may safely do?... My Aunt Anne and Miss Humphries being
settled at this time at Brompton, I was going thither with Susan [her
sister] to tea, when Charlotte [another sister] acquainted me that
they were then employed in reading ‘Evelina’ to the invalid, my cousin
Richard. This intelligence gave me the utmost uneasiness--I foresaw a
thousand dangers of a discovery--I dreaded the indiscreet warmth of
all my confidants. In truth, I was quite sick with apprehension, and
was too uncomfortable to go to Brompton, and Susan carried my excuses.
Upon her return, I was somewhat tranquillized, for she assured me that
there was not the smallest suspicion of the author, and that they had
concluded it to be the work of a _man_!
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Mrs. Thrale’s approval.]
Mrs. Thrale said she had only to complain it was too short. She
recommended it to my mother to read!--how droll!--and she told her she
would be much entertained with it, for there was a great deal of human
life in it, and of the manners of the present times, and added that it
was written “by somebody who knows the top and the bottom, the highest
and the lowest of mankind.” She has even lent her set to my mother, who
brought it home with her!
FRANCES BURNEY: ‘Diary and Letters,’ revised and edited by Sarah
Chauncey Woolsey. Boston: Roberts Bros., 1880.
* * * * *
Madame D’Arblay said she was wild with joy at this decisive evidence of
her literary success [Mrs. Thrale’s approval], and that she could only
give vent to her rapture by dancing and skipping round a mulberry tree
in the garden.
SIR WALTER SCOTT: _Diary_, November, 1826, in ‘Memoirs,’ by J. G.
Lockhart. Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1871.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Frances experiments on the publisher.]
We introduced ourselves by buying the book, for which I had a
commission from Mrs. G----. Fortunately Mr. Lowndes himself was in the
shop; as we found by his air of consequence and authority, as well as
his age; for I never saw him before.
The moment he had given my mother the book, she asked if he could tell
her who wrote it. “No,” he answered; “I don’t know myself.” “Pho, pho,”
said she; “you mayn’t choose to tell, but you must know.” “I don’t,
indeed, ma’am,” answered he; “I have no honor in keeping the secret,
for I have never been trusted. All I know of the matter is, that it is
a gentleman of the other end of the town.” My mother made a thousand
other inquiries, to which his answers were to the following effect:
that for a great while, he did not know if it was a man or a woman; but
now, he knew that much, and that he was a master of his subject, and
well versed in the manners of the times.... I grinned irresistibly, and
was obliged to look out at the shop-door till we came away.
[While ill and absent at Chesington], I received from Charlotte a
letter, the most interesting that could be written to me, for it
acquainted me that my dear father was at length reading my book, which
has now been published six months. How this has come to pass, I am yet
in the dark; but, it seems, ... he desired Charlotte to bring him the
_Monthly Review_; she contrived to look over his shoulder as he opened
it, which he did at the account of ‘Evelina.’ He read it with great
earnestness, then put it down; and presently after snatched it up, and
read it again. Doubtless his paternal heart felt some agitation for his
girl in reading a review of her publication! _how_ he got at the name I
cannot imagine.
[Sidenote: Dr. Burney’s pleasure.]
Soon after, he turned to Charlotte, ... put his finger on the word
‘Evelina,’ and saying, _she knew what it was_, bade her write down the
name, and send the man to Lowndes’, as if for himself. When William
returned, he took the book from him, and the moment he was gone,
opened the first volume--and opened it upon the _ode_! [dedicating the
book to himself]. How great must have been his astonishment at seeing
himself so addressed! He looked all amazement, read a line or two with
great eagerness, and then, stopping short, he seemed quite affected,
and the tears started into his eyes: dear soul! I am sure they did into
mine.
* * * * *
My father, when he took the books back to Streatham, actually
acquainted Mrs. Thrale with my secret. He took an opportunity, when
they were alone together, of saying that, upon her recommendation, he
had himself, as well as my mother, been reading ‘Evelina.’
“Well!” cried she, “and is it not a very pretty book? and a very
clever book? and a very comical book?” “Why,” answered he, “’tis well
enough; but I have something to tell you about it.” “Well? what?” cried
she; “has Mrs. Cholmondely found out the author?” “No,” returned he,
“not that I know of; but I believe _I_ have, though but very lately.”
“Well, pray let’s hear!” cried she, eagerly; “I want to know him of all
things.”
How my father must laugh at the _him_! He then, however, undeceived her
in regard to that particular, by telling her it was “_our Fanny_!”
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Dr. Johnson’s comment.]
Mrs. Thrale ... at last ... mentioned ‘Evelina.’ [During F. B.’s first
visit to Streatham]. “Yesterday at supper,” said she, “we talked it all
over, and discussed all your characters; but Dr. Johnson’s favorite is
Mr. Smith. He declares the fine gentleman _manqué_ was never better
drawn, and he acted him all the evening, saying ‘he was all for the
ladies!’ He repeated whole scenes by heart. O, you can’t imagine how
much he is pleased with the book; he ‘could not get rid of the rogue,’
he told me.”
[Sidenote: Reynolds’ curiosity.]
Sir Joshua, who began it one day when he was too much engaged to go on
with it, was so much caught, that he could think of nothing else, and
was quite absent all the day, not knowing a word that was said to him;
and, when he took it up again, found himself so much interested in it,
that he sat up all night to finish it! Sir Joshua, it seems, vows he
would give fifty pounds to know the author!
FRANCES BURNEY: ‘Diary and Letters.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Frances meets Sheridan.]
And now I must tell you a little conversation which I did not hear
myself till I came home; it was between Mr. Sheridan and my father.
“Dr. Burney,” cries the former, “have you no older daughters? Can this
possibly be the authoress of ‘Evelina’?” And then he said abundance of
fine things, and begged my father to introduce him to me.
“Why, it will be a very formidable thing to her,” answered he, “to be
introduced to you.”
“Well, then, by and by,” returned he.
Some time after this, my eyes happening to meet his, he waived the
ceremony of introduction, and in a low voice said: “I have been telling
Dr. Burney that I have long expected to see Miss Burney a lady of the
gravest appearance, with the quickest parts.” I was never much more
astonished than at this unexpected address, as among all my numerous
puffers the name of Sheridan has never reached me, and I did really
imagine he had never deigned to look at my trash. Of course I could
make no verbal answer, and he proceeded then to speak of ‘Evelina’ in
terms of the highest praise; but I was in such a ferment from surprise
(not to say pleasure), that I have no recollection of his expressions.
I only remember telling him that I was much amazed he had spared time
to read it, and that he repeatedly called it a most surprising book.
FRANCES BURNEY: ‘_Letter to Susan Burney_,’ in ‘Diary and Letters.’
* * * * *
I often think when I am counting my laurels, what a pity it would have
been had I popped off in my last illness, without knowing what a person
of consequence I was!--and I sometimes think that, were I now to have a
relapse, I never could go off with so much _éclat_!... I have already,
I fear, reached the pinnacle of my abilities, and therefore to stand
still will be my best policy.
[Sidenote: ‘Cecilia.’]
My work is too long in all conscience for the hurry of my people to
have it produced. I have a thousand million of fears for it. The mere
copying, without revising and correcting, would take at least ten
weeks, for I cannot do more than a volume in a fortnight unless I
scrawl short hand and rough hand as badly as the original. Yet my dear
father thinks it will be published in a month!... I have copied one
volume and a quarter--no more! Oh, I am sick to think of it! Yet not
a little reviving is my father’s very high approbation of the first
volume, which is all he has seen. Would you ever believe, bigoted as he
was to ‘Evelina,’ that he now says he thinks this a superior design
and superior execution?... One thing frets me a good deal, which is,
that my book affair has got wind, and seems almost everywhere known,
notwithstanding my eagerness and caution to have it kept snug to the
last.... The book, in short, to my great consternation, I find is
talked of and expected all the town over.
FRANCES BURNEY: ‘Diary and Letters.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Its success.]
What Miss Burney received for the copyright is not mentioned in the
‘Diary’, but we have observed several expressions from which we infer
that the sum was considerable. We have been told that the publishers
gave her two thousand pounds, and we have no doubt that they might have
given a still larger sum without being losers.
LORD MACAULAY: ‘Essay on Mme. D’Arblay.’
* * * * *
Oh! it beats every other book, even your own other volumes, for
‘Evelina’ was a baby to it. Such a novel! Indeed, I am seriously and
sensibly touched by it, and am proud of her friendship who so knows the
human heart.
MRS. THRALE: _Letter to Fanny Burney_, in the latter’s ‘Diary and
Letters.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Burke’s criticism.]
He very emphatically congratulated me upon its most universal success;
said, “he was now too late to speak of it, since he could only echo the
voice of the whole nation.”... He then told me that, notwithstanding
his admiration, he was the man who had dared to find some faults with
so favorite and fashionable a work. I entreated him to tell me what
they were, and assured him nothing would make me so happy as to correct
them under his direction.... He wished the conclusion either more happy
or more miserable; “for in a work of imagination,” said he, “there is
no medium.” I was not easy enough to answer him, or I have much, though
perhaps not good for much, to say in defense of following life and
nature as much in the conclusion as in the progress of a tale; and when
is life and nature completely happy or miserable?
FRANCES BURNEY: _Letter to Susan Burney_, in ‘Diary and Letters.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Accounts of Frances at this period.]
Next to the balloon [on exhibition in the Pantheon] Miss Burney is
the object of public curiosity; I had the pleasure of meeting her
yesterday. She is a very unaffected, modest, sweet, and pleasing
young lady: but you, now I think of it, are a Goth, and have not read
‘Cecilia.’ Read, read it, for shame!
ANNA L. BARBAULD: _Letter to her brother_, Jan., 1784, in ‘Memoir,’ by
Grace A. Ellis (Oliver). Boston: J. R. Osgood & Co., 1874.
* * * * *
I am sure you are acquainted with the novel entitled ‘Cecilia,’
much admired for its good sense, variety of character, delicacy of
sentiment, etc., etc. There is nothing good, amiable, and agreeable
mentioned in the book, that is not possessed by the author of it, Miss
Burney.
I have now been acquainted with her three years: her extreme diffidence
of herself, notwithstanding her great genius and the applause she has
met with, adds lustre to all her excellences, and all improve on
acquaintance.
MRS. DELANY: _Letter to Mrs. F. Hamilton_, 1786, in, the former’s
‘Autobiography and Correspondence,’ revised and edited by Sarah
Chauncey Woolsey. Boston: Roberts Bros., 1879.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: She meets King George III.]