Of the French correspondents, M. Berquin, the true though self-named
children’s friend, was foremost in bringing letters of strong
recommendation to the Doctor from Paris.
M. Berquin warmly professed that the first inquiry he made upon his
entrance into London, was for the _Hôtel du Grand Newton_; where
he offered up incense to the owner, and to his second daughter, of
so overpowering a perfume, that it would have derogated completely
from the character of verity and simplicity that makes the charm of
his tales for juvenile pupils, had it not appeared, from passages
published in his works after his return to France, that he had really
wrought himself into feeling the enthusiasm that here had appeared
overstrained, unnatural, and almost, at least to the daughter,
burlesque. In an account of him, written at this time to her sister
Susanna, are these words:
“TO MRS. PHILLIPS.
“We have a new man, now, almost always at the house, who has brought
letters to my father from some of his best French correspondents, M.
Berquin; author of the far most interesting lessons of moral conduct
for adolescence or for what Mr. Walpole would call the _betweenity_
time that intervals the boy or girl from the man or woman, that ever
sprang from a vivid imagination, under the strictest guidance of right
and reason. But to all this that is so proper, or rather, so excellent,
M. Berquin joins an exuberance of devotion towards _l’Hôtel du Grand
Newton_, and its present owner, and, above all, that owner’s second
bairne, that seems with difficulty held back from mounting into an
ecstacy really comic. He brought a set of his charming little volumes
with him, and begged my mother to present them to _Mademoiselle
Beurnie_; with compliments upon the occasion too florid for writing
even, my Susan, to you. And though I was in the room the whole time,
quietly scollopping a muslin border, and making entreating signs to
my mother not to betray me, he never once suspected I might be the
demoiselle myself, because—I am much afraid!—he saw nothing about me
to answer to the splendour of his expectations! However, he has since
made the discovery, and had the gallantry to comport himself as if
he had made it—poor man!—without disappointment. Since then I have
begun some acquaintance with him; but his rapture every time I speak
is too great to be excited often! therefore, I am chary of my words.
You would laugh irresistibly to see how _enchanté_ he deems it fit to
appear every time I open my mouth! holding up one hand aloft, as if in
sign to all others present to keep the peace! And yet, save for this
complimentary extravagance, his manners and appearance are the most
simple, candid, and unpretending.”
* * * * *
Dr. Burney himself was seriously of opinion that all the superfluity
of civility here described, was the mere effervescence of a romantic
imagination; not of artifice, or studied adulation.[65]