Fanny Burney's Diary and Letters

Monday was the day for our great party; and the Doctor came home, at Mrs Thrale’s request, to meet them.
The party consisted of Mr. C–, who was formerly a timber-merchant, but having amassed a fortune of one million of
pounds, he has left off business.  He is a good-natured busy sort of man.

Mrs. C–, his lady, a sort of Mrs. Nobody.

Mr. N–, another rich business leaver-off.

Mrs. N–, his lady; a pretty sort of woman, who was formerly a pupil of Dr. Hawkesworth.  I had a great deal of talk with her about him, and about my favourite miss Kinnaird, whom she knew very well.

Mr. George and Mr. Thomas N–, her sons-in-law.

Mr. R—, of whom I know nothing but that he married into MrThrale’s family.

Lady Ladd; I ought to have begun with her.  I beg her ladyship a thousand pardons–though if she knew My offence, I am sure I should not obtain one.  She is own sister to Mr. Thrale.  She is a tall and stout woman, has an air of mingled dignity and haughtiness, both of which wear off in conversation. She dresses very youthful and gaily, and attends to her person with no little complacency.  She appears to me uncultivated in knowledge, though an adept in the manners of the world, And all that.  She chooses to be much more lively than her brother; but liveliness sits as awkwardly upon her as her pink ribbons.  In talking her over with Mrs Thrale who has a very proper regard for her, but who, I am sure, cannot be blind to her faults, she gave me another proof to those I have already of the uncontrolled freedom of speech which Dr. Johnson exercised to everybody, and which everybody receives quietly from him.  Lady Ladd has been very handsome, but is now, I think, quite ugly–at least she has the sort of face I like not.  She was a little while ago dressed in so showy a manner as to attract the doctor’s notice, and when he had looked at her some time, he broke out aloud into this quotation:

“With patches, paint, and jewels on,
Sure Phillis is not twenty-one
But if at night you Phillis see,
The dame at least is forty-three!”

I don’t recollect the verses exactly, but such was their purport.

“However,” said Mrs. Thrale, “Lady Ladd took it very good-naturedly, and only said, ‘I know enough of that forty-three–I don’t desire to hear any more of it.’”

Miss Moss, a pretty girl, who played and sung, to the great fatigue of Mrs. Thrale; Mr. Rose Fuller, Mr. Embry, Mr. Seward, Dr. Johnson, the three Thrales, and myself, close the party.

In the evening the company divided pretty much into parties, and almost everybody walked upon the gravel-walk before the windows. I was going to have joined some of them, when Dr. Johnson stopped me, and asked how I did.

“I was afraid, sir,” cried I “you did not intend to know me again, for you have not spoken to me before since your return from town.”

“MY dear,” cried he, taking both my hands, “I was not of You, I am so near sighted, and I apprehended making some Mistake.”  Then drawing me very unexpectedly towards him, he actually kissed me!

To be sure, I was a little surprised, having no idea of such facetiousness from him, However, I was glad nobody was in the room but MrsThrale, who stood close to us, and Mr. Embry, who was lounging on a sofa at the furthest end of the room.  Mrs. Thrale laughed heartily, and said she hoped I was contented with his amends for not knowing me sooner.

A little after she said she would go and walk with the rest, if she did not fear for my reputation in being left with the doctor”

“However, as Mr. Embry is yonder, I think he’ll take some care of you,” she added.

“Ay, madam,” said the doctor, “we shall do very well; but I assure you I sha’n't part with Miss Burney!”

And he held me by both hands; and when MrsThrale went, he drew me a chair himself facing the window, close to his own; and thus t`ete-`a-t`ete we continued almost all the evening.  I say t`ete-`a-t`ete, because Mr, Embry kept at an humble distance, and offered us no interruption And though Mr, Seward soon after came in, he also seated himself at a distant corner, not presuming, he said, to break in upon us!  Everybody, he added, gave way to the doctor.

Our conversation chiefly was upon the Hebrides, for he always talks to me of Scotland, out of sport; and he wished I had been of that tour–quite gravely, I assure you!

The P– family came in to tea.  When they were gone Mrs. Thrale complained that she was quite worn out with that tiresome silly woman Mrs. P–, who had talked of her family and affairs till she was sick to death of hearing her.

“Madam,” said Dr. Johnson, “why do you blame the woman for the only sensible thing she could do–talking of her family and her affairs?  For how should a woman who is as empty as a drum, talk upon any other subject?  If you speak to her of the sun, she does not know it rises in the east;–if you speak to her of the moon, she does not know it changes at the full ;–if you speak to her of the queen, she does not know she is the king’s wife.–how, then, can you blame her for talking of her family and affairs?”

When we were dressed for dinner, and went into the parlour, we had the agreeable surprise of seeing Mr. Seward.  There was also Mr. Lort, who is reckoned one of the most learned men alive, and is also a collector of curiosities, alike in literature and natural history.  His manners are somewhat blunt and odd, and he is altogether out of the common road, without having chosen a better path.

The day was passed most agreeably.  In the evening we had, as usual, a literary conversation.  Mr. Lort produced several curious MSS. of the famous Bristol Chatterton; among others, his will, and divers verses written against Dr. Johnson, as a placeman and pensioner; all of which he read aloud, with a steady voice and unmoved countenance.

I was astonished at him; Mrs. Thrale not much pleased; Mr. Thrale silent and attentive; and Mr. Seward was slily laughing.  Dr. johnson himself listened profoundly and laughed openly.  Indeed, I believe he wishes his abusers no other Thiing than a good dinner, like Pope.

Just as we had got our biscuits and toast-and-water, which make the Streatham supper, and which, indeed, is all there is any chance of eating after our late and great dinners, Mr. Lort suddenly said, “Pray, ma’am, have you heard anything of a novel that runs about a good deal, called ‘Evelina’?”

What a ferment did this question, before such a set, Put me in! I did not know whether he spoke to me, or Mrs. Thrale, and Mrs. Thrale was in the same doubt, and as she owned, felt herself in a little palpitation for me, not knowing what might come next, Between us both, therefore, he had no answer. “It has been recommended to me,” continued he; “but I have no great desire to see it, because it has such a foolish name.  Yet I have heard a great deal of it, too.”

He then repeated “Evelina”–in a very languishing and ridiculous tone.

My heart beat so quick against my stays that I almost panted with extreme agitation, from the dread either of hearing some horrible criticism, or of being betrayed: and I munched my biscuit as if I had not eaten for a fortnight. I believe the whole party were in some little consternation Dr. Johnson began see-sawing; Mr. Thrale awoke; Mr. E – ‘ who I fear has picked up some notion of the affair from being so much in the house, grinned amazingly; and Mr. Seward, biting his nails and flinging himself back in his chair, I am sure had wickedness enough to enjoy the whole scene.

Mrs. Thrale was really a little fluttered, but without looking at me, said, “And pray what, Mr. Lort, what have you heard of it?”

“Why they say,” answered he, “that it’s an account of a young lady’s first entrance into company, and of the scrapes she gets into; and they say there’s a great deal of character in it, but I have not cared to look in it, because the name is so foolish- -’Evelina’!”

“Why foolish, sir?” cried Dr. Johnson.  “Where’s the folly of it?”

“Why, I won’t say much for the name myself,” said Mrs. Thrale, “to those who don’t know the reason of it, which I found out, but which nobody else seems to know.”  She then explained the name from Evelyn, according to my own meaning.

“Well,” said Dr. Johnson, ” if that was the reason, it is a very good one.”

“Why, have you had the book here?” cried Mr. Lort, staring.

“Ay, indeed, have we,” said Mrs. Thrale; “I read it When I was last confined, and I laughed over it, and I cried over it!”

“O ho!” said Mr. Lort, “this is another thing!  If you have had it here, I will certainly read it.”

“Had it?  ay,” returned she; “and Dr. Johnson, who would not look at it at first, was so caught by it when I put it in the coach with him, that he has sung its praises ever since,–and he says Richardson would have been proud to have written it.”

“O ho! this is a good hearing,”  cried Mr. Lort; “if Dr. Johnson can read it, I shall get it with all speed.”

“You need not go far for it,” said Mrs. Thrale, “for it’s now upon yonder table.”

I could sit still no longer; there was something so awkward, so uncommon, so strange in my then situation, that I wished myself a hundred miles off, and indeed, I had almost choked myself with the biscuit, for I could not for my life swallow it: and so I  got up, and, as Mr. Lort wen to the table to look for “Evelina,” I left the room, and was forced to call for water to wash down the biscuit, which literally stuck in my throat.

I heartily wished Mr. Lort at jerusalem. I did not much like going back, but the moment I recovered breath, I resolved  not to make bad worse by staying longer away: but at the door of the room, I met Mrs. Thrale, who, asking me if I would have some water, took me into a back room, and burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

“This is very good sport,” cried she; “the man is as innocent about the matter as a child, and we shall hear what he says about it to-morrow morning at breakfast. I made a sign to Dr.Jonnson and Seward not to tell him.”

she found I was not in a humour to think it such good sport as she did, she grew more serious, and taking my hand kindly said, “May you never, Miss Burney, know any other pain than that of hearing yourself praised! and I am sure that you must often feel.”

When I told her how much I dreaded being discovered, and beggt her not to betray me any further, she again began laughing, and openly declared she should not consult me about the matter.  But she told me that, as soon as I had left the room, when Mr. Lort took up “Evelina,” he exclaimed contemptuously “Why, it’s printed for Lowndes!” and that Dr. Johnson then told him there were things and characters in it more than worthy of Fielding. “Oh ho!” cried Mr. Lort; “what, is it better than Fielding?”

“Harry Fielding,” answered Dr. Johnson, “knew nothing but the shell of life.”

“So you, ma’am,” added the flattering Mrs. Thrale, “have found the kernel.”

Are they all mad? or do they only want to make me so.