We have had the honor of being introduced to Edmund Burke-have met our own Franklin, on his dropping in once just after tea, in Dr. Burney's quiet parlor-have frequently seen Hannah More in the suite of Mrs. Garrick-have often heard Mrs. Montagu "flash away" for a whole evening and have made some pleasant additions to our visiting list, in such names as Sheridan, Horace Walpole, Mrs. Siddons, Gibbon, Madame de Genlis, Benjamin West, Nollekens, Soame Jenyns, Dr. Parr, General Paoli, Boswell, Hoole the translator of Tasso, Warren Hastings, Cumberland, Barry the painter, Arthur Young, Murphy, the dramatist-a score of other "nice people," whose names we forgetand, most democratically last, we will add King George III., a very respectable old lady his wife, that profligate and undutiful reprobate the Prince of Wales, and in short the royal family in general. "Where will you meet with such another set?"-is the language of her dear, delightful old friend, Mr. Crisp, written to her from his own hermit retirement at Chesington. "O Fanny, set this down as the happiest period of your life; and when you come to be old and sick, and health and spirits are fled, (for the time may come), then live upon remembrance, and think that you have had your share of the good things of this world, and say, For what I have received, the Lord make me thankful!'' A few words about Miss Burney herself-afterwards Madame d'Arblay -and we shall then proceed to give up a few of our pages to a purpose more entertaining, probably, to the reader than any other we could put them to, by quoting from her own as liberally as we may find it in our power. She was the second daughter of Dr. Burney, the author of "The General History of Music," and was born in the year 1752. Whatever she was destined to become in after-life, she exhibited nothing of the " infant phenomenon" in her childhood, having been remarkable for little else than an extreme shyness and backwardness at learning; for we are told that at eight years of age she did not even know her letters, and her elder brother used to amuse himself by pretending to teach her to read, and presenting the book to her turned upside down, which he declared she never found out. The future author of "Evelina" and "Cecilia," who, while yet a mere girl, was to command the admiration and homage of all the wits of the day, and to be the delight of all that was greatest and highest in the world of letters and of intellect, was designated generally among her mother's friends as "the little dunce." That mother, however, knew her own child rather better, backward and unpromising as she seemed to those who saw only the surface of her bashful and silent manner, and was always content to reply, that "she had no fear about Fanny." Unfortunately, she lost that mother when but nine years old, on which occasion the agony of her grief was such that her governess declared she had never met with a child of such intense and acute feelings. After this time she enjoyed fewer of the ordinary external advantages of education than her sisters, having been brought home from school while her twosisters were sent to a seminary in Paris. Her education "carried itselfon." By the age of ten years she could read, and she taught herself to write with the occasional assistance of her eldest sister. She immediately became a great scribbler of little poems and works of invention; and after two or three years her curiosity waked up so effectually that she became a most devoted though desultory reader, and by the age of fourteen she had carefully studied many of the best authors in her father's library, of which she had the uncontrolled range-making extracts and keeping a very intelligent catalogue raisonné of the books she read. A large part of her education, however, like Madame de Stael, on her little stool at her mother's knee, in the midst of the visiters who frequented the house of M. Neckar-she picked up from the conversation of the enlightened literary circle of acquaintance which was accustomed to assemble around her father's tea-table. When she afterwards became herself so suddenly and brilliantly distinguished, he used to say that she had received no other education than she had made out for herself; and her own words were, that "her sole emulation for improvement, and sole spur for exertion, were her unbounded veneration and affection for her father, who nevertheless had not, at the time, a moment to spare for giving her any personal instruction, or even for directing her pursuits." Dr. Burney married a second timea very sensible and excellent lady; an event which, instead of at all marring its harmony, brought only a new happiness to the most affectionate and amiable of homes. She happened, however, not to have a very exalted idea of the profitableness or propriety of female authorship, and did all in her power to discourage the tendency early betrayed by Fanny, who was constantly employed in secret scribbling, of which her elder sister, Susanna, was the sole confidante. Her affectionate alarm led her, as we are told, to inveigh very frequently and seriously against the evil of a scribbling turn in young ladies-the loss of time, the waste of thought, in idle, crude inventions and the (at that time) utter discredit of being known as a female writer of novels and romances. And such was the effect of her homilies on this theme, that Fanny, when in her fifteenth year, made an auto-da-fé of a great accumulation of her manuscripts, in the shape of a bonfire in a paved play-court, a sacrifice which was copiously moistened with the tears of her faithful Susanna, if not with her own. But whatever virtuous resolutions she may have been thus induced to form to throw away her pen, they do not seem to have availed much more, against the strong bent and destiny of her genius, than the rhymed promises of young Watts when under the persuasion of the paternal whip. She not only began, from about that period, to diarize pretty copiously, but she could not resist the temptation from time to time, as an occasional interval of leisure and solitude would permit, to scribble disjointed scraps, out of which she afterwards put together her first published novel, which ushered her with so much éclat into the literary world, "Evelina." It was written, for the most part, at the age of about eighteen, though it was arranged for publication, and actually published, about seven years afterwards. Within that period she was kept pretty laboriously at work for her father, as an amanuensis and assistant (besides other tasks) in preparing the great work to which he devoted a most zealous industry and research, his " History." This was not published till 1776. It was while thus actually engaged in the midst of this kind of literary occupation and publishing concerns, that— naturally enough, in sympathy with her father's feelings-she too was seized with that passion of print, which is the legitimate instinct and tendency of the most modest genius, as well as so often the fond fancy of conceited folly. Bnt as she had not written for print, so did she not print for praise-at least for the public praise of acknowledged authorship. So timid was her diffidence, almost to a degree of morbid absurdity, that she kept her secret carefully dark from her most intimate associates, even the father to whom she was attached with the tenderest devotion. Her sisters and her younger brother, Charles, were her only accomplices—the latter as the necessary intermediary between herself and the publisher. Her two aunts, as persons of reliable discretion, were afterwards let into the secret. It was in January, 1778, that the book was published, by Lowndes, a comparatively obscure bookseller, who gave for the manuscript the price of twenty pounds-an offer which was accepted "with alacrity and boundless surprise at its magnificence!" From the successful run it had, the lucky publisher made for himself an enormous profit-though he never remembered to feel that there was any call upon his generosity or justice to admit the author to any degree of participation in the fruits of the success due solely to her own talent. However, she received an ample compensation in other and better ways, as is made abundantly manifest in the pages of the Diary, the publication of which, in the volumes before us, is made to commence at this point-where she for the first time emerges out of the modest shades of her former quiet and retired life, into a strong light of fame and social distinction, which might well have dazzled stronger eyes with so sudden a blaze. Never was a book more instantaneously and universally successful-and never did one procure for its author more flattering tributes from quarters whose praise was praise indeed. For several months she enjoyed the success of which she heard in all directions, herself snugly ensconced in her well-guarded anonymous. Nothing gave her equal pleasure with that afforded her by the praise of her own father-who, after reading it, in perfect innocence of all suspicion of its authorship, expressed an unbounded admiration of it, setting it down as the best novel he knew, except Fielding's, and, in some respects, better than his. "This account," she thereon remarks, after hearing of this from her sister, delighted me more than I can express. How little did I dream of being so much honored! But the approbation of the world put together would not bear any competition in my estimation with that of my beloved father." The happy secret could not long after this be withheld from him. One of her sisters let the cat out of the bag, and the proud and fond father was not slow in carrying it about to let all the world see it. He told it to Mrs. Thrale-and this brought Fanny fairly "out" at Streatham, a house upon which she seems to have looked with an awe, for the high and rare literary tone and character of its circle, which made her first entrée there a matter of no slight degree of terror and trepidation. Johnson fell dead in love with her at once, as he had with her book on his perusal of it, and she continued an unabated pet with the rough old mammoth till the day of his death. And when to all this was added the fact, speedily bruited about, that Burke and Sir Joshua Reynolds entertained a similar opinion of it-that the former had sat up all night to finish it, and that the latter had not only done the same, but offered fifty pounds to know the name of the author-it will not be surprising that all the rest of the gay and literary world thronged to obey the authority of such an imprimatur; and that she speedily found herself transformed, in spite of her own most painful timidity and modesty, into a lion of the most approved roar and most fashionable parts. She afterward published" Cecilia" with a not inferior success, and was induced by the importunities of her friends (Sheridan included) to attempt a play, which she completed, with the title of "The Witlings;" but was wisely led to suppress it, by the kind criticism of her father and her excellent old friend, Mr. Crisp, of Chesington, of whom a delightful portrait appears, as well on the face of his own letters as of her own account of him. She continued to move as a courted and flattered member of the best society of England at that period, and herself as highly respected for her dignity and sweetness of character and manners, as admired for her talents and literary successes, till she was invited by the Queen to accept a post at court as one of her own personal attendants, in the year 1786. It was not without reluctance that she was induced so far to sacrifice her personal freedom, as to accept this honor, though it was an object of ambition to thousands of the daughters of the nobility. Her "place" was that of Keeper of the Robes, in which she had the misfortune of having for her senior coadjutrix a mighty disagreeable and ill-tempered old German lady, Madame Schwellenberg. She had to assist at the toilet of the Queen at stated hours, the duties very nearly resembling what would be termed, if performed in any inferior service, those of a "lady's maid." The highest pride of English nobility rarely, however, sees degradation in the most menial duties about the sacred person of royalty; and however they may sneer at the Yankee pride which more truly expresses the relation it denotes, by the more kindly word of "help," they have no objection, in their own persons, to being held in the regular attendance of a hireling servitude, morning, noon, and night, fed at an inferior table, and obedient to the tinkle of a bell, summoning to the duty of dressing and undressing a mistress, whose every smile they are officially bound to regard as a sunbeam, and whose every word of kindness a grace and condescension ineffable. So much, then, for Miss Burney herself, and her mode of life during the period embraced within these portions of her " Diary and Letters." We will now turn to other people, and as we skim lightly over the leaves of the book itself, dipping in as we pass here and there, introduce our readers to as many of the agreeable acquaintance she has helped us to form, as we can accommodate with room within our present limits. And first, enter old Johnson. Indignant as we are so often made by his savage temper, his cruel rudeness, and his merciless tyranny in criticism and social intercourse, there is always, after all, something so great and good and glorious about the old fellow, bitter and bad Tory as he was, which always fascinates our attention, and gives an interest to the slightest anecdote about him and almost every word that drops from his lips. She hears of his applause of "Evelina," in a letter from Mrs. Thrale to her father, before she had herself seen Mrs. Thrale, or known Dr. Johnson-with what sensations she shall herself relate: "But Dr. Johnson's approbation !-it almost crazed me with agreeable surprise -it gave me such a flight of spirits that I danced a jig to Mr. Crisp, without any preparation, music, or explanation ;-to his no small amazement and diversion. I left him, however, to make his own comments on my friskiness, without affording him the smallest assistance. Well may it be said that the greatest minds are ever the most candid to the inferior set! I think I should love Dr. Johnson for such lenity to a poor mere worm in literature, even if I were not my self the identical grub he has obliged." She is soon after invited and taken to Streatham; is placed at dinner next to his seat,-and "Soon after we were seated this great man entered. I have so true a veneration for him, that the very sight of him inspires me with delight and reverence, notwithstanding the cruel infirmities to which he is subject; for he has almost perpetual convulsive movements, either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, and sometimes of all together. "Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place. We had a noble dinner, and a most elegant dessert. Dr. Johnson, in the middle of the dinner, asked Mrs. Thrale what was in some little pies that were near him. "Mutton,' answered she, so I don't ask you to eat any, because I know you despise it.' "No, madam, no; I despise nothing that is good of its sort; but I am too proud now to eat of it. Sitting by Miss Burney makes me very proud to-day!' "Miss Burney,' said Mrs. Thrale, laughing, you must take great care of your heart if Dr. Johnson attacks it; for I assure you he is not often successless.' "What's that you say, madam?' cried he, are you making mischief between the young lady and me already?" "A little while after he drank Mrs. Thrale's health and mine, and then added: << "Tis a terrible thing that we cannot Johnson was too sensible a man not to understand the charms of occasional not to be fully up to the philosophy of nonsense-too wise and too great a one fun. If he was often savage as a tiger, he was at times frolicsome as a kither journal at Streatham: ten. The following is a scene from Mrs. Thrale, lest some flaws should ap"I fear to say all I think at present of pear by and by, that may make me think differently. And yet why should I not indulge the now, as well as the then, since it will be with so much more pleasure? In short, I do think her delightful; she has talents to create admiration, good humor to excite love, understanding to give entertainment, and a heart which, like my dear father's, seems already fitted for another world. My own knowledge of her, indeed, is very little for such a character; but all I have heard, and all I see, so well agree, that I won't prepare myself for a future disappointment. "But to return. Mrs. Thrale then asked whether Mr. Langton took any better care of his affairs than formerly? 66 6 No, madam,' cried the doctor,' and never will; he complains of the ill effects of habit, and rests contentedly upon a confessed indolence. He told his father himself that he had "no turn to economy;" but a thief might as well plead that he had " no turn to honesty." "Was not that excellent? "At night Mrs. Thrale asked if I would have anything? I answered No;' but Dr. Johnson said, "Yes; she is used, madam, to suppers; she would like an egg or two, and a few slices of ham, or a rasher—a rasher, I believe, would please her better.' "How ridiculous! However, nothing could persuade Mrs. Thrale not to have the cloth laid: and Dr. Johnson was so facetious, that he challenged Mr. Thrale to get drunk! 666 "I wish,' said he, my master would say to me," Johnson, if you will oblige me, you will call for a bottle of Toulon, and then we will set to it, glass for glass, till it is done;" and after that I will say, “Thrale, if you will oblige me, you will call for another bottle of Toulon, and then we will set to it, glass for glass, till that is done;" and by the time we should have drunk the two bottles, we should be so happy, and such good friends, that we should fly into each other's arms, and both together call for the third !' "I ate nothing, that they might not again use such a ceremony with me. Indeed, their late dinners forbid suppers, especially as Dr. Johnson made me eat cake at tea, for he held it till I took it, with an odd or absent complaisance. "He was extremely comical after supper, and would not suffer Mrs.Thrale and me to go to bed for near an hour after we made the motion." We here get a glimpse into Dr. Johnson's own domestic economy at Bolt Court, which is altogether too good to be lost: "At tea-time the subject turned upon the domestic economy of Dr. Johnson's own household. Mrs. Thrale has often acquainted me that his house is quite filled and overrun with strange creatures whom he admits for mere charity, and because nobody else will admit themfor his charity is unbounded--or rather, bounded only by his circumstances. "The account he gave of the adventures and absurdities of the set was highly diverting, but too diffused for writingthough one or two speeches I must give. I think I shall occasionally theatricalize my dialogues. all hopes of his ever doing anything properly, since I found he gave as much labor to Capua as to Rome. "Mr. T.-And pray who is clerk of your kitchen, sir? "Dr. J.-Why, sir, I am afraid there is none; a general anarchy prevails in my kitchen, as I am told by Mr. Levat, who says it is not now what it used to be! "Mrs. T.-Mr. Levat, I suppose, sir, has the office of keeping the hospital in health? for he is an apothecary. "Dr. J.-Levat, madam, is a brutal fellow, but I have a good regard for him; for his brutality is in his manners, not his mind. "Mr. T.-But how do you get your dinners drest? "Dr. J.---Why, De Mullin has the chief management of the kitchen; but our roasting is not magnificent, for we have no jack. "Mr.T.---No jack? Why, how do you manage without? "Dr. J.---Small joints, I believe, they manage with a string, and larger are done at the tavern. I have some thoughts (with a profound gravity) of buying a jack, because I think a jack is some credit to a house. "Mr. T.---Well, but you will have a spit too? "Dr. J.---No, sir, no, that would be superfluous, for we shall never use it; for if a jack is seen a spit will be presumed! "Mrs. T.---But pray, sir, who is the Poll you talk of? She that you used to abet in her quarrels with Mrs. Williams, and call out At her again, Poll! Never flinch, Poll!' 6 "Dr. J.---Why, I took to Poll very well at first, but she won't do upon a nearer examination. "Mrs. T.---How came she among you. "Mrs. Thrale-Pray, sir, how does sir? Mrs. Williams like all this tribe? "Dr. Johnson-Madam, she does not like them at all; but their fondness for her is not greater. She and De Mullin quarrel incessantly; but as they can both be of occasional service to each other, and as neither of them has any place to go to, their animosity does not force them to separate. "Dr. J.---Why, I don't rightly remember, but we could spare her very well from us. Poll is a stupid slut; I had some hopes of her at first; but when I talked to her tightly and closely, I could make nothing of her; she was wiggle waggle, and I could never persuade her to be categorical. I wish Miss Burney would come among us; if she would only "Mrs. T.-And pray, sir, what is Mr. give us a week, we should furnish her Macbean? "Dr. J.-Madam, he is a Scotchman: he is a man of great learning, and for his learning I respect him, and I wish to serve him. He knows many languages, and knows them well; but he knows nothing of life. I advised him to write a geographical dictionary; but I have lost with ample materials for a new scene in her next work." Presently afterward-(he had been complaining that he could not get Miss Burney to "prattle" with him)Mrs. Thrale told him that Mrs. Montagu was to dine there the next day, |