Fanny's First Novel

by Frank Frankfort Moore

DR. BURNEY had given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated with at Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume of the book was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to Streatham again in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he would make Mr. Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of “Evelina.”

He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would make the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first to learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place her above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for the knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize Mrs. Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr. Johnson dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale, but had only dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new house.

Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him; a teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of girls whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was defined by Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams of avarice. Dr. Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an influential connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing a signal good turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes, he felt sure that his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the most interesting of the many half-hours he had spent under the same hospitable roof.

And he was not mistaken in his surmise.

Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of his announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book upon which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn—indeed, he felt that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not immediately rush to the question of “Evelina” and remain there for the rest of the afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless bring with them some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship. He pictured himself allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a statement would be made which he should have to contradict point-blank. They would all look at him in surprise. What did he know about the matter? Was he interested in the question? Had he found out anything?

How he would smile while saying quietly:

“Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that 'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!”

That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.

But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to his ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame his desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he perceived that such a rôle should be taken by an influential patroness, and not by himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a cup of chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:

“I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley and the other ladies when I was last here.”