Fanny's First Novel

by Frank Frankfort Moore

IT was on one of the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was reading out of the newly-arrived London Chronicle such paragraphs as she thought would appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table. There were a few announcements of marriages about to take place between people whose names they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being stated in each in plain figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to affirm in one or two cases that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest that if the father of the bride were just enough to pay his debts first, the portion of his daughter would be considerably reduced. In the case of one of the gentlemen, who was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she ventured to express the hope that he would now pay at least some of his creditors.

These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting Mr. F———, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because of Lady P———'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y———; or that which suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between the beautiful Mrs. G——— and her husband, for they had been seen taking the air together in the Park.

It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he had always admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he considered Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the Drury Lane company.

It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to put it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye—she commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified critic:

“More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr. Lowndes—three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day. Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr. Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring so at your sister, Lottie?”

Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when asked to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.

“I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of hashed mutton,” said Lottie glibly. “If she had gone to school in France she would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there.”

“I am not partial to French kickshaws,” said Mrs. Burney. “There's nothing like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making food tasty when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad one. Hash of mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such without further question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as well, He would have made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast pheasant.”

“Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of mutton,” said Fanny. “What does it signify whether one sits down to a simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at Mr. Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast beef and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for Dr. Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork—those were on the table at one time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can eat is a single slice of beef?”

She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant to take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances which she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.