Frank Frankfort Moore

“ Oh, it is too cruel!”
“You dear child,” said Fanny. “It is only cruel if it sets you crying in this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing it is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks down plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but it sinks to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the difference between a splash and a ripple. ”

“ The truth that had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds’ superb canvases, that love was more than all else that the world could give her, remained before her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her life; and the happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that she could go to the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without fearing that he would hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that he had been a fool to ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would hear the whispers of those who might suggest that she had done very well for herself. ”

“ Lord, where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who hold fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the women who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time dipping quills in inkhorns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might with luck be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log of a frigate of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of Sir Joshua Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his heart that his sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two with the proceeds? ”

“ Good sense and good nature go hand in hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose paths of life, but along the King’s highway of every day, where they run no chance of jostling the simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy of any by the flaunting of feathers in their face. Good sense and good nature are best satisfied when they attract no attention, but pass on to obscurity, smiling at the struggle of others to be accounted persons of importance.”
[55]
“Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?” cried Esther.
Fanny laughed enigmatically. ”

“ That was all she longed for at first—to be recognized as “the one who writes,” as people recognized “the one who plays.”
But since Signor Rauzzini had come upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt not merely of recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud of her, and that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the Roman singer. That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a feeling of depression as she reflected upon the improbability of its ever being realized, and if it should not be realized, all hope of happiness would pass from her life. ”

“ She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas’s suit was hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not sure of this; but she was convinced that butcher’s meat was not. That was where she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too much dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the solemnity that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was slicing away all his chances of commending himself to Fanny. ”

“ Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him? That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother—let that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother’s love. ”

“ Garrick?”
“It would be more real, I trust,” said her stepmother. “He would have us believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the puppets which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a few years ago.”
Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world, the more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a puppet-show; only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a draught of wind from another world the real comedy began. She felt that as an interpreter of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off. ”

“ Boswell, as a gossip-monger, had no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying—nosing out germs of scandal—ever ready to make mischief by telling people all the nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on them—and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late, had no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom she came to rescue.
But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny Burney. ”

“ Thomas felt that no ordinary person could be accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a tall, able-bodied young naval man who had begun his education under a murderer and had gone to complete it among the cannibals of the South Seas; and, in addition, an elderly gentleman who fancied that he could bring any sound out of a trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of his lips, and had shown himself ready to extol the scholarship of any man who had been hanged.
But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. ”

“ I am not one of those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there is to be known about a book without cutting the leaves, or even—if you slip a guinea into their hand—without opening the covers.”
“I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson’s health has not been so bad as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that great man—nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?” ”

“ Burney, without seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase it, he had tipped Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if she had previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by the solemnity of his face.
[8]
Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
“The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe,” said he. “It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale as much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town—they cannot help themselves, ces pauvres Burneys! ”

“ You are you—you yourself quite apart from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it matter if people—foolish people who know nothing about it—laugh at it or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any of us like you the less?”
She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny’s tears began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than he had ever felt in his life. ”

“ Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank within her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she should hope to reach by the publication of that story which she had been writing by stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even the smallest measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor Rauzzini? What fame attached to the writing of a novel in comparison with that achieved by the enchantment of a singer who had power to move the hearts of men and women as it pleased him? ”

“ There was nothing to interrupt her in her delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
“Not another line,” she cried, jumping from her chair. “Poor Evelina! she will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to see more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted. Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention.”
“Give me the volume,” he said. “I usually awake before six, and so shall have a couple of hours of it before rising.”
“You will not get it from me, sir,” she cried. ”

“ Still, if you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr. Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless, and if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find some day, not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so repugnant to you. You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway between twenty and thirty every extra year counts in reducing one’s chances of being settled in life. ”

“ Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled her approval.
“The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing,” resumed the Roman; “the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it—a single breath—and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful creature has gone also.”
“I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly,” said Fanny, smiling. “The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle—all that is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but nothing else.” ”

“ Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again she was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a smirk. That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney—it was an evening of ordeals.
She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
“I am ready to go away now,” she said. “We have never stayed at any house so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death.” ”

“ And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two Fanny Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney altogether—the Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer, and this was certainly the most wonderful of the three.
The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life had come to her: there was nothing [209] worth anything in the world save only loving and being loved. ”

“ She stood at the inner side of the closed door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the cobble-stones.
So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she had submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a simpleton—a foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of business and booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print everything that was sent to him. ”

“ Before long his compassion for her so stimulated his imagination that he began to think of the possibility of his rescuing her—he began to think of himself in the character of a hero—he did not remember the name of any particular hero who had carried off a young woman who was placed in a similar situation to that occupied by Miss Burney; but he had no doubt that more than one romance was founded upon the doings of such a man as he felt himself fully qualified to be, if he made up his mind to assume such a rôle. ”

“ You are not angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed.”
“Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself, only more intensely,” said Fanny. “’Tis one of the greatest mysteries of life—the only mystery of life that I have yet faced—why a man who is as handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman like myself! ”

“ All the time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a second duet, and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet to the case of the piano, still fondly believing that he was also a performer with the mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling wave after wave of pity passing over him for the unhappy position of the shy girl in the midst of so doubtful a household. ”

“ Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
“My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people such as ourselves to live as simple people,” said Mrs. Burney. “I protest that I have felt it; the moment he enters our house we seem to be in a new world—whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to.” ”

“ Barlowe?” she cried.
Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny meant her to be.
But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the words or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters puzzling their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders are unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and Esther was by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of her position as a married woman. ”

“ Goldsmith—this man was actually at that very moment sitting in his arm-chair eagerly reading the words which their sister Fanny had written!
The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them was to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a pleasant, homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson jig for them and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth taking off; the other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that great men forsook the society of other great men to read! ”

“ For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to a butcher’s bill—a life in which dreams play a part of no greater significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the unalterable routine of the setting sun. ”