BOOKS.

FANNY B1JRNEY.* THE author of Evelina has, ever since the publication of her first book, enjoyed a reputation not wholly justified by her literary merit. She is of those who have been remembered as much for what they were as for what they did, and Mr. Austin Dobson was most wisely inspired when in his biography of "Little Burney" he gave the first place, not to her works, but to their author. He was, moreover, better qualified to do this than any one living, for he possesses a minute knowledge of the period; he is familiar with the many great ladies and gentlemen who thronged Dr. Burney's little study in St. Martin's Street to hear the music of the harpsicord, or the Italian songs of the beautiful Gabrielli. And so he can set Fanny Burney in her own world without the slightest difficulty. There is no suggestion in his book of erudition; he merely gives the reader the impression that he is on terms of perfect ease with his subject ; and he draws a pleasant portrait of the shy, retiring, "sensible," and ambitious creature that was Fanny Barney.

No one who aspires to write a novel of manners could have had a better upbringing than the author of Evelina. Her father was a man of the world as well as a celebrated musician. Not only did he know whom he chose in the intelligent society of the town, but " lions " in their passage through London rarely neglected to appear at one of his "musical conversa- tions." Accordingly Fanny Burney had no lack of material on which to feed her rare talent of delicate observation. She learnt her craft almost without knowing it. There was scarce one of her father's friends and visitors who did not reveal some whimsical trait of character, some peculiarity of speech or carriage. And since she wrote by nature, as the sparrows twitter, she had little need to go beyond her father's house for the material of her art. Seldom has a more distinguished company assembled within a narrow space than that which listened to Miithers duet in Dr. Burney's house. Thither came Mr. Garrick, acting as well off the stage as on it; James Bruce, the inarticulate traveller; Dr. Johnson, dismaying his company by amiable silences; the great Orloff himself, who had strangled an Emperor and loved an Empress, and who thought it no shame to adorn himself with £100,000 worth of diamonds ; Omai, the tattooed native of Otaheite, whom Reynolds painted; and finally, such mere gentry as Mr. Twigs, the Spanish, traveller, Lord Bruce, and Mr. Greville. Thus Fanny Burney never lacked sitters for her portraits; what she did not confide to her Diary she sent in letters to Daddy Crisp, as good a friend and as stern a critic as ever a novelist found; and all the while she was not only practising her eye, but improving her pen.

Fortunate as she was in her circle, she was fortunate also in the circumstances which attended the publication of Evelina. Her natural retirement made mystery easy, and when Lowndes, the publisher, received the manuscript he was as profoundly

• Fanny Burney. By Austin Dobson. "English Men of Letters Series." London : Macmillan and Co. 12s.1

in the dark as the rest of the world. He addressed his letters to Mr. Grafton at the Orange coffee-house ; and although he gave Miss Burney no more than 220 for the manuscript, he kept her secret perfectly, perhaps because it was never in his possession. But the authorship of the book was soon guessed, and the creator of Lord Orville and Mr. Smith, of Captain Mirvan and the Branghtons, found herself very famous indeed. Yet she played the part of a successful author with an admirable modesty, and captured as many friends by her amiable humour as by her proven talent. Above all, she won the approval of the man whose good opinion was best worth the winning,—Samuel Johnson. The great lexicographer, in fact, was never tired of praising his "dear Little Burney." He compared her, much to her advantage, with Richardson and Fielding, declaring that both the masters would have been afraid of her. Then he would shake his head at her as he exclaimed : "Oh, you little character-monger you," confessing that she was "his hero." "Dr. Goldsmith was my last," said he; "but I have had none since his time, till my Little Burney came." And through it all Fanny did not lose her head.

When Daddy Crisp urged her to suppress a comedy which she had written for Mr. Sheridan, she gladly accepted his advice. 'Bit success, if it did not turn her head, took her into another world, and immeasurably increased her experience.

Above all, Mrs. Thrale was most gracious to her, and in the famous house at Streatham she met all the wits and blue-

stockings of the town. Her father thought she was wasting her time, but the excellent Crisp knew better. "You are now at school," said he, "the great school of the world, where swarms of new ideas and new characters will continually present themselves before you—

'Which you'll draw in, As we do air, fast as 'tis ministered."

The result of her new experience was Cecilia, which, although it is by no means equal to Melina, vastly increased

her momentary reputation. It had, of course, many admirable touches of wit and character, but it lacked the freshness of its predecessor. Its worst fault—a fault that is well-

nigh fatal—is a pretentiousness of style modelled upon the mannerisms of Dr. Johnson. The affection of the kindly old critic had the worst effect upon his pupil, and though Ma.caulay's charge, that the Doctor bad cor- rected the manuscript, is without foundation, the fault was glaring enough to be deplored by Fanny Burney's con- ' temporaries, and to render Cecilia to-day almost unreadable. But there was no mistaking the triumph. The author received enough flattery to satisfy the vainest ambition. "This is the harvest of your life," wrote the faithful Crisp; "your sun shines hot ; lose not a moment, then, but make your hay. directly. Touch the yellow boys '—as Briggs says= grow warm'; make the booksellers come down handsomely—count the ready—the chink." But Fanny was not to be tempted by avarice; she preferred her literary conscience to all the "yellow boys" in the world ; she believed,

as she told the Queen, that she had exhausted herself; and it is exceedingly probable that, if she had not felt the pinch of poverty, she would never have written another

line. At any rate, Cecilia is separated from her next book by fourteen years, and in the meantime she had dis-

appointed all the prophets, and accepted the position of dresser in the Queen's household. And now she began to live romance instead of to write it. It is true that the life of the English Court was sufficiently humdrum, but Miss Burney

was the unwilling witness of the King's affliction; she had one modest little love affair of her own; and she noted with her accustomed shrewdness the humours and follies of her colleagues. But she was not born to be a courtier, and in less than five years she had tired of the life. The rest of her story is soon told. In 1793 she married M. Alexandre d'Arblay, a French emigri, with whom she lived in perfect

happiness until his death. She wrote, under the stress of poverty, two more novels, and after her death was

published the celebrated Diary, to which, rather than to her

stories, she owes her immortality. Hers, indeed, was a suave and gentle career, and it has been fittingly portrayed by Mr.

Austin Dobson. The biographer has omitted nothing that will throw light upon the subject; he is as zealous to describe Fanny's friends as Fanny herself; and his monograph is in all respects worthy of the admirable series in which it appears.