(Fanny Burney to Mr. Crisp.) Friday, July 30This seems a strange, unseasonable period for my undertaking, but yet, my dear daddy, when you have read my conVersation with Mr. Sheridan, I believe you will agree that I must have been wholly insensible, nay, almost ungrateful, to resist encouragement such as he gave me—­nay, more than encouragement, entreaties, all of which he warmly repeated to my father.

Now, as to the play itself, I own I had wished to have been the bearer of it when I visit Chesington; but you seem so urgent, and my father himself is so desirous to carry it you, that I have given that plan up.

O my dear daddy, if your next letter were to contain your real opinion of it, how should I dread to open it!  Be, however, as honest as your good nature and delicacy will allow you to be, and assure yourself I shall be very certain that all your criticisms will proceed from your earnest wishes to obviate 146

those of others, and that you would have much more pleasure in being my panegyrist.

As to Mrs. Gast, I should be glad to know what I would refuse to a sister of yours.  Make her, therefore, of your coterie, if she is with you while the piece is in your possession.

And now let me tell you what I wish in regard to this affair.  I should like that your first reading should have nothing to do with me-that you should go quick through it, or let my father read it to you-forgetting all the time, as much as you can, that Fannikin is the writer, or even that it is a play in manuscript, and capable of alterations ;-and then, when you have done, I should like to have three lines, telling me, as nearly as you can trust my candour, its general effect.  After that take it to your own desk, and lash it at your leisure.

(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney.)

The fatal knell, then, is knolled, and down among the dead men sink the poor " Witlings “-for ever, and for ever, and for ever!

I give a sigh, whether I will or not, to their memory! for, however worthless, they were mes enfans.  You, my dear sir, who enjoyed, I really think, even more than myself, the astonishing success of my first attempt, would, I believe, even more than myself, be hurt at the failure of my second; and I am sure I speak from the bottom of a very honest heart, when I most solemnly declare, that upon your account any disgrace would mortify and afflict me more than upon my own ; for whatever appears with your knowledge, will be naturally supposed to have met with your approbation, and, perhaps, your assistance; therefore, though all particular censure would fall where it ought—­upon me—­yet any general censure of the whole, and the plan, would cruelly, but certainly involve you in its severity.

You bid me open my heart to you,—­and so, my dearest sir, I will, for it is the greatest happiness of my life that I dare be sincere to you.  I expected many objections to be raised—­a thousand errors to be pointed out-and a million of alterations to be proposed; but the suppression of the piece were words I did not expect; indeed, after the warm approbation of Mrs. Thrale, and the repeated commendations and flattery of Mr. Murphy, how could I?