Capitals are supplied, when required, for proper names and for the beginnings of sentences. Final periods are supplied when required at the end of sentences, and quotation marks added when missing from dialogue. Standard forms are used for ‘Mr’, ‘Mme’, ‘Mlle’, etc., as well as for numerals. Full stops in titles (Mr, Mrs, Dr) have been omitted. Ellipses (on a separate line) indicate omissions within a selection.

Our headings to each selection indicate whether the selection is a journal, a journal letter or a letter (or in one case a verse letter). ‘Journal’ alone means an entry FB addressed to herself (or ‘Miss Nobody’, her fanciful alter ego); a ‘journal letter’ is a substantial effort written to a correspondent over a period of at least several days; a ‘letter’ is typically written in one day. In the case of journal letters our dates indicate the specific day of an entry, rather than the inclusive dates of the whole. An extract from a selection on a given date is indicated by ‘From’, as in ‘From Journal 17 July 1768’. Selections given substantially in their entirety are designated, for example, ‘Letter to Esther Burney 8 January 1781’.

Our annotations provide essential context. Full names, titles (as appropriate) and dates of birth and death are given in the index. We have translated foreign words and phrases (usually French), explained obscure terms and expressions, identified unattributed quotations, elucidated historical and personal events, and so on. Information is taken from the standard editions of EJL and JL, supplemented by the editors’ additional research.

1768—1777

The Apprentice Years

1. Journal 27 March 1768

Poland Street,1 London

To have some account of my thoughts, manners, acquaintance and actions, when the Hour arrives at which time is more nimble than memory, is the reason which induces me to keep a Journal: a Journal in which I must confess my every thought, must open my whole Heart! But a thing of this kind ought to be addressed to somebody – I must imagine myself to be talking – talking to the most intimate of friends – to one in whom I should take delight in confiding, and feel remorse in concealment: but who must this friend be? – to make choice of one to whom I can but half rely, would be to frustrate entirely the intention of my plan. The only one I could wholly, totally confide in, lives in the same House with me, and not only never has, but never will, leave me one secret to tell her.2 To whom, then must I dedicate my wonderful, surprising and interesting adventures? – to whom dare I reveal my private opinion of my nearest Relations? the secret thoughts of my dearest friends? my own hopes, fears, reflections and dislikes – Nobody!

To Nobody, then, will I write my Journal! since To Nobody can I be wholly unreserved – to Nobody can I reveal every thought, every wish of my Heart, with the most unlimited confidence, the most unremitting sincerity to the end of my Life! For what chance, what accident can end my connections with Nobody? No secret can I conceal from No – body, and to No – body can I be ever unreserved. Disagreement cannot stop our affection, Time itself has no power to end our friendship. The love, the esteem I entertain for Nobody, No-body’s self has not power to destroy. From Nobody I have nothing to fear, the secrets sacred to friendship, Nobody will not reveal, when the affair is doubtful, Nobody will not look towards the side least favourable. –

I will suppose you, then, to be my best friend; tho’ God forbid you ever should! my dearest companion – and a romantick Girl, for mere oddity may perhaps be more sincere – more tender – than if you were a friend in propria personae3 – in as much as imagination often exceeds reality. In your Breast my errors may create pity without exciting contempt; may raise your compassion, without eradicating your love.

From this moment, then, my dear Girl – but why, permit me to ask, must a female be made Nobody? Ah! my dear, what were this world good for, were Nobody a female? And now I have done with preambulation.

2. From Journal July 1768

I am going to tell you something concerning myself, which, if I have not chanced to mention it before will I believe a little surprise you – it is, that I scarse wish for any thing so truly, really and greatly, as to be in love – upon my word I am serious – and very gravely and sedately, assure you it is a real and true wish. I cannot help thinking it is a great happiness to have a strong and particular attachment to some one person, independent of duty, interest, relationship or pleasure: but I carry not my wish so far as for a mutual tendresse – No, I should be contented to love sola – and let Duets be reserved for those who have a proper sense of their superiourity. For my own part I vow and declare that the mere pleasure of having a great affection for some one person to which I was neither guided by fear, hope of profit, gratitude, respect – or any motive but mere fancy would sufficiently satisfy me, and I should not at all wish a return. Lord Bless me – how I run in! foolish and ill-Judged! – how despicable a picture have I drawn of an object of Love! – mere giddiness, not inclination, I am sure, penn’d it – Love without respect or gratitude! – that could only be felt for a person wholly undeserving – but indeed I write so much at random that it is much more a chance if I know what I am saying, than if I do not.

3. Journal 13 July 1768

Cabin1 – Wednesday afternoon.

I always spend the Evening, sometimes all the afternoon, in this sweet Cabin – except sometimes, when unusually thoughtful, I prefer the Garden. – I cannot express the pleasure I have in writing down my thoughts, at the very moment – my opinion of people when I first see them, and how I alter, or how confirm myself in it – and I am much deceived in my fore sight, if I shall not have very great delight in reading this living proof of my manner of passing my time, my sentiments, my thoughts of people I know, and a thousand other things in future. – There is something to me very Unsatisfactory in passing year after year without even a memorandum of what you did, etc. And then, all the happy Hours I spend with particular Friends and Favourites, would fade from my recollection. –

4. From Journal 17 July 1768

I have lately Read the Prince of Abyssinia1 – I am almost equally charm’d and shock’d at it – the style, the sentiments are inimitable – but the subject is dreadful – and, handled as it is by Dr Johnson, might make any young, perhaps old, person tremble – O, how dreadful, how terrible is it to be told by a man of his genius and knowledge, in so affectingly probable a manner, that true, real happiness is ever unattainable in this world! – Thro’ all the scenes, publick or private, domestick or solitary, that Nekaya or Rasselas pass, real felicity eludes their pursuit and mocks their solicitude. In high Life, superiority, envy and haughtiness battle the power of preferment, favour and greatness – and with or without them, all is Animosity, suspicion, apprehension, and misery – in Private familys, disagreement, Jealousy and partiality, destroy all domestick felicity and all social chearfulness, and all is peevishness, contradiction, ill will and wretchedness! – And in solitude, Imagination paints the World in a new light, every bliss which was wanting when in it, appears easily attained when away from it, but the loneliness of retirement seems unsocial, dreary, savouring of misanthropy and melancholy – and all is anxiety, doubt, fear and anguish! In this manner does Dr Johnson proceed in his melancholy conviction of the instability of all human enjoyments, and the impossibility of all earthly happiness.