1784.

“To Dr. Burney.“I had yesterday the pleasure of voting you, my dear Sir, a salary of fifty pounds a year, as organist to Chelsea Hospital. But as every increase of salary made at our Board is subject to the approbation of the Lords of the Treasury, what effect the change now made may have I know not;—but I do not think any Treasury will rescind it.“This waspour faire la bonne boucheat parting with office; and I am only sorry that it did not fall in my way to shew you a more substantial mark of my high respect for you and Miss Burney.“I have the honour to be, &c.“Edm. Burke.”“Horse Guards, Dec. 9, 1783.”“I really could not do this business at a more early period, else it would have been done infallibly.”

“To Dr. Burney.

“I had yesterday the pleasure of voting you, my dear Sir, a salary of fifty pounds a year, as organist to Chelsea Hospital. But as every increase of salary made at our Board is subject to the approbation of the Lords of the Treasury, what effect the change now made may have I know not;—but I do not think any Treasury will rescind it.

“This waspour faire la bonne boucheat parting with office; and I am only sorry that it did not fall in my way to shew you a more substantial mark of my high respect for you and Miss Burney.

“I have the honour to be, &c.

“Edm. Burke.”

“Horse Guards, Dec. 9, 1783.”

“I really could not do this business at a more early period, else it would have been done infallibly.”

The pleasure of Dr. Burney at this event was sensibly dampt when he found thatla bonne boucheso kindly made for himself, and so flatteringly uniting his daughter in its intentions, was unallied to any species of remuneration, or even of consideration, to Mr. Burke himself, for all his own long willing services, his patriotic exertions for the general good, and his noble, even where erroneous, efforts to stimulate public virtue.

A short time afterwards, Mr. Burke called himself in St. Martin’s-street, and,—for the Doctor, as usual, was not at home,—Mr. Burke, as usual, had the condescension to inquire for this Memorialist; whom he found alone.

He entered the room with that penetrating look, yet open air, that marked his demeanour where his object in giving was, also, to receive pleasure; and in uttering apologies of as much elegance for breaking into her time, as if he could possibly be ignorant of the honour he did her; or blind to the delight with which it was felt.

He was anxious, he said, to make known in person that the business of the Chelsea Organ was finally settled at the Treasury.

Difficult would it be, from the charm of his manner as well as ofhis words, to decide whether he conveyed this communication with most friendliness or most politeness: but, having delivered for Dr. Burney all that officially belonged to the business, he thoughtfully, a moment, paused; and then impressively said: “This is my last act of office!”

He pronounced these words with a look that almost affectionately displayed his satisfaction that it should so be bestowed; and with such manly self-command of cheerfulness in the midst of frankly undisguised regret that all his official functions were over, that his hearer was sensibly, though silently touched, by such distinguishing partiality. Her looks, however, she hopes, were not so mute as her voice, for those of Mr. Burke seemed responsively to accept their gratitude. He reiterated, then, his kind messages to the Doctor, and took leave.

The reviving ray of pleasure that gleamed from the kindness of Mr. Burke at the close of the fatal year 1783, still spread its genial warmth over Dr. Burney at the beginning of 1784, by brightening a hope of recovery for Dr. Johnson; a hope which, though frequently dimmed, cast forth, from time to time, a transitory lustre nearly to this year’s conclusion.

Dr. Burney now was become a member of the Literary Club; in which he found an association so select, yet so various, that there were few things, either of business or pleasure, that he ever permitted to interfere with his attendance. Where, indeed, could taste point out, or genius furnish, a society to meet his wishes, if that could fail which had the decided national superiority of Johnson and Burke at its head? while Banks, Beauclerk, Boswell, Colman, Courtney, Eliot (Earl,) Fox, Gibbon, Hamilton (Sir William,) Hinchcliffe, Jones, Macartney (Earl,) Malone, Percy, Reynolds, Scott (Lord Sewel,) Sheridan, Spencer(Earl,) Windham, and many others of high and acknowledged abilities, successively entering, marked this assemblage as the pride—not of this meeting alone, but of the Classical British Empire of the day.

It had been the original intention of Dr. Johnson, when this club, of which the idea was conceived by Sir Joshua Reynolds, was in contemplation, to elect amongst its members some one of noted reputation in every art, science, and profession; to the end that solid information might elucidate every subject that should be started. This profound suggestion, nevertheless, was either passed over, or overruled.

It is probable that those, so much the larger portion of mankind, who love light and desultory discourse, were persuaded they should find more amusement in wandering about the wilds of fanciful conjecture, than in submitting to be disciplined by the barriers of systemized conviction.

Brightly forward at this club came Mr. Windham, of Felbrig, amongst those whose penetration had long since preceded the public voice in ranking Dr. Burney as a distinguished Man of Letters. And from the date of these meetings, their early esteem was augmented into partial, yet steady regard.

Mr. Windham was a true and first rate gentleman; polite, cultivated, learned, upright, and noble-minded. To an imagination the most ardent for whatever could issue from native genius in others, he joined a charm of manner that gave an interest to whatever he uttered himself; no matter how light, how slight, how unimportant; that invested it with weight and pleasure to his auditor: while in his smile there was a gentleness that singularly qualified an almost fiery animation in his words. To speak, however, of his instantaneous powers of pleasing,—though it be conferring on him one of the least common of Nature’s gifts, as well as one of the fairest,—is insufficient to characterize the peculiar charm of his address; for it was not simply the power of pleasing that he possessed—it was rather that of winning.

In the ensuing spring and summer, a new and brilliant professional occupation fell, fortunately, to the task of Dr. Burney, drawing him from his cares, and beguiling him from his sorrows, by notes of sweetest melody, and combinations of the most intricate, yet sound harmony; for this year, which completed a century from the birth ofHandel, was allotted for a public Commemoration of that great musician and his works.

Dr. Burney, justly proud of the honour paid to the chief of that art of which he was a professor, was soon, and instinctively wound up to his native spirits, by the exertions which were called forth in aid of this noble enterprise. He suggested fresh ideas to the Conductors; he was consulted by all the Directors; and his advice and experience enlightened every member of the business in whatever walk he moved.

Not content, however, to be merely a counsellor to a celebration of such eclât in his own career, he resolved upon becoming the Historian of the transaction; and upon devoting to it his best labours gratuitously, by presenting them to the fund for the benefit of decayed musicians and their families.

This offer, accordingly, he made to the honourable Directors; by whom it was accepted with pleasure and gratitude.

He now delegated all his powers to the furtherance of this grand scheme; and drew up a narrative of the festival, with so much delight in recording the disinterestedness of its voluntary performers; its services to the superannuated or helpless old labourers of his caste;and the splendid success of the undertaking; that his history of the performances in Commemoration of Handel, presents a picture so vivid of that superb entertainment, that those who still live to remember it, must seem to witness its stupendous effects anew: and those of later days, who can know of it but by tradition, must bewail their little chance of ever personally hearing such magnificent harmony; or beholding a scene so glorious of royal magnificence and national enthusiasm.

Dr. Johnson was wont to say, with a candour that, though admirable, was irresistibly comic, “I always talk my best!” and, with equal singleness of truth it might be said of Dr. Burney, that, undertake what he would, he always did his best.

In writing, therefore, this account, he conceived he should make it more interesting by preceding it with the Memoirs of Handel. And for this purpose, he applied to all his German correspondents, to acquire materials concerning the early life of his hero; and to all to whom Handel had been known, either personally or traditionally, in England and Ireland, for anecdotes of his character and conduct in the British empire. Mrs. Delany here, and by the desire of the King himself, supplied sundry particulars; her brother, Mr. Granville, having beenone of the patrons of this immortal composer.

And next, to render the work useful, he inserted a statement of the cash received in consequence of the five musical performances, with the disbursement of the sums to their charitable purposes; and an abstract of the general laws and resolutions of the fund for the support of decayed musicians and their families.

And lastly, he embellished it with several plates, representing Handel, or in honour of Handel; and with two views, from original designs,[73]of the interior of Westminster Abbey during the Commemoration: the first representing the galleries prepared for the reception of their Majesties, of the Royal Family, of the Directors, Archbishops, Bishops, Dean and Chapter of Westminster, heads of the law, &c. &c.

The second view displaying the orchestra and performers, in the costume of the day.

Not small in the scales of justice must be reckoned this gift of the biographical and professional talents of Dr. Burney to the musical fund. A man who held his elevation in his class of life wholly fromhimself; a father of eight children, who all looked up to him as their prop; a professor who, at fifty-eight years of age, laboured at his calling with the indefatigable diligence of youth; and who had no time, even for his promised History, but what he spared from his repasts or his repose; to make any offering, gratuitously, of a work which, though it might have no chance of sale when its eclât of novelty was passed, must yet, while that short eclât shone forth, have a sale of high emolument; manifested, perhaps, as generous a spirit of charity, and as ardent a love of the lyre, as could well, by a person in so private a line of life, be exhibited.

Dr. Burney was, of course, so entirely at home on a subject such as this, that he could only have to wait the arrival of his foreign materials to go to work; and only begin working to be in sight of his book’s completion: but the business of the plates could not be executed quite so rapidly; on the contrary, though the composition was finished in a few weeks, it was not till the following year that the engravings were ready for publication.

This was a laxity of progress that by no means kept pace with the eagerness of the Directors, or the expectations of the public: and the former frequently made known their disappointment through thechannel of the Earl of Sandwich; who, at the same time, entered into correspondence with the Doctor, relative to future anniversary concerts upon a similar plan, though upon a considerably lessened scale to that which had been adopted for the Commemoration.

The inconveniences, however, of this new labour, though by no means trifling, because absorbing all the literary time of the Doctor, to the great loss and procrastination of his musical history, had compensations, that would have mitigated much superior evil.

The King himself deigned to make frequent inquiry into the state of the business; and when his Majesty knew that the publication was retarded only by the engravers, he desired to see the loose and unbound sheets of the work, which he perused with so strong an interest in their contents, that he drew up two critical notes upon them, with so much perspicuity and justness, that Dr. Burney, unwilling to lose their purport, yet not daring to presume to insert them with the King’s name in any appendix, cancelled the two sheets to which they had reference, and embodied their meaning in his own text. At this he was certain theKing could not be displeased, as it was with his Majesty’s consent that they had been communicated to the doctor, by Mr. Nicolai, a page of the Queen’s.

Now, however, there seems to be no possible objection to giving to the public these two notes from the original royal text, as the unassuming tone of their advice cannot but afford a pleasing reminiscence to those by whom that benevolent monarch was known; while to those who are too young to recollect him, they may still be a matter of laudable curiosity. And they will obviate, also, any ignorant imputation of flattery, in the praise which is inserted in the dedication of the Work to the King; and which will be subjoined to these original notes.

From the hand-writing of his Majesty George III.

“It seems but just, as well as natural, in mentioning the 4th Hautbois Concerto, on the 4th day’s performance of Handel’s Commemoration, to take notice of the exquisite taste and propriety Mr. Fischer exhibited in the solo parts; which must convince his hearers that his excellence does not exist alone in performing his own composition; and that histone perfectly filled the stupendous building where this excellent concerto was performed.”

From the same.

“The performance of the Messiah.

“Dr. Burney seems to forget the great merit of the choral fugue, ‘He trusteth in God,’ by asserting that the words would admit of no stroke of passion. Now the real truth is, that the words contain a manifest presumption and impertinence, which Handel has, in the most masterly manner, taken advantage of. And he was so conscious of the moral merit of that movement, that, whenever he was desired to sit down to the harpsichord, if not instantly inclined to play, he used to take this subject; which ever set his imagination at work, and made him produce wonderful capriccios.”

From Dr. Burney’s Dedication.

“That pleasure in music should be complete, science and nature must assist each other. A quick sensibility of melody and harmony is not often originally bestowed; and those who are born with this susceptibility of modulated sounds are often ignorant of itsprinciples, and must, therefore, in a great degree be delighted by chance. But when your Majesty is present, the artists may congratulate themselves upon the attention of a judge, in whom all requisites concur, who hears them not merely with instinctive emotion, but with rational approbation; and whose praise of Handel is not the effusion of credulity, but the emanation of science.”

With feelings the most poignant, and a pen the most reluctant, the Memorialist must now relate an event which gave peculiar and lasting concern to Dr. Burney; and which, though long foreseen, had lost nothing, either from expectation or by preparation, of its inherent unfitness.

About the middle of this year, Mrs. Thrale put an end to the alternate hopes and fears of her family and friends, and to her own torturing conflicts, by a change of name that, for the rest of her life, produced nearly a change of existence.

Her station in society, her fortune, her distinguished education, and her conscious sense of its distinction; and yet more, her highorigin[74]—a native honour, which had always seemed the glory of her self-appreciation; all had contributed to lift her so eminently above the witlessly impetuous tribe, who immolate fame, interest, and duty to the shrine of passion, that the outcry of surprise and censure raised throughout the metropolis by these unexpected nuptials, was almost stunning in its jarring noise of general reprobation; resounding through madrigals, parodies, declamation, epigrams, and irony.

And yet more deeply wounding was the concentrated silence of those faithful friends who, at the period of her bright display of talents, virtues, and hospitality, had attached themselves to her person with sincerity and affection.

Dr. Johnson excepted, none amongst the latter were more painfully impressed than Dr. Burney; for none with more true grief had foreseen the mischief in its menace, or dreaded its deteriorating effect on her maternal devoirs. Nevertheless, conscious thatif he had no weight, he had also no right over her actions, he hardened not his heart, when called upon by an appeal, from her own hand, to give her his congratulations; but, the deed once irreversible, civilly addressed himself to both parties at once, with all of conciliatory kindness in good wishes and regard, that did least violence to his sentiments and principles.

Far harder was the task of his daughter, on receiving from the new bride a still more ardent appeal, written at the very instant of quitting the altar: she had been trusted while the conflict still endured; and her opinions and feelings had unreservedly been acknowledged in all their grief of opposition: and their avowal had been borne, nay, almost bowed down to, with a liberality of mind, a softness of affection, a nearly angelic sweetness of temper, that won more fondly than ever the heart that they rived with pitying anguish,— —till the very epoch of the second marriage.

Yet, strange to tell! all this contest of opinion, and dissonance of feeling, seemed, at the altar, to be suddenly, but in totality forgotten! and the bride wrote to demand not alone kind wishes for her peace and welfare—those she had no possibility of doubting—but joy,wishing joy; but cordial felicitations upon her marriage!

These, and so abruptly, to have accorded, must, even in their pleader’s eyes, have had the semblance, and more than the semblance, of the most glaring hypocrisy.

A compliance of such inconsistency—such falsehood—the Memorialist could not bestow; her answer, therefore, written in deep distress, and with regrets unspeakable, was necessarily disappointing; disappointment is inevitably chilling; and, after a painful letter or two, involving mistake and misapprehension, the correspondence—though not on the side of the Memorialist—abruptly dropt.

The minuter circumstances of this grievous catastrophe to a connexion begun with the most brilliant delight, and broken up with the acutest sorrow, might seem superfluous in the Memoirs of Dr. Burney: yet, in speaking of him Biographically, in his Fatherly capacity, it is necessarily alluded to, for the purpose of stating that the conduct of his daughter, throughout the whole of this afflicting and complex transaction, from the time he was acquainted with its difficulties, had his uniform, nay, warmest sanction.

And not more complete in concurrence upon thissubject were their opinions than was their unhappiness; and the Doctor always waited, and his daughter always panted, for any opportunity that might re-open so dear a friendship, without warring against their principles, or disturbing their reverence for truth.

Fortunately, and most seasonably, just about the time that these extraordinary nuptials were in agitating approach, an intercourse the most benign was opened between the family of Dr. Burney and that of Mr. Locke, of Norbury Park.

The value of such an intercourse was warmly appreciated by Dr. Burney, to whose taste it was sympathy, and to whose feelings it was animation: while the period at which it took place, that of a blight the most baneful to himself and his second daughter, gave to it a character of salubrity as restorative to their nerves as it was soothing to their hearts.

What, indeed, of blight, of baleful, could adhere to, could commix with the Lockes of Norbury Park? All that could be devised, rather than described, of virtue with hilarity, of imagination with wisdom,appeared there to make their stand. A mansion of classical elegance; a situation bright, varied, bewitching in picturesque attraction; a chief in whom every high quality under heaven seemed concentrated; a partner to that chief uniting the closest mental resemblance to the embellishment of the most captivating beauty; a progeny blithe, blooming, and intelligent, encircling them like grouping angels—exhibited, all together, a picture of happiness so sanctified by virtue; of talents so ennobled by character; of religion so always manifested by good works; that Norbury Park presented a scene of perfection that seemed passing reality! and even while viewed and enjoyed, to wear the air of a living vision of ideal felicity.

The first visit that Dr. Burney paid to this incomparable spot was in company with Sir Joshua Reynolds.

No place would be more worthy the painter’s eye, and painter’s mind of the knight of Plympton than this; and he entered into all the merits of the mansion, its dwellers, and its scenery, with a vivacity of approvance, as gratifying to his elegant host and hostess, as to himself were the objects of taste, fancy, and fine workmanship, with which he was encircled in that school, or assemblage of the fine arts,which seemed in Mr. Locke to exhibit a living Apollo at their head: while the delicacy, the feeling, the witching softness of his fair partner, expanded a genial cheerfulness that seemed to bloom around her wherever she looked or moved.

The conversation of Mr. Locke was a source inexhaustible of instruction, conveyed in language at once so sensitive and so pointed; with a tone, a manner, a look so impressively in harmony with every word that he uttered; that observations of a depth and a novelty that seemed to demand the most lengthened discussion, obtained immediate comprehension, if his hearer examined the penetration of his countenance while he listened to that of his voice.

His taste, alike in works of nature and of art, was profound in itself and illuminating to others: yet, from his habitual silence in mixt companies, the most strikingly amiable parts of his character could be developed only on his own domain, amidst his family, his friends, his neighbours, and the poor: where the refinement of his converse, and the melting humanity of his disposition, reflected genial lustre on each other.[75]

Here, too, the knight of Plympton made a leisurely survey of the extraordinary early sketches of the eldest son of the mansion’s Apollo; who, for boundless invention, exquisite taste, and masterly sketches of original execution, was gifted with a genius that mocked all contemporary rivalry.[76]

Dr. Burney himself, at home in all the arts, partook of this entertainment with his usual animated pleasure in excellence; while in all that accompanied it of literary or social description, he as often led as followed these distinguished conversers.

But the exhilaration of this almost heavenly sojourn—for such, to its guests, it had appeared—was succeeded by an alarm to the heart of Dr. Burney the most intense, perhaps, by which it could be attacked; an alarm deeply affecting his comforts, his wishes, and the happiness of his whole house,from a menace of consumption to his daughter Susanna, which demanded a rapid change of air, and forced a hasty and immediate trial of that of Boulogne sur Mer.

The motive, however, of the little voyage, with its hope, made Dr. Burney submit to it with his accustomed rational resignation; though severe, nearly lacerating, was every separation from that beloved child; and though suspense and fear hovered over him unremittingly during the whole of the ensuing winter.

Doubly, therefore, now, was felt the acquisition of the Lockes, the charm of whose intercourse was endowed with powers the most balsamic for alleviating, though it could not heal, the pain of this fearful wound, through their sympathizing knowledge of the virtues of the invalid; their appreciation of her sweetness of disposition, their taste for her society, their enjoyment of her talents, and their admiration of her conduct and character; of her patience in suffering, her fortitude in adversity; her mild submission to every inevitable evil, with her noble struggles against every calamity that firmness, vigour, or toil, might prevent, or might distance.They loved her as she merited to be loved! and almost as she loved them in return; for their souls were in unison of excellence.

But while the Lockes thus afforded a gentle and genial aid towards sustaining the illness and absence of Mrs. Phillips, it was not by superseding, but by blending in sweet harmony with the support afforded by Mrs. Delany: and if the narration given of that lady has, in any degree, drawn the reader to join in the admiration with which she inspired Dr. Burney, he will not be sorry to see a further account of her, taken again from the Diary addressed to Mrs. Phillips.

“To Mrs. Phillips.

“I have just passed a delicious day, my Susanna, with Mrs. Delany; the most pleasing I have spent with her yet. She entrusted to me her collection of letters from Dean Swift and Dr. Young; and told me all the anecdotes that occurred to her of both, and of her acquaintance with them. How grievous that her sight continues enfeebling! all herother senses, and all her faculties are perfect—though she thinks otherwise. ‘My friends,’ she said, ‘will last me, I believe, as long as I last, because they are very good; but the pleasure of our friendship is now all to be received by me! for I have lost the power of returning any!’

“If she spoke on any other subject such untruths, I should not revere her, as I now do, to my heart’s core. She had been in great affliction at the death of Lady Mansfield; for whom the Duchess Dowager of Portland had grieved, she said, yet more deeply: and they had shut themselves up together from all other company. ‘But to-day,’ she added, with a most soft smile, ‘her Grace could not come; and I felt I quite required a cordial,—so I sent to beg for Miss Burney.’

“‘I have been told,’ she afterwards said, ‘that when I grew older, I should feel less; but I do not find it so! I am sooner, I think, hurt and affected than ever. I suppose it is with very old age as with extreme youth, the effect of weakness; neither of those stages of life have firmness for bearing misfortune with equanimity.’

“She keeps her good looks, however, unimpaired, except in becoming thinner; and, when not under the pressure of recent grief, she is as lively, gay, pleasant, and good-humouredly arch and playful, as she could have been at eighteen.

“‘I see, indeed,’ she said, ‘worse and worse, but I am thankful that, at my age, eighty-four, I can see at all. My chief loss is from not more quickly discerning the changes of countenance in my friends. However, to distinguish even the light is a great blessing!’

“She had no company whatever, but her beautiful great niece.[77]The Duchess was confined to her home by a bad cold.

“She was so good as to shew me a most gracious letter from her Majesty, which she had just received, and which finished thus condescendingly:

“Believe me, my dear Mrs. Delany,

“Your affectionate Queen,

“CHARLOTTE.”

Fortunately, also, now, Dr. Burney increased the intimacy of his acquaintance with Mr. Smelt, formerly sub-governor to the Prince of Wales;[78]a man who, for displaying human excellence in the three essential points of Understanding, Character, and Conduct, stood upon the same line of acknowledged perfection with Mr. Locke of Norbury Park. And had that virtuous and anxious parent of his people, George III., known them both at the critical instant when he was seeking a model of a true fine gentleman, for the official situation of preceptor to the heir of his sovereignty; he might have had to cope with the most surprising of difficulties, that of seeing before his choice two men, in neither of whom he could espy a blemish that could cast a preference upon the other.

The worth of both these gentlemen was known upon proof: their talents, accomplishments, and taste in the arts and in literature, were singularly similar. Each was soft and winning of speech, butfirm and intrepid of conduct; and their manners, their refined high breeding, were unrivalled, save each by the other. And while the same, also, was their reputation for integrity and honour, as for learning and philosophy, the first personal delight of both was in the promotion and exercise of those gentle charities of human life, which teach us to solace and to aid our fellow-creatures.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, BOUVERIE STREET.

Footnotes.[1]By the second marriage.[2]Now the Honourable Mrs. Robinson.[3]The Doctor’s eldest daughter.[4]This early celebrated performer, now in the decline of life, after losing her health, and nearly out-living her friends, is reduced, not by faults but misfortunes, to a state of pecuniary difficulties, through which she must long since have sunk, but for the generous succour of some personages as high in benevolence as in rank.[5]Should this appeal awaken some new commiserators of talents and integrity, bowed down by years and distress, they will find, in a small apartment, No. 58, in Great Portland-street, a feeble, but most interesting person, who is truly deserving of every kind impulse she may excite.[5]She is assisted, occasionally, by many noble ladies; but the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe is her most active patron.[6]Pacchiorotti had not yet visited England.[7]Afterwards Lord Cardigan.[8]Afterwards Lord Malmsbury.[9]Afterwards Bishop of Durham.[10]Now Viscountess Keith.[11]See Correspondence.[12]This has reference wholly to Bolt Court, where he constantly retained his home: at Streatham, continually as he there resided, it was always as a guest.[13]Afterwards Mrs. Phillips.[14]The present Mrs. Broome.[15]Mrs. Burney, of Bath.[16]Now Viscountess Keith.[17]Afterwards Author of Biographiana.[18]His fifth daughter, Sarah Harriet, was then a child.[19]His nephew and heir, he sent over to London to be educated.[20]See Correspondence.[21]This was written in the year 1828.[22]The first volume of this work was nearly printed, when the Editor had the grief of hearing that Sir Walter Scott was no more. In the general sorrow that his loss has spread throughout the British Empire, she presumes not to speak of her own: but she cannot persuade herself to annul the little tribute, by which she had meant to demonstrate to him her sense of the vivacity with which he had sought out her dwelling; invited her to the hospitality of his daughters at Abbotsford; and courteously, nay, eagerly, offered to do the honours of Scotland to her himself, from that celebrated abode.In a subsequent visit with which he honoured and delighted her in the following year, she produced to him the scraps of documents and fragments which she had collected from ancient diaries and letters, in consequence of his inquiries. Pleased he looked; but told her that what already she had related, already—to use his own word—he had “noted;” adding, “And most particularly, I have not forgotten your mulberry tree!”This little history, however, was so appropriately his own, and was written so expressly with a view to its dedication, that still, with veneration—though with sadness instead of gladness—she leaves the brief exordium of her intended homage in its original state.—And the less reluctantly, as the companion of his kindness and his interrogatories will still—she hopes—accept, and not unwillingly, his own share in the small offering.[23]Edward Burney, Esq., of Clipstone-street.[24]See Correspondence.[25]Sir Walter Scott was then a child.[26]Now Viscountess Keith.[27]The Editor, at the date of this letter, knew not that the club to which Dr. Johnson alluded, was that which was denominated his own,—or The Literary Club.[28]Afterwards Lord Ashburton.[29]Afterwards Sir William Weller Pepys.[30]Afterwards Lord Sheffield.[31]Now Mrs. Alison, of Edinburgh.[32]Translator of Tacitus.[33]Dr. Johnson told this to the Editor.[34]Dr. Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women.[35]This was so strongly observed by Mrs. Maling, mother to the Dowager Countess of Mulgrave, that she has often exclaimed to this Memorialist, “Why did not Sir Joshua Reynolds paint Dr. Johnson when he was speaking to Dr. Burney or to you?”[36]Dr. Lawrence, Sir Richard Jebb, Dr. Warren, Sir Lucas Pepys.[37]By the Countess of Tankerville.[38]Afterwards George the Fourth.[39]Cecilia.[40]Miss Susanna Burney, afterwards Mrs. Phillips.[41]Miss Palmer.[42]Now Marquis of Stafford.[43]Now Viscountess Keith.[44]Afterward Marquis of Lansdowne, who first rented Mrs. Thrale’s house at Streatham.[45]Sir William Weller Pepys, when he was eighty-four years of age, told this Memorialist that he was the only male member then remaining of the original set; and that Mrs. Hannah More was the only remaining female.[46]This only treats of the Blue Meetings; not of the general assemblies of Montagu House, which were conducted like all others in the circles of high life.[47]Every May-day, Mrs. Montagu gave an annual breakfast in the front of her new mansion, of roast beef and plum pudding, to all the chimney sweepers of the Metropolis.[48]It was here, at Mrs. Montagu’s, that Doctor Burney had the happiness to see open to this Memorialist an acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Locke, which led, almost magically, to an intercourse that formed,—and still forms, one of the first felicities of her life.[49]Now Countess of Cork.[50]The present Memorialist surprised him, one day, so palpably employed in such an investigation, that, seeing her startled, he looked almost ashamed; but, frankly laughing at the silent detection, he cried: “When do you come to sit to me? I am quite ready!” making a motion with his hand as if advancing it with a pencil to a canvass: “All prepared!” intimating that he had settled in his thoughts the disposition of her portrait.[51]The means for charitable contributions upon so liberal a scale as those of Sir W. W. Pepys, may, perhaps, be deduced, by analogy, from his wise and rare spirit of calculation: how to live with the Greater and the Richer, and yet escape either the risk of ruin, or the charge of meanness. “When I think it right,” said he, in a visit which he made to this Memorialist, after walking, and alone, at eighty-five, from Gloucester-place to Bolton-street, about three weeks before his death, “When I think it right, whether for the good of my excellent children, or for my own pleasure,—or for my little personal dignity, to invite some wealthy Noble to dine with me, I make it a point not to starve my family, or my poor pensioners, for a year afterwards, by emulating his lordship’s, or his grace’s, table-fare. I give, therefore, but a few dishes, and two small courses; all my care is, that every thing shall be well served, and the best of its kind. And when we sit down, I frankly tell them my plan; upon which my guests, more flattered by that implied acknowledgment of their superior rank and rent-roll, than they could possibly be by any attempt at emulation; and happy to find that they shall make no breach in my domestic economy and comfort, immediately fall to, with an appetite that would surprise you! and that gives me the greatest gratification. I do not suppose that they anywhere make a more hearty meal.”[52]Mr. Cambridge was a potent contributor to the periodical paper called The World; for which Mr. Jenyns, also, occasionally wrote.[53]Swift’s Long-Eared Letter.[54]Now Mrs. Alison, of Edinburgh.[55]Daughter of John Granville, Esq., and niece of Pope’s Granville, the then Lord Lansdowne, “of every Muse the Friend.”[56]See Sir Walter Scott’s Life of Swift.[57]This invaluableuniquework has lately been purchased by —— Hall, Esq.; a son-in-law of Mrs. Delany’s favourite niece, Mrs. Waddington.[58]Since Lord Rokeby.[59]Mrs. Montagu.[60]Now Mrs. Agnew, the amanuensis and attendant of Mrs. Delany.[61]Miss Larolles, now, would say eleven or twelve.[62]Mrs. Burney, of Bath.[63]Charlotte, now Mrs. Broome; the youngestdaughter, Sarah Harriet, was still a child.[64]See Correspondence.[65]M. Berquin, some years later, was nominated preceptor to the unfortunate Louis XVII., but was soon dismissed by the inhuman monsters who possessed themselves of the person of that crownless orphan King.[66]See Correspondence.[67]Now Madame Adelaide, sister to Louis Philippe.[68]Madame de Genlis, in her Memoirs, mentions this appointment in terms of less dignity.[69]Thismaladie du payshas pursued and annoyed her through life; except when incidentally surprised away by peculiar persons, or circumstances.[70]“Mr. Bewley, for more than twenty years, supplied the editor of the Monthly Review with an examination of innumerable works in science, and articles of foreign literature, written with a force, spirit, candour, and, when the subject afforded opportunity, humour, not often found in critical discussions.”[71]Now Mrs. Broome.[72]This bore reference to an expression of Dr. Johnson’s, upon hearing that Mrs. Montagu resented his Life of Lord Lyttleton.The Diary Letter to Susannah, whence these two billets are copied, finishes with this paragraph.“Our dear father, as eager as myself that our most reverenced Dr. Johnson should not be hurt or offended, spared me the coach, and to Bolt Court I went in the evening: and with outspread arms of parental greeting to mark my welcome, was I received. Nobody was there but our brother Charles and Mr. Sastres: and Dr. Johnson, repeatedly thanking me for coming, was, if possible, more instructive, entertaining, and exquisitely fertile than ever; and so full of amenity, and talked so affectionately of our father, that neither Charles nor I could tell how to come away. While he, in return, soothed by exercising his noble faculties with natural, unexcited good-humour and pleasantry, would have kept us, I believe, to this moment—“You have no objection, I think, my Susan, to a small touch of hyperbole?——if the coachman and the horses had been as well entertained as ourselves.”[73]By Edward Burney, Esq., of Clipstone-street.[74]Hester Lynch Salusbury, Mrs. Thrale, was lineally descended from Adam of Saltsburg, who came over to England with the Conqueror.[75]The late Sir Thomas Lawrence, in speaking of Norbury Park to this editor, while he was painting his matchless picture of Mrs. Locke, senior, in 1826, said “I have seen much of the world since I was first admitted to Norbury Park,—but I have never seen another Mr. Locke!”[76]This, also, was the opinion of Sir Thomas Lawrence.[77]Miss Port, now Mrs. Waddington of Llanover House.[78]Afterwards George IV.

Footnotes.

[1]By the second marriage.

[2]Now the Honourable Mrs. Robinson.

[3]The Doctor’s eldest daughter.

[4]This early celebrated performer, now in the decline of life, after losing her health, and nearly out-living her friends, is reduced, not by faults but misfortunes, to a state of pecuniary difficulties, through which she must long since have sunk, but for the generous succour of some personages as high in benevolence as in rank.[5]Should this appeal awaken some new commiserators of talents and integrity, bowed down by years and distress, they will find, in a small apartment, No. 58, in Great Portland-street, a feeble, but most interesting person, who is truly deserving of every kind impulse she may excite.

[5]She is assisted, occasionally, by many noble ladies; but the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe is her most active patron.

[6]Pacchiorotti had not yet visited England.

[7]Afterwards Lord Cardigan.

[8]Afterwards Lord Malmsbury.

[9]Afterwards Bishop of Durham.

[10]Now Viscountess Keith.

[11]See Correspondence.

[12]This has reference wholly to Bolt Court, where he constantly retained his home: at Streatham, continually as he there resided, it was always as a guest.

[13]Afterwards Mrs. Phillips.

[14]The present Mrs. Broome.

[15]Mrs. Burney, of Bath.

[16]Now Viscountess Keith.

[17]Afterwards Author of Biographiana.

[18]His fifth daughter, Sarah Harriet, was then a child.

[19]His nephew and heir, he sent over to London to be educated.

[20]See Correspondence.

[21]This was written in the year 1828.

[22]The first volume of this work was nearly printed, when the Editor had the grief of hearing that Sir Walter Scott was no more. In the general sorrow that his loss has spread throughout the British Empire, she presumes not to speak of her own: but she cannot persuade herself to annul the little tribute, by which she had meant to demonstrate to him her sense of the vivacity with which he had sought out her dwelling; invited her to the hospitality of his daughters at Abbotsford; and courteously, nay, eagerly, offered to do the honours of Scotland to her himself, from that celebrated abode.In a subsequent visit with which he honoured and delighted her in the following year, she produced to him the scraps of documents and fragments which she had collected from ancient diaries and letters, in consequence of his inquiries. Pleased he looked; but told her that what already she had related, already—to use his own word—he had “noted;” adding, “And most particularly, I have not forgotten your mulberry tree!”This little history, however, was so appropriately his own, and was written so expressly with a view to its dedication, that still, with veneration—though with sadness instead of gladness—she leaves the brief exordium of her intended homage in its original state.—And the less reluctantly, as the companion of his kindness and his interrogatories will still—she hopes—accept, and not unwillingly, his own share in the small offering.

In a subsequent visit with which he honoured and delighted her in the following year, she produced to him the scraps of documents and fragments which she had collected from ancient diaries and letters, in consequence of his inquiries. Pleased he looked; but told her that what already she had related, already—to use his own word—he had “noted;” adding, “And most particularly, I have not forgotten your mulberry tree!”

This little history, however, was so appropriately his own, and was written so expressly with a view to its dedication, that still, with veneration—though with sadness instead of gladness—she leaves the brief exordium of her intended homage in its original state.—And the less reluctantly, as the companion of his kindness and his interrogatories will still—she hopes—accept, and not unwillingly, his own share in the small offering.

[23]Edward Burney, Esq., of Clipstone-street.

[24]See Correspondence.

[25]Sir Walter Scott was then a child.

[26]Now Viscountess Keith.

[27]The Editor, at the date of this letter, knew not that the club to which Dr. Johnson alluded, was that which was denominated his own,—or The Literary Club.

[28]Afterwards Lord Ashburton.

[29]Afterwards Sir William Weller Pepys.

[30]Afterwards Lord Sheffield.

[31]Now Mrs. Alison, of Edinburgh.

[32]Translator of Tacitus.

[33]Dr. Johnson told this to the Editor.

[34]Dr. Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women.

[35]This was so strongly observed by Mrs. Maling, mother to the Dowager Countess of Mulgrave, that she has often exclaimed to this Memorialist, “Why did not Sir Joshua Reynolds paint Dr. Johnson when he was speaking to Dr. Burney or to you?”

[36]Dr. Lawrence, Sir Richard Jebb, Dr. Warren, Sir Lucas Pepys.

[37]By the Countess of Tankerville.

[38]Afterwards George the Fourth.

[39]Cecilia.

[40]Miss Susanna Burney, afterwards Mrs. Phillips.

[41]Miss Palmer.

[42]Now Marquis of Stafford.

[43]Now Viscountess Keith.

[44]Afterward Marquis of Lansdowne, who first rented Mrs. Thrale’s house at Streatham.

[45]Sir William Weller Pepys, when he was eighty-four years of age, told this Memorialist that he was the only male member then remaining of the original set; and that Mrs. Hannah More was the only remaining female.

[46]This only treats of the Blue Meetings; not of the general assemblies of Montagu House, which were conducted like all others in the circles of high life.

[47]Every May-day, Mrs. Montagu gave an annual breakfast in the front of her new mansion, of roast beef and plum pudding, to all the chimney sweepers of the Metropolis.

[48]It was here, at Mrs. Montagu’s, that Doctor Burney had the happiness to see open to this Memorialist an acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Locke, which led, almost magically, to an intercourse that formed,—and still forms, one of the first felicities of her life.

[49]Now Countess of Cork.

[50]The present Memorialist surprised him, one day, so palpably employed in such an investigation, that, seeing her startled, he looked almost ashamed; but, frankly laughing at the silent detection, he cried: “When do you come to sit to me? I am quite ready!” making a motion with his hand as if advancing it with a pencil to a canvass: “All prepared!” intimating that he had settled in his thoughts the disposition of her portrait.

[51]The means for charitable contributions upon so liberal a scale as those of Sir W. W. Pepys, may, perhaps, be deduced, by analogy, from his wise and rare spirit of calculation: how to live with the Greater and the Richer, and yet escape either the risk of ruin, or the charge of meanness. “When I think it right,” said he, in a visit which he made to this Memorialist, after walking, and alone, at eighty-five, from Gloucester-place to Bolton-street, about three weeks before his death, “When I think it right, whether for the good of my excellent children, or for my own pleasure,—or for my little personal dignity, to invite some wealthy Noble to dine with me, I make it a point not to starve my family, or my poor pensioners, for a year afterwards, by emulating his lordship’s, or his grace’s, table-fare. I give, therefore, but a few dishes, and two small courses; all my care is, that every thing shall be well served, and the best of its kind. And when we sit down, I frankly tell them my plan; upon which my guests, more flattered by that implied acknowledgment of their superior rank and rent-roll, than they could possibly be by any attempt at emulation; and happy to find that they shall make no breach in my domestic economy and comfort, immediately fall to, with an appetite that would surprise you! and that gives me the greatest gratification. I do not suppose that they anywhere make a more hearty meal.”

[52]Mr. Cambridge was a potent contributor to the periodical paper called The World; for which Mr. Jenyns, also, occasionally wrote.

[53]Swift’s Long-Eared Letter.

[54]Now Mrs. Alison, of Edinburgh.

[55]Daughter of John Granville, Esq., and niece of Pope’s Granville, the then Lord Lansdowne, “of every Muse the Friend.”

[56]See Sir Walter Scott’s Life of Swift.

[57]This invaluableuniquework has lately been purchased by —— Hall, Esq.; a son-in-law of Mrs. Delany’s favourite niece, Mrs. Waddington.

[58]Since Lord Rokeby.

[59]Mrs. Montagu.

[60]Now Mrs. Agnew, the amanuensis and attendant of Mrs. Delany.

[61]Miss Larolles, now, would say eleven or twelve.

[62]Mrs. Burney, of Bath.

[63]Charlotte, now Mrs. Broome; the youngestdaughter, Sarah Harriet, was still a child.

[64]See Correspondence.

[65]M. Berquin, some years later, was nominated preceptor to the unfortunate Louis XVII., but was soon dismissed by the inhuman monsters who possessed themselves of the person of that crownless orphan King.

[66]See Correspondence.

[67]Now Madame Adelaide, sister to Louis Philippe.

[68]Madame de Genlis, in her Memoirs, mentions this appointment in terms of less dignity.

[69]Thismaladie du payshas pursued and annoyed her through life; except when incidentally surprised away by peculiar persons, or circumstances.

[70]“Mr. Bewley, for more than twenty years, supplied the editor of the Monthly Review with an examination of innumerable works in science, and articles of foreign literature, written with a force, spirit, candour, and, when the subject afforded opportunity, humour, not often found in critical discussions.”

[71]Now Mrs. Broome.

[72]This bore reference to an expression of Dr. Johnson’s, upon hearing that Mrs. Montagu resented his Life of Lord Lyttleton.The Diary Letter to Susannah, whence these two billets are copied, finishes with this paragraph.“Our dear father, as eager as myself that our most reverenced Dr. Johnson should not be hurt or offended, spared me the coach, and to Bolt Court I went in the evening: and with outspread arms of parental greeting to mark my welcome, was I received. Nobody was there but our brother Charles and Mr. Sastres: and Dr. Johnson, repeatedly thanking me for coming, was, if possible, more instructive, entertaining, and exquisitely fertile than ever; and so full of amenity, and talked so affectionately of our father, that neither Charles nor I could tell how to come away. While he, in return, soothed by exercising his noble faculties with natural, unexcited good-humour and pleasantry, would have kept us, I believe, to this moment—“You have no objection, I think, my Susan, to a small touch of hyperbole?——if the coachman and the horses had been as well entertained as ourselves.”

[72]This bore reference to an expression of Dr. Johnson’s, upon hearing that Mrs. Montagu resented his Life of Lord Lyttleton.

The Diary Letter to Susannah, whence these two billets are copied, finishes with this paragraph.

“Our dear father, as eager as myself that our most reverenced Dr. Johnson should not be hurt or offended, spared me the coach, and to Bolt Court I went in the evening: and with outspread arms of parental greeting to mark my welcome, was I received. Nobody was there but our brother Charles and Mr. Sastres: and Dr. Johnson, repeatedly thanking me for coming, was, if possible, more instructive, entertaining, and exquisitely fertile than ever; and so full of amenity, and talked so affectionately of our father, that neither Charles nor I could tell how to come away. While he, in return, soothed by exercising his noble faculties with natural, unexcited good-humour and pleasantry, would have kept us, I believe, to this moment—

“You have no objection, I think, my Susan, to a small touch of hyperbole?——

if the coachman and the horses had been as well entertained as ourselves.”

[73]By Edward Burney, Esq., of Clipstone-street.

[74]Hester Lynch Salusbury, Mrs. Thrale, was lineally descended from Adam of Saltsburg, who came over to England with the Conqueror.

[75]The late Sir Thomas Lawrence, in speaking of Norbury Park to this editor, while he was painting his matchless picture of Mrs. Locke, senior, in 1826, said “I have seen much of the world since I was first admitted to Norbury Park,—but I have never seen another Mr. Locke!”

[76]This, also, was the opinion of Sir Thomas Lawrence.

[77]Miss Port, now Mrs. Waddington of Llanover House.

[78]Afterwards George IV.

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