Dr. Johnson.Mr. Burke.Dr. Goldsmith.Mr. Murphy.Mr. Garrick.Mr. Baretti.Sir Robert Chambers, and Sir Joshua Reynolds himself.
Sir Robert Chambers, and Sir Joshua Reynolds himself.
All painted in the highest style of the great master, who much delighted in this his Streatham gallery.
There was place left but for one more frame, when the acquaintance with Dr. Burney began at Streatham; and the charm of his conversation and manners, joined to his celebrity in letters, so quickly won upon the master as well as the mistress of the mansion, that he was presently selected for the honour of filling up this last chasm in the chain of Streatham worthies. To this flattering distinction, which Dr. Burney always recognized with pleasure, the public owe the engraving of Bartolozzi, which is prefixed to the History of Music.
The friendship and kindness of heart of Dr. Johnson, were promptly brought into play by this renewed intercourse. Richard, the youngest son of Dr. Burney, born of the second marriage, was then preparing for Winchester School, whither his father purposed conveying him in person. This design was no sooner known at Streatham, where Richard, at that time a beautiful as well as clever boy, was ingreat favour with Mrs. Thrale, than Dr. Johnson volunteered an offer to accompany the father to Winchester; that he might himself present the son to Dr. Warton, the then celebrated master of that ancient receptacle for the study of youth.
Dr. Burney, enchanted by such a mark of regard, gratefully accepted the proposal; and they set out together for Winchester, where Dr. Warton expected them with ardent hospitality. The acquaintance of Dr. Burney he had already sought with literary liberality, having kindly given him notice, through the medium of Mr. Garrick,[11]of a manuscript treatise on music in the Winchester collection. There was, consequently, already an opening to pleasure in their meeting: but the master’s reception of Dr. Johnson, from the high-wrought sense of the honour of such a visit, was rather rapturous than glad. Dr. Warton was always called an enthusiast by Dr. Johnson, who, at times, when in gay spirits, and with those with whom he trusted their ebullition, would take off Dr. Warton with the strongest humour; describing, almost convulsively, the ecstacy with which he would seize upon the person nearestto him, to hug in his arms, lest his grasp should be eluded, while he displayed some picture, or some prospect; and indicated, in the midst of contortions and gestures that violently and ludicrously shook, if they did not affright his captive, the particular point of view, or of design, that he wished should be noticed.
This Winchester visit, besides the permanent impression made by its benevolence, considerably quickened the march of intimacy of Dr. Burney with the great lexicographer, by thetête à têtejournies to and from Winchester; in which there was not only the ease of companionability, to dissipate the modest awe of intellectual super-eminence, but also the certitude of not being obtrusive; since, thus coupled in a post-chaise, Dr. Johnson had no choice of occupation, and no one else to whom to turn.
Far, however, from Dr. Johnson, upon this occasion, was any desire of change, or any requisition for variety. The spirit of Dr. Burney, with his liveliness of communication, drew out the mighty stores which Dr. Johnson had amassed upon nearly every subject, with an amenity that brought forth his genius in its very essence, cleared from all turbiddregs of heated irritability; and Dr. Burney never looked back to this Winchester tour but with recollected pleasure.
Nor was this the sole exertion in favour of Dr. Burney, of this admirable friend. He wrote various letters to his own former associates, and to his newer connexions at Oxford, recommending to them to facilitate, with their best power, the researches of the musical historian. And, some time afterwards, he again took a seat in the chaise of Dr. Burney, and accompanied him in person to that university; where every head of college, professor, and even general member, vied one with another in coupling, in every mark of civility, their rising approbation of Dr. Burney, with their established reverence for Dr. Johnson.
Most willingly, indeed, would this great and excellent man have made, had he seen occasion, far superior efforts in favour of Dr. Burney; an excursion almost any where being, in fact, so agreeable to his taste, as to be always rather a pleasure to him than a fatigue.
His vast abilities, in truth, were too copious for the small scenes, objects, and interests of the littleworld in which he lived;[12]and frequently must he have felt both curbed and damped by the utter insufficiency of such minor scenes, objects, and interests, to occupy powers such as his of conception and investigation. To avow this he was far too wise, lest it should seem a scorn of his fellow-creatures; and, indeed, from his internal humility, it is possible that he was not himself aware of the great chasm that separated him from the herd of mankind, when not held to it by the ties of benevolence or of necessity.
To talk of humility and Dr. Johnson together, may, perhaps, make the few who remember him smile, and the many who have only heard of him stare. But his humility was not that of thinking more lowlily of himself than of others; it was simply that of thinking so lowlily of others, as to hold his own conscious superiority of but small scale in the balance of intrinsic excellence.
After these excursions, the intercourse of Dr. Burney with Streatham became so friendly, thatMrs. Thrale desired to make acquaintance with the Doctor’s family; and Dr. Johnson, at the same time, requested to examine the Doctor’s books; while both wished to see the house of Sir Isaac Newton.
An account of this beginning connection with St. Martin’s-Street was drawn up by the present Editor, at the earnest desire of the revered Chesington family-friend, Mr. Crisp; whom she had just, and most reluctantly, quitted a day or two before this first visit from Streatham took place.
This little narration she now consigns to these memoirs, as naturally belonging to the progress of the friendship of Dr. Burney with Dr. Johnson; and not without hope that this genuine detail of the first appearance of Dr. Johnson in St. Martin’s-Street, may afford to the reader some share of the entertainment which it afforded to the then young writer.
“To Samuel Crisp, Esq.
“Chesington, near Kingston, Surrey.
“My dearest Mr. Crisp.
“My Father seemed well pleased at my returning to my time; so that is no small consolation and pleasure to me for the pain of quitting you. So now to our Thursday morning, and Dr. Johnson; according to my promise.
“We were all—by we, I mean Suzette,[13]Charlotte,[14]and I,—for my mother had seen him before, as had my sister Burney;[15]but we three were all in a twitter, from violent expectation and curiosity for the sight of this monarch of books and authors.
“Mrs. and Miss Thrale,[16]Miss Owen, and Mr. Seward,[17]came long before Lexiphanes. Mrs. Thrale is a pretty woman still, though she has some defect in the mouth that looks like a cut, or scar; but her nose is very handsome, her complexion very fair; she has theembonpoint charmant, and her eyes are blue and lustrous. She is extremely lively and chatty; and shewed none of the supercilious or pedantic airs, so freely, or, rather, so scoffingly attributed, by you envious lords of the creation, to women of learning or celebrity; on the contrary, she is full of sport, remarkably gay, and excessively agreeable. I likedher in every thing except her entrance into the room, which was rather florid and flourishing, as who should say, ‘It’s I!—No less a person than Mrs. Thrale!’ However, all that ostentation wore out in the course of the visit, which lasted the whole morning; and you could not have helped liking her, she is so very entertaining—though not simple enough, I believe, for quite winning your heart.
“Miss Thrale seems just verging on her teens. She is certainly handsome, and her beauty is of a peculiar sort; fair, round, firm, and cherubimical; with its chief charm exactly where lies the mother’s failure—namely, in the mouth. She is reckoned cold and proud; but I believe her to be merely shy and reserved; you, however, would have liked her, and called her a girl of fashion; for she was very silent, but very observant; and never looked tired, though she never uttered a syllable.
“Miss Owen, who is a relation of Mrs. Thrale’s, is good-humoured and sensible enough. She is a sort of butt, and as such is a general favourite; though she is a willing, and not a mean butt; for she is a woman of family and fortune. But those sort of characters are prodigiously popular, fromtheir facility of giving liberty of speech to the wit and pleasantry of others, without risking for themselves any return of the ‘retort courteous.’
“Mr. Seward, who seems to be quite at home among them, appears to be a penetrating, polite, and agreeable young man. Mrs. Thrale says of him, that he does good to every body, but speaks well of nobody.
“The conversation was supported with a great deal of vivacity, as usual when il Signor Padrone is at home; but I can write you none of it, as I was still in the same twitter, twitter, twitter, I have acknowledged, to see Dr. Johnson. Nothing could have heightened my impatience—unless Pope could have been brought to life again—or, perhaps, Shakespeare!
“This confab. was broken up by a duet between your Hettina and, for the first time to company-listeners, Suzette; who, however, escaped much fright, for she soon found she had no musical critics to encounter in Mrs. Thrale and Mr. Seward, or Miss Owen; who know not a flat from a sharp, nor a crotchet from a quaver. But every knowledge is not given to every body—except to two gentle wights of my acquaintance; the one commonly hightil Padre, and the other il Dadda. Do you know any such sort of people, Sir?
“Well, in the midst of this performance, and before the second movement was come to a close,—Dr. Johnson was announced!
“Now, my dear Mr. Crisp, if you like a description of emotions and sensations—but I know you treat them all as burlesque—so let’s proceed.
“Every body rose to do him honour; and he returned the attention with the most formal courtesie. My father then, having welcomed him with the warmest respect, whispered to him that music was going forward; which he would not, my father thinks, have found out; and placing him on the best seat vacant, told his daughters to go on with the duet; while Dr. Johnson, intently rolling towards them one eye—for they say he does not see with the other—made a grave nod, and gave a dignified motion with one hand, in silent approvance of the proceeding.
“But now, my dear Mr. Crisp, I am mortified to own, what you, who always smile at my enthusiasm, will hear without caring a straw for—that he is, indeed, very ill-favoured! Yet he has naturally a noble figure; tall, stout, grand, and authoritative:but he stoops horribly; his back is quite round: his mouth is continually opening and shutting, as if he were chewing something; he has a singular method of twirling his fingers, and twisting his hands: his vast body is in constant agitation, see-sawing backwards and forwards: his feet are never a moment quiet; and his whole great person looked often as if it were going to roll itself, quite voluntarily, from his chair to the floor.
“Since such is his appearance to a person so prejudiced in his favour as I am, how I must more than ever reverence his abilities, when I tell you that, upon asking my father why he had not prepared us for such uncouth, untoward strangeness, he laughed heartily, and said he had entirely forgotten that the same impression had been, at first, made upon himself; but had been lost even on the second interview——
“How I long to see him again, to lose it, too!—for, knowing the value of what would come out when he spoke, he ceased to observe the defects that were out while he was silent.
“But you always charge me to write without reserve or reservation, and so I obey as usual. Else,I should be ashamed to acknowledge having remarked such exterior blemishes in so exalted a character.
“His dress, considering the times, and that he had meant to put on all hisbest becomes, for he was engaged to dine with a very fine party at Mrs. Montagu’s, was as much out of the common road as his figure. He had a large, full, bushy wig, a snuff-colour coat, with gold buttons, (or, peradventure, brass,) but no ruffles to his doughty fists; and not, I suppose, to be taken for a Blue, though going to the Blue Queen, he had on very coarse black worsted stockings.
“He is shockingly near-sighted; a thousand times more so than either my Padre or myself. He did not even know Mrs. Thrale, till she held out her hand to him; which she did very engagingly. After the first few minutes, he drew his chair close to the piano-forte, and then bent down his nose quite over the keys, to examine them, and the four hands at work upon them; till poor Hetty and Susan hardly knew how to play on, for fear of touching his phiz; or, which was harder still, how to keep their countenances; and the less, as Mr. Seward, who seems tobe very droll and shrewd, and was much diverted, ogled them slyly, with a provoking expression of arch enjoyment of their apprehensions.
“When the duet was finished, my father introduced your Hettina to him, as an old acquaintance, to whom, when she was a little girl, he had presented his Idler.
“His answer to this was imprinting on her pretty face—not a half touch of a courtly salute—but a good, real, substantial, and very loud kiss.
“Every body was obliged to stroke their chins, that they might hide their mouths.
“Beyond this chaste embrace, his attention was not to be drawn off two minutes longer from the books, to which he now strided his way; for we had left the drawing-room for the library, on account of the piano-forte. He pored over them, shelf by shelf, almost brushing them with his eye-lashes from near examination. At last, fixing upon something that happened to hit his fancy, he took it down, and, standing aloof from the company, which he seemed clean and clear to forget, he began, without further ceremony, and very composedly, to read to himself; and as intently as if he had been alone in his own study.
“We were all excessively provoked: for we werelanguishing, fretting, expiring to hear him talk—not to see him read!—what could that do for us?
“My sister then played another duet, accompanied by my father, to which Miss Thrale seemed very attentive; and all the rest quietly resigned. But Dr. Johnson had opened a volume of the British Encyclopedia, and was so deeply engaged, that the music, probably, never reached his ears.
“When it was over, Mrs. Thrale, in a laughing manner, said: ‘Pray, Dr. Burney, will you be so good as to tell me what that song was, and whose, which Savoi sung last night at Bach’s concert, and which you did not hear?’
“My father confessed himself by no means so able a diviner, not having had time to consult the stars, though he lived in the house of Sir Isaac Newton. But anxious to draw Dr. Johnson into conversation, he ventured to interrupt him with Mrs. Thrale’s conjuring request relative to Bach’s concert.
“The Doctor, comprehending his drift, good-naturedly put away his book, and, see-sawing, with a very humorous smile, drolly repeated, ‘Bach, sir?—Bach’s concert?—And pray, sir, who is Bach?—Is he a piper?’
“You may imagine what exclamations followed such a question.
“Mrs. Thrale gave a detailed account of the nature of the concert, and the fame of Mr. Bach; and the many charming performances she had heard, with all their varieties, in his rooms.
“When there was a pause, ‘Pray, madam,’ said he, with the calmest gravity, ‘what is the expence for all this?’
“‘O,’ answered she, ‘the expence is—much trouble and solicitation to obtain a subscriber’s ticket—or else, half a guinea.’
“‘Trouble and solicitation,’ he replied, ‘I will have nothing to do with!—but, if it be so fine,—I would be willing to give,’—he hesitated, and then finished with—‘eighteen pence.’
“Ha! ha!—Chocolate being then brought, we returned to the drawing-room; and Dr. Johnson, when drawn away from the books, freely, and with social good-humour, gave himself up to conversation.
“The intended dinner of Mrs. Montagu being mentioned, Dr. Johnson laughingly told us that he had received the most flattering note that he had ever read, or that any body else had ever read, of invitation from that lady.
“‘So have I, too,’ cried Mrs. Thrale. ‘So, if a note from Mrs. Montagu is to be boasted of, I beg mine may not be forgotten.’
“‘Your note, madam,’ cried Dr. Johnson, smiling, ‘can bear no comparison with mine; for I am at the head of all the philosophers—she says.’
“‘And I,’ returned Mrs. Thrale, ‘have all the Muses in my train.’
“‘A fair battle!’ cried my father; ‘come! compliment for compliment; and see who will hold out longest.’
“‘I am afraid for Mrs. Thrale,’ said Mr. Seward; ‘for I know that Mrs. Montagu exerts all her forces, when she sings the praises of Dr. Johnson.’
“‘O yes!’ cried Mrs. Thrale, ‘she has often praised him till he has been ready to faint.’
“‘Well,’ said my father, ‘you two ladies must get him fairly between you to-day, and see which can lay on the paint the thickest, Mrs. Montagu or Mrs. Thrale.’
“‘I had rather,’ said the Doctor, very composedly, ‘go to Bach’s concert!’
“Ha! ha! What a compliment to all three!
“After this, they talked of Mr. Garrick, and his late exhibition before the King; to whom, and to the Queen and Royal Family, he has been reading Lethe in character;c’est à dire, in different voices, and theatrically.
“Mr. Seward gave an amusing account of a fablewhich Mr. Garrick had written by way of prologue, or introduction, upon this occasion. In this he says, that a blackbird, grown old and feeble, droops his wings, &c. &c., and gives up singing; but, upon being called upon by the eagle, his voice recovers its powers, his spirits revive, he sets age at defiance, and sings better than ever.
“‘There is not,’ said Dr. Johnson, again beginning to see-saw, ‘much of the spirit of fabulosity in this fable; for the call of an eagle never yet had much tendency to restore the warbling of a blackbird! ‘Tis true, the fabulists frequently make the wolves converse with the lambs; but then, when the conversation is over, the lambs are always devoured! And, in that manner, the eagle, to be sure, may entertain the blackbird—but the entertainment always ends in a feast for the eagle.’
“‘They say,’ cried Mrs. Thrale, ‘that Garrick was extremely hurt by the coldness of the King’s applause; and that he did not find his reception such as he had expected.’
“‘He has been so long accustomed,’ said Mr. Seward, ‘to the thundering acclamation of a theatre, that mere calm approbation must necessarily be insipid, nay, dispiriting to him.’
“‘Sir,’ said Dr. Johnson, ‘he has no right, in a royal apartment, to expect the hallooing and clamour of the one-shilling gallery. The King, I doubt not, gave him as much applause as was rationally his due. And, indeed, great and uncommon as is the merit of Mr. Garrick, no man will be bold enough to assert that he has not had his just proportion both of fame and profit. He has long reigned the unequalled favourite of the public; and therefore nobody, we may venture to say, will mourn his hard lot, if the King and the Royal Family were not transported into rapture upon hearing him read Lethe! But yet, Mr. Garrick will complain to his friends; and his friends will lament the King’s want of feeling and taste. But then—Mr. Garrick will kindly excuse the King. He will say that his Majesty—might, perhaps, be thinking of something else!—That the affairs of America might, possibly, occur to him—or some other subject of state, more important—perhaps—than Lethe. But though he will candidly say this himself,—he will not easily forgive his friends if they do not contradict him!’
“But now, that I have written you this satire of our immortal Roscius, it is but just, both to Mr. Garrick and to Dr. Johnson, that I should writeto you what was said afterwards, when, with equal humour and candour, Mr. Garrick’s general character was discriminated by Dr. Johnson.
“‘Garrick,’ he said, ‘is accused of vanity; but few men would have borne such unremitting prosperity with greater, if with equal, moderation. He is accused, too, of avarice, though he lives rather like a prince than an actor. But the frugality he practised when he first appeared in the world, has put a stamp upon his character ever since. And now, though his table, his equipage, and his establishment, are equal to those of persons of the most splendid rank, the original stain of avarice still blots his name! And yet, had not his early, and perhaps necessary economy, fixed upon him the charge of thrift, he would long since have been reproached with that of luxury.’
“Another time he said of him, ‘Garrick never enters a room, but he regards himself as the object of general attention, from whom the entertainment of the company is expected. And true it is, that he seldom disappoints that expectation: for he has infinite humour, a very just proportion of wit, and more convivial pleasantry than almost any man living. But then, off as well as on the stage—he is always an actor! for he holds it so incumbent upon him to be sportive, that his gaiety, from being habitual, is become mechanical: and he can exert his spirits at all times alike, without any consultation of his disposition to hilarity.’
“I can recollect nothing more, my dear Mr. Crisp. So I beg your benediction, and bid you adieu.”
The accession of the musical historian to the Streatham coterie, was nearly as desirable to Dr. Johnson himself, as it could be to its new member; and, with reciprocated vivacity in seeking the society of each other, they went thither, and returned thence to their homes, intête à têtejunctions, by every opportunity.
In his chronological doggrel list of his friends and his feats, Dr. Burney has inserted the following lines upon the Streatham connexion.
“1776.
“This year I acquaintance began with the Thrales,Where I met with great talents ’mongst females and males:But the best thing that happen’d from that time to this,Was the freedom it gave me to sound the abyss,At my ease and my leisure, of Johnson’s great mind,Where new treasures unnumber’d I constantly find.Huge Briareus’s head, if old bards have not blunder’d,Amounted in all to the sum of one hundred;And Johnson,—so wide his intelligence spreads,Has the brains of—at least—the same number of heads.”
“This year I acquaintance began with the Thrales,Where I met with great talents ’mongst females and males:But the best thing that happen’d from that time to this,Was the freedom it gave me to sound the abyss,At my ease and my leisure, of Johnson’s great mind,Where new treasures unnumber’d I constantly find.Huge Briareus’s head, if old bards have not blunder’d,Amounted in all to the sum of one hundred;And Johnson,—so wide his intelligence spreads,Has the brains of—at least—the same number of heads.”
“This year I acquaintance began with the Thrales,Where I met with great talents ’mongst females and males:But the best thing that happen’d from that time to this,Was the freedom it gave me to sound the abyss,At my ease and my leisure, of Johnson’s great mind,Where new treasures unnumber’d I constantly find.Huge Briareus’s head, if old bards have not blunder’d,Amounted in all to the sum of one hundred;And Johnson,—so wide his intelligence spreads,Has the brains of—at least—the same number of heads.”
“This year I acquaintance began with the Thrales,Where I met with great talents ’mongst females and males:But the best thing that happen’d from that time to this,Was the freedom it gave me to sound the abyss,At my ease and my leisure, of Johnson’s great mind,Where new treasures unnumber’d I constantly find.Huge Briareus’s head, if old bards have not blunder’d,Amounted in all to the sum of one hundred;And Johnson,—so wide his intelligence spreads,Has the brains of—at least—the same number of heads.”
“This year I acquaintance began with the Thrales,
Where I met with great talents ’mongst females and males:
But the best thing that happen’d from that time to this,
Was the freedom it gave me to sound the abyss,
At my ease and my leisure, of Johnson’s great mind,
Where new treasures unnumber’d I constantly find.
Huge Briareus’s head, if old bards have not blunder’d,
Amounted in all to the sum of one hundred;
And Johnson,—so wide his intelligence spreads,
Has the brains of—at least—the same number of heads.”
A few months after the Streathamite morning visit to St. Martin’s-street that has been narrated, an evening party was arranged by Dr. Burney, for bringing thither again Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale, at the desire of Mr. and Mrs. Greville and Mrs. Crewe; who wished, under the quiet roof of Dr. Burney, to make acquaintance with those celebrated personages.
This meeting, though more fully furnished with materials, produced not the same spirit or interest as its predecessor; and it owed, unfortunately, its miscarriage to the anxious efforts of Dr. Burney for heightening its success.
To take off, as he hoped, what might be stiff or formidable in an appointed encounter between persons of such highly famed conversational powers, who, absolute strangers to one another, must emulously,on each side, wish to shine with superior lustre, he determined
To mingle sweet discourse with music sweet;
and to vary, as well as soften the energy of intellectual debate, by the science and the sweetness of instrumental harmony. But the lovers of music, and the adepts in conversation, are rarely in true unison. Exceptions only form, not mar a rule; as witness Messieurs Crisp, Twining, and Bewley, who were equally eminent for musical and for mental melody: but, in general, the discourse-votaries think time thrown away, or misapplied, that is not devoted exclusively to the powers of reason; while the votaries of harmony deem pleasure and taste discarded, where precedence is not accorded to the melting delight of modulated sounds.
The party consisted of Dr. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Greville, Mrs. Crewe, Mr., Mrs., and Miss Thrale; Signor Piozzi, Mr. Charles Burney, the Doctor, his wife, and four of his daughters.[18]
Mr. Greville, in manner, mien, and high personalpresentation, was still the superb Mr. Greville of other days; though from a considerable diminution of the substantial possessions which erst had given him pre-eminence at the clubs and on the turf, the splendour of his importance was now superseded by newer and richer claimants. And even intonand fashion, though his rank in life kept him a certain place, his influence, no longer seconded by fortune, was on the wane.
Mrs. Greville, whose decadence was in that very line in which alone her husband escaped it,—personal beauty,—had lost, at an early period, her external attractions, from the excessive thinness that had given to her erst fine and most delicate small features, a cast of sharpness so keen and meagre, that, joined to the shrewdly intellectual expression of her countenance, made her seem fitted to sit for a portrait, such as might have been delineated by Spencer, of a penetrating, puissant, and sarcastic fairy queen. She still, however, preserved her early fame; her Ode to Indifference having twined around her brow a garland of wide-spreading and unfading fragrance.
Mrs. Crewe seemed to inherit from both parents only what was best. She was still in a blaze of beauty that her happy and justly poisedembonpointpreserved, with a roseate freshness, that eclipsed even juvenile rivalry, not then alone, but nearly to the end of a long life.
With all the unavoidable consciousness of only looking, only speaking, only smiling to give pleasure and receive homage, Mrs. Crewe, even from her earliest days, had evinced an intuitive eagerness for the sight of whoever or whatever was original, or peculiar, that gave her a lively taste for acquiring information; not deep, indeed, nor scientific; but intelligent, communicative, and gay. She had earnestly, therefore, availed herself of an opportunity thus free from parade or trouble, of taking an intimate view of so celebrated a philosopher as Dr. Johnson; of whom she wished to form a personal judgment, confirmatory or contradictory, of the rumours, pro and contra, that had instigated her curiosity.
Mr. Thrale, also, was willing to be present at this interview, from which he flattered himself with receiving much diversion, through the literary skirmishes, the pleasant retorts courteous, and the sharp pointed repartees, that he expected to hear reciprocated between Mrs. Greville, Mrs. Thrale, and Dr. Johnson: for though entirely a man of peace, and a gentleman in his character, he had a singularamusement in hearing, instigating, and provoking a war of words, alternating triumph and overthrow, between clever and ambitious colloquial combatants, where, as here, there was nothing that could inflict disgrace upon defeat.
And this, indeed, in a milder degree, was the idea of entertainment from the meeting that had generally been conceived. But the first step taken by Dr. Burney for social conciliation, which was calling for a cantata from Signor Piozzi, turned out, on the contrary, the herald to general discomfiture; for it cast a damp of delay upon the mental gladiators, that dimmed the brightness of the spirit with which, it is probable, they had meant to vanquish each the other.
Piozzi, a first rate singer, whose voice was deliciously sweet, and whose expression was perfect, sung in his very best manner, from his desire to do honour toil Capo di Casa; butil Capo di Casaand his family alone did justice to his strains: neither the Grevilles nor the Thrales heeded music beyond what belonged to it as fashion: the expectations of the Grevilles were all occupied by Dr. Johnson; and those of the Thrales by the authoress of the Ode to Indifference. When Piozzi, therefore,arose, the party remained as little advanced in any method or pleasure for carrying on the evening, as upon its first entrance into the room.
Mr. Greville, who had been curious to see, and who intended to examine this leviathan of literature, as Dr. Johnson was called in the current pamphlets of the day, considered it to be his proper post to open the campaign of theconversatione. But he had heard so much, from his friend Topham Beauclerk, whose highest honour was that of classing himself as one of the friends of Dr. Johnson; not only of the bright intellect with which the Doctor brought forth his wit and knowledge; and of the splendid talents with which he displayed them when they were aptly met; but also of the overwhelming ability with which he dismounted and threw into the mire of ridicule and shame, the antagonist who ventured to attack him with any species of sarcasm, that he was cautious how to encounter so tremendous a literary athletic. He thought it, therefore, most consonant to his dignity to leave his own character as an author in the back ground; and to take the field with the aristocratic armour of pedigree and distinction. Aloof, therefore, he kept from all; and, assuming his most supercilious air of distantsuperiority, planted himself, immovable as a noble statue, upon the hearth, as if a stranger to the whole set.
Mrs. Greville would willingly have entered the lists herself, but that she naturally concluded Dr. Johnson would make the advances.
And Mrs. Crewe, to whom all this seemed odd and unaccountable, but to whom, also, from her love of any thing unusual, it was secretly amusing, sat perfectly passive in silent observance.
Dr. Johnson, himself, had come with the full intention of passing two or three hours, with well chosen companions, in social elegance. His own expectations, indeed, were small—for what could meet their expansion? his wish, however, to try all sorts and all conditions of persons, as far as belonged to their intellect, was unqualified and unlimited; and gave to him nearly as much desire to see others, as his great fame gave to others to see his eminent self. But his signal peculiarity in regard to society, could not be surmised by strangers; and was as yet unknown even to Dr. Burney. This was that, notwithstanding the superior powers with which he followed up every given subject, he scarcely ever began one himself; or, to use the phrase of Sir W. W. Pepys, originated; though the masterly mannerin which, as soon as any topic was started, he seized it in all its bearings, had so much the air of belonging to the leader of the discourse, that this singularity was unnoticed and unsuspected, save by the experienced observation of long years of acquaintance.
Not, therefore, being summoned to hold forth, he remained silent; composedly at first, and afterwards abstractedly.
Dr. Burney now began to feel considerably embarrassed; though still he cherished hopes of ultimate relief from some auspicious circumstance that, sooner or later, would operate, he hoped, in his favour, through the magnetism of congenial talents.
Vainly, however, he sought to elicit some observations that might lead to disserting discourse; all his attempts received only quiet, acquiescent replies, “signifying nothing.” Every one was awaiting some spontaneous opening from Dr. Johnson.
Mrs. Thrale, of the whole coterie, was alone at her ease. She feared not Dr. Johnson; for fear made no part of her composition; and with Mrs. Greville, as a fair rival genius, she would have been glad, from curiosity, to have had the honour of a little tilt, in full carelessness of its event; for though triumphantwhen victorious, she had spirits so volatile, and such utter exemption from envy or spleen, that she was gaily free from mortification when vanquished. But she knew the meeting to have been fabricated for Dr. Johnson; and, therefore, though not without difficulty, constrained herself to be passive.
When, however, she observed the sardonic disposition of Mr. Greville to stare around him at the whole company in curious silence, she felt a defiance against his aristocracy beat in every pulse; for, however grandly he might look back to the long ancestry of the Brookes and the Grevilles, she had a glowing consciousness that her own blood, rapid and fluent, flowed in her veins from Adam of Saltsberg; and, at length, provoked by the dullness of a taciturnity that, in the midst of such renowned interlocutors, produced as narcotic a torpor as could have been caused by a dearth the most barren of human faculties; she grew tired of the music, and yet more tired of remaining, what as little suited her inclinations as her abilities, a mere cipher in the company; and, holding such a position, and all its concomitants, to be ridiculous, her spirits rose rebelliously above her control; and, in a fit of utter recklessness of what might be thought of her by her fine newacquaintance, she suddenly, but softly, arose, and stealing on tip-toe behind Signor Piozzi; who was accompanying himself on the piano-forte to an animatedarria parlante, with his back to the company, and his face to the wall; she ludicrously began imitating him by squaring her elbows, elevating them with ecstatic shrugs of the shoulders, and casting up her eyes, while languishingly reclining her head; as if she were not less enthusiastically, though somewhat more suddenly, struck with the transports of harmony than himself.
This grotesque ebullition of ungovernable gaiety was not perceived by Dr. Johnson, who faced the fire, with his back to the performer and the instrument. But the amusement which such an unlooked for exhibition caused to the party, was momentary; for Dr. Burney, shocked lest the poor Signor should observe, and be hurt by this mimicry, glided gently round to Mrs. Thrale, and, with something between pleasantry and severity, whispered to her, “Because, Madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?”
It was now that shone the brightest attribute of Mrs. Thrale, sweetness of temper. She took thisrebuke with a candour, and a sense of its justice the most amiable: she nodded her approbation of the admonition; and, returning to her chair, quietly sat down, as she afterwards said, like a pretty little miss, for the remainder of one of the most humdrum evenings that she had ever passed.
Strange, indeed, strange and most strange, the event considered, was this opening intercourse between Mrs. Thrale and Signor Piozzi. Little could she imagine that the person she was thus called away from holding up to ridicule, would become, but a few years afterwards, the idol of her fancy and the lord of her destiny! And little did the company present imagine, that this burlesque scene was but the first of a drama the most extraordinary of real life, of which these two persons were to be the hero and heroine: though, when the catastrophe was known, this incident, witnessed by so many, was recollected and repeated from coterie to coterie throughout London, with comments and sarcasms of endless variety.
The most innocent person of all that went forward was the laurelled chief of the little association, Dr. Johnson; who, though his love for Dr. Burney made it a pleasure to him to have been includedin the invitation, marvelled, probably, by this time, since uncalled upon to distinguish himself, why he had been bidden to the meeting. But, as the evening advanced, he wrapt himself up in his own thoughts, in a manner it was frequently less difficult to him to do than to let alone, and became completely absorbed in silent rumination: sustaining, nevertheless, a grave and composed demeanour, with an air by no means wanting in dignity any more than in urbanity.
Very unexpectedly, however, ere the evening closed, he shewed himself alive to what surrounded him, by one of those singular starts of vision, that made him seem at times,—though purblind to things in common, and to things inanimate,—gifted with an eye of instinct for espying any action or position that he thought merited reprehension: for, all at once, looking fixedly on Mr. Greville, who, without much self-denial, the night being very cold, pertinaciously kept his station before the chimney-piece, he exclaimed: “If it were not for depriving the ladies of the fire,—I should like to stand upon the hearth myself!”
A smile gleamed upon every face at this pointed speech. Mr. Greville tried to smile himself, thoughfaintly and scoffingly. He tried, also, to hold to his post, as if determined to disregard so cavalier a liberty: but the sight of every eye around him cast down, and every visage struggling vainly to appear serious, disconcerted him; and though, for two or three minutes, he disdained to move, the awkwardness of a general pause impelled him, ere long, to glide back to his chair; but he rang the bell with force as he passed it, to order his carriage.
It is probable that Dr. Johnson had observed the high air and mien of Mr. Greville, and had purposely brought forth that remark to disenchant him from his self-consequence.
The party then broke up; and no one from amongst it ever asked, or wished for its repetition.
If the mode of the first queen of theBas BleuSocieties, Mrs. Vesey, had here been adopted, for destroying the formality of the circle, the party would certainly have been less scrupulously ceremonious; for if any two of the gifted persons present had been jostled unaffectedly together, there can be little doubt that the plan and purpose of Dr. Burney would have been answered by a spirited conversation. But neither then, nor since, has so happy a confusion to all order of etiquette been instituted, as was setafloat by that remarkable lady; whose amiable and intelligent simplicity made her follow up the suggestions of her singular fancy, without being at all aware that she did not follow those of common custom.
The professional history, as well as the opinions of Dr. Burney, are so closely inserted in his History of Music, that they are all passed by in the memoirs of his life; but there arrived in England, at this period, a foreign singer of such extraordinary merit in character as well as talents, that not to inscribe his name in the list of the Doctor’s chosen friends, as well as in that which enrols him at the head of the most supremely eminent of vocal performers, would be ill proclaiming, or remembering, the equal height in both points to which he was raised in the Doctor’s estimation, by a union the most delighting of professional with social excellence.
Pacchierotti, who came out upon the opera stage in 1778, is first mentioned, incidentally, in the History of Music, as “a great and original performer;” and his public appearance afterwards is announced by this remarkable paragraph.
“To describe, with merited discrimination, the uncommon and varied powers of Pacchierotti, would require a distinct dissertation of considerable length, rather than a short article incorporated in a general History of Music.”
The Doctor afterwards relates, that eagerly attending the first rehearsal of Demofonte, with which opera Pacchierotti began his English career, and in which, under the pressure of a bad cold, he sang onlya sotto voce, his performance afforded a more exquisite pleasure than the Doctor had ever before experienced, or even imagined. “The natural tone of his voice,” says the History of Music, “was so interesting, sweet, and pathetic, that when he had a long note, I never wished him to change it, or to do any thing but swell, diminish, or prolong it, in whatever way he pleased. A great compass of voice downwards, with an ascent up to C in alt.; an unbounded fancy, and a power not only of executing the most refined and difficult passages, but of inventing new embellishments which had never then been on paper, made him, during his long residence here, a new singer to me every time I heard him.”
A still more exact and scientific detail of his powers is then succeeded by these words: “That Pacchierotti’s feeling and sentiments were uncommon,was not only discoverable by his voice and performance, but by his countenance, in which through a general expression of benevolence, there was a constant play of features that varyingly manifested all the changing workings and agitations of his soul. * * * * When his voice was in order, and obedient to his will, there was a perfection in tone, taste, knowledge, and sensibility, that my conception in the art could not imagine possible to be surpassed.”
And scarcely could this incomparable performer stand higher in the eminence of his profession, than in that of his intellect, his temper, and his character.
If he had not been a singer, he would probably have been a poet; for his ideas, even in current conversation, ran involuntarily into poetical imagery; and the language which was their vehicle, was a sort of poetry in itself; so luxuriantly was it embellished with fanciful allusions, or sportive notions, that, when he was highly animated in conversation, the effusions of his imagination resembled his cadences in music, by their excursionary flights, and impassioned bursts of deep, yet tender sensibility.
He made himself nearly as many friends in thiscountry to whom he was endeared by his society, as admirers by whom he was enthusiastically courted for his talents.
The first Mrs. Sheridan, Miss Linley, whose sweet voice and manner so often moved “the soul to transport, and the eyes to tears,” told Dr. Burney, that Pacchierotti was the only singer who taught her to weep from melting pleasure and admiration.
He loved England even fervently; its laws, customs, manners, and its liberty. Of this he gave the sincerest proofs throughout his long life.[19]
The English language, though so inharmonious compared with his own, he made his peculiar study, from his desire to mingle with the best society, and to enjoy its best authors; for both which he had a taste the most classical and lively.
He had the truly appropriate good fortune, for a turn of mind and endowments so literary, to fall in the way of Mr. Mason immediately upon coming over to this country: few persons could be more capable to appreciate a union of mental with professional merit, than that elegant poet; who withboth in Pacchierotti was so much charmed, as to volunteer his services in teaching him the English language.
So Parnassian a preceptor was not likely to lead his studies from their native propensity to the Muses; and the epistles and billets which he wrote in English, all demonstrated that the Pegasus which he spurred, when composition was his pursuit, was of the true Olympic breed.[20]
Pacchierotti was attached to Dr. Burney with equal affection and reverence; while by the Doctor in return, the sight of Pacchierotti was always hailed with cordial pleasure; and not more from the pathos of his soul-touching powers of harmony, than from the sweetness, yet poignancy of his discourse; and the delightful vivacity into which he could be drawn by his favourites, from the pensive melancholy of his habitual silence. Timidity and animation seemed to balance his disposition with alternate sway; but his character was of a benevolence that had no balance, no mixture whatsoever.
The Doctor’s doggrel register of 1778, has these two couplets upon Pacchierotti.