And he had the happiness of often meeting with the Hon. Frederic
North, afterwards Earl of Guildford; whose pleasant wit, practical
urbanity, and persevering love of enterprise, made him full of original
entertainment; whilst his unvarying gaiety of good-humour enabled
him to discard spleen from pain, and to banish murmuring from even
the acutest fits of the gout; though maimed by them, distorted, and
crippled.
Upon his first visit to Dr. Burney, at Chelsea College, Mr. Frederick
North appeared there upon crutches, and with difficulty hobbled into
the library; yet he advanced with a smile, saying, that though he
must obsequiously beg permission to produce himself in such a plight
elsewhere, he boldly felt at home in coming with wooden legs to Chelsea
Hospital.
1795.
The health of Dr. Burney was at this time most happily restored to
the full exercise of all his powers of life. In a letter written to
Bookham, at the close of the spring season, he says:
“I have been such an _evaporé_ lately, that if I were
near enough to accost you _de vive voix_, it would be
with Susey’s[34] exclamation, when she was just arrived
from France, at only eleven years old, after staying at
Mrs. Lewis’s till ten o’clock one night, “_Que je suis
libertine, papa!_” And thus, “_Que je suis libertin, ma
fille!_” cry I. Three huge assemblies at Spencer House;
two dinners at the Duke and Duchess of Leeds; two ditto
at Mr. Crewe’s; two clubs; a _dejeuner_ at Mrs. Crewe’s
villa, at Hampstead; a dinner at Lord Macartney’s;
ditto at Mr. Locke’s; ditto at Mr. Coxe’s; two ditto
at Sir George Howard’s, at Chelsea; two philosophical
_conversationes_ at Sir Joseph Bankes’s; two operas; two
professional concerts; Haydn’s benefit; Salomon’s three
ancient musics; &c. &c. &c.
“What dissipating profligacy! But what _argufies_ all
this festivity? ’Tis all vanity, and exhalement of
spirit. I was tired to death of it all before it was
over: whilst your domestic occupations and pleasures are
as fresh every morning as the roses of your garden.”
The following is the sportive conclusion of another letter, written in
the season of fashionable engagements.
“When shall I have done with telling you of _mes bonnes
fortunes_? Betty Carter, Hannah More, Lady Clarges—nay,
t’other day, at Dickey Coxe’s, I met with the Miss Berrys, as
lively and accomplished as ever; and I have strong invites
to their cottage at Strawberry Hill. What say you to that,
ma’am?—
“Torn to pieces, I declare!”