“Sir,
“Though I have never had the happiness of a personal
knowledge of you, I cannot think myself wholly a stranger to
a man with whose sentiments I have so long been acquainted;
for it seems to me as if the writer, who was sincere, had
effected the plan of that philosopher who wished men had
windows at their breasts, through which the affections of
their hearts might be viewed.
“It is with great self-denial that I refrain from giving way
to panegyric in speaking of the pleasure and instruction
I have received from your admirable writings; but knowing
that transcendent merit shrinks more at praise, than either
vice or dulness at censure, I shall compress my encomiums
into a short compass, and only tell you that I revere your
principles and integrity, in not prostituting your genius,
learning, and knowledge of the human heart, in ornamenting
vice or folly with those beautiful flowers of language due
only to wisdom and virtue. I must add, that your periodical
productions seem to me models of true genius, useful
learning, and elegant diction, employed in the service of the
purest precepts of religion, and the most inviting morality.
“I shall waive any further gratification of my wish to
tell you, Sir, how much I have been delighted by your
productions, and proceed to the _business_ of this letter;
which is no other than to beg the favour of you to inform
me, by the way that will give you the least trouble, when,
and in what manner, your admirably planned, and long
wished-for Dictionary will be published? If it should be
by subscription, or you should have any books at your own
disposal, I shall beg of you to favour me with six copies for
myself and friends, for which I will send you a draft.
“I ought to beg pardon of the public as well as yourself,
Sir, for detaining you thus long from your useful labours;
but it is the fate of men of eminence to be persecuted by
insignificant friends as well as enemies; and the simple
cur who barks through fondness and affection, is no less
troublesome than if stimulated by anger and aversion.
“I hope, however, that your philosophy will incline you to
forgive the intemperance of my zeal and impatience in making
these inquiries; as well as my ambition to subscribe myself,
with very great regard,
“Sir, your sincere admirer, and most humble servant,
“CHARLES BURNEY.”
“_Lynn Regis, 16th Feb. 1755._”
Within two months of the date of this letter, its writer was honoured
with the following answer.
“_To Mr. Burney, in Lynn Regis, Norfolk._
“SIR,
“If you imagine that by delaying my answer I intended to shew
any neglect of the notice with which you have favoured me,
you will neither think justly of yourself nor of me. Your
civilities were offered with too much elegance not to engage
attention; and I have too much pleasure in pleasing men like
you, not to feel very sensibly the distinction which you have
bestowed upon me.
“Few consequences of my endeavours to please or to benefit
mankind, have delighted me more than your friendship thus
voluntarily offered; which, now I have it, I hope to keep,
because I hope to continue to deserve it.
“I have no Dictionaries to dispose of for myself; but shall
be glad to have you direct your friends to Mr. Dodsley,
because it was by his recommendation that I was employed in
the work.
“When you have leisure to think again upon me, let me be
favoured with another letter, and another yet, when you
have looked into my Dictionary. If you find faults, I shall
endeavour to mend them: if you find none, I shall think you
blinded by kind partiality: but to have made you partial in
his favour will very much gratify the ambition of,
“Sir,
“Your most obliged
“And most humble servant,
“SAM. JOHNSON.”
“_Gough-square, Fleet-street_,
“_April 8, 1755_.”
A reply so singularly encouraging, demanding “another letter,” and
yet “another,” raised the spirits, and flattered the hopes—it might
almost be said the foresight—of Mr. Burney, with a prospect of future
intimacy, that instigated the following unaffected answer.
“SIR,
“That you should think my letter worthy of notice was what I
began to despair of; and, indeed, I had framed and admitted
several reasons for your silence, more than sufficient for
your exculpation. But so highly has your politeness overrated
my intentions, that I find it impossible for me to resist
accepting the invitation with which you have honoured me, of
writing to you again, though conscious that I have nothing to
offer that can by any means merit your attention.
“It is with the utmost impatience that I await the possession
of your great work, in which every literary difficulty will
he solved, and curiosity gratified, at least as far as
English literature is concerned: nor am I fearful of letting
expectation rise to the highest summit in which she can
accompany reason.
“From what you are pleased to say concerning Mr. Dodsley, I
shall ever think myself much his debtor; but yet I cannot
help suspecting that you intended him a compliment when you
talked of _recommendation_. Is it possible that the world
should be so blind, or booksellers so stupid, as to need
other recommendation than your own? Indeed, I shall honour
_both_, world and booksellers, so far as to substitute
_solicitation_ in the place of the above humiliating term.
“Perhaps you will smile when I inform you, that since first
the rumour of your Dictionary’s coming abroad this winter
was spread, I have been supposed to be marvellously deep in
politics: not a sun has set since the above time without
previously lighting me to the coffee-house; nor risen,
without renewing my curiosity. But time, the great revealer
of secrets, has at length put an end to my solicitude;
for, if there be truth in book men, I can now, by cunning
calculation, foretell the day and hour when it will arrive at
Lynn.
“If, which is probable, I should fix my future abode in
London, I cannot help rejoicing that I shall then be an
inhabitant of the same town, and exulting that I shall then
be a fellow citizen with Mr. Johnson; and were it possible
I could be honoured with a small share of his esteem, I
should regard it as the most grateful circumstance of my
life. And—shall I add, that I have a female companion, whose
intellects are sufficiently masculine to enter into the
true spirit of your writings, and, consequently, to have an
enthusiastic zeal for them and their author? How happy would
your presence make us over our tea, so often meliorated by
your productions!
“If, in the mean time, your avocations would permit you to
bestow a line or two upon me, without greatly incommoding
yourself, it would communicate the highest delight to
“Sir,
“Your most obedient,
“And most humble servant,
“CHA^s. BURNEY.”
“Have you, Sir, ever met with a little French book, entitled,
‘Synonimes François, par M. l’Abbé Girard?’ I am inclined to
imagine, if you have not seen it, that it would afford you,
as a philologer, some pleasure, it being written with great
spirit, and, I think, accuracy: but I should rejoice to have
my opinion either confirmed or corrected by yours. If you
should find any difficulty in procuring the book, mine is
wholly at your service.”
“_Lynn Regis, April 14th, 1755._”
To this letter there was little chance of any answer, the demanded
“another,” relative to the Dictionary, being still due.
That splendid, and probably, from any single intellect, unequalled
work, for vigour of imagination and knowledge amidst the depths of
erudition, came out in 1756. And, early in 1757, Mr. Burney paid his
faithful homage to its author.
“_To Mr. Johnson, Gough-square._
“SIR,
“Without exercising the greatest self-denial, I should not
have been able thus long to withhold from you my grateful
acknowledgments for the delight and instruction you have
afforded me by means of your admirable Dictionary—a work,
I believe, not yet equalled in any language; for, not
to mention the accuracy, precision, and elegance of the
definitions, the illustrations of words are so judiciously
and happily selected as to render it a repository, and, I
had almost said, universal register of whatever is sublime
or beautiful in English literature. In looking for words, we
constantly find things. The road, indeed, to the former, is
so flowery as not to be travelled with speed, at least by
me, who find it impossible to arrive at the intelligence I
want, without bating by the way, and revelling in collateral
entertainment. Were I to express all that I think upon this
subject, your Dictionary would be stript of a great part of
its furniture: but as praise is never gratefully received
by the justly deserving till a deduction is first made of
the ignorance or partiality of him who bestows it, I shall
support my opinion by a passage from a work of reputation
among our neighbours, which, if it have not yet reached you,
I shall rejoice at being the first to communicate, in hopes
of augmenting the satisfaction arising from honest fame,
and a conviction of having conferred benefits on mankind:
well knowing with how parsimonious and niggard a hand men
administer comfort of the kind to modest merit.
“‘Le savant et ingenieux M. Samuel Johnson, qui, dans
l’incomparable feuille periodique intitulée le Rambler,
apprenoit à ses compatriotes à penser avec justesse sur
les matières les plus interessantes, vient de leur fournir
des secours pour bien parler, et pour écrire correctement;
talens que personne, peut être, ne possede dans un degré
plus eminent que lui. Il n’y a qu’une voix sur le succés de
l’auteur pour epurer, fixer, et enricher une langue dont son
Rambler montre si admirablement l’abondance et la force,
l’elegance et l’harmonie.’
“_Bibliotheque des Savans._ Tom. iii. p. 482.
“Though I had constantly in my remembrance the encouragement
with which you flattered me in your reply to my first letter,
yet knowing that civility and politeness seem often to
countenance actions which they would not perform, I could
hardly think myself entitled to the permission you gave me
of writing to you again, had I not lately been apprised of
your intention to oblige the admirers of Shakespeare with
a new edition of his works by subscription. But, shall I
venture to tell you, notwithstanding my veneration for you
and Shakespeare, that I do not partake of the joy which the
selfish public seem to feel on this occasion?—so far from
it, I could not but be afflicted at reflecting, that so
exalted, so refined a genius as the author of the Rambler,
should submit to a task so unworthy of him as that of a mere
editor: for who would not grieve to see a Palladio, or a
Jones, undergo the dull drudgery of carrying rubbish from an
old building, when he should be tracing the model of a new
one? But I detain you too long from the main subject of this
letter, which is to beg a place in the subscription for,
The Right Hon. the Earl of Orford,
Miss Mason,
Brigs Carey, Esq.
Archdale Wilson, Esq.
Richard Fuller, Esq.
“And for, Sir,
“Your most humble, and extremely devoted servant,
“CHARLES BURNEY.”
“_Lynn Regis_,
_28th March, 1757._”
It was yet some years later than this last date of correspondence,
before Mr. Burney found an opportunity of paying his personal respects
to Dr. Johnson; who then, in 1760, resided in chambers at the Temple.
No account, unfortunately, remains of this first interview, except an
anecdote that relates to Mr. Bewley.
While awaiting the appearance of his revered host, Mr. Burney
recollected a supplication from the philosopher of Massingham, to be
indulged with some token, however trifling or common, of his friend’s
admission to the habitation of this great man. Vainly, however,
Mr. Burney looked around the apartment for something that he might
innoxiously purloin. Nothing but coarse and necessary furniture was in
view; nothing portable—not even a wafer, the cover of a letter, or a
split pen, was to be caught; till, at length, he had the happiness to
espie an old hearth broom in the chimney corner. From this, with hasty
glee, he cut off a bristly wisp, which he hurried into his pocket-book;
and afterwards formally folded in silver paper, and forwarded, in a
frank, to Lord Orford, for Mr. Bewley; by whom the burlesque offering
was hailed with good-humoured acclamation, and preserved through life.