In this manner passed on, quick though occupied, and happy though
toilsome, nine or ten years in Norfolk; when the health of Mr. Burney
being re-established, and his rising reputation demanding a wider field
for expansion, a sort of cry was raised amongst his early friends to
spur his return to the metropolis.
Fully, however, as he felt the flattery of that cry, and ill as, in
its origin, he had been satisfied with his Lynn residence, he had now
experienced from that town and its vicinity, so much true kindness, and
cordial hospitality, that his reluctance to quit them was verging upon
renouncing such a measure; when he received the following admonition
upon the subject from his first friend, and earliest guide, Mr. Crisp.
“TO MR. BURNEY.
* * *
“I have no more to say, my dear Burney, about harpsichords:
and if you remain amongst your foggy aldermen, I shall be
the more indifferent whether I have one or not. But really,
among friends, is not settling at Lynn, planting your youth,
genius, hopes, fortune, &c., against a north wall? Can you
ever expect ripe, high-flavoured fruit, from such an aspect?
Your underrate prices in the town, and galloping about the
country for higher, especially in the winter—are they worthy
of your talents? In all professions, do you not see every
thing that has the least pretence to genius, fly up to the
capital—the centre of riches, luxury, taste, pride,
extravagance,—all that ingenuity is to fatten upon? Take, then, your
spare person, your pretty mate, and your brats, to that propitious
mart, and,
‘Seize the glorious, golden opportunity,’
while yet you have youth, spirits, and vigour to give fair
play to your abilities, for placing them and yourself in a
proper point of view. And so I give you my blessing.
“SAMUEL CRISP.”
Mr. Crisp, almost immediately after this letter, visited, and for some
years, the continent.
This exhortation, in common with whatever emanated from Mr. Crisp,
proved decisive; and Mr. Burney fixed at once his resolve upon
returning to the capital; though some years still passed ere he could
put it in execution.
The following are his reflections, written at a much later period, upon
this determination.
After enumerating, with warm regard, the many to whom he owed kindness
in the county of Norfolk, he adds:
“All of these, for nearly thirty miles round, had their
houses and tables pressingly open to me: and, in the town
of Lynn, my wife, to all evening parties, though herself
no card player, never failed to be equally invited; for
she had a most delightful turn in conversation, seasoned
with agreeable wit, and pleasing manners; and great powers
of entering into the humours of her company; which, with
the beauty of her person, occasioned her to receive more
invitations than she wished; as she was truly domestic, had
a young family on her hands, and, generally, one of them at
her breast. But whenever we could spend an evening at home,
without disappointing our almost too kind inviters, we had a
course of reading so various and entertaining, in history,
voyages, poetry, and, as far as Chambers’ Dictionary, the
Philosophical Transactions, and the French Encyclopedia, to
the first edition of which I was a subscriber, could carry
us, in science, that those _tête à tête_ seclusions were what
we enjoyed the most completely.
“This, of course, raised my wife far above all the females of
Lynn, who were, then, no readers, with the exception of Mrs.
Stephen Allen and Dolly Young. And this congeniality of taste
brought on an intimacy of friendship in these three females,
that lasted during their several lives.
“My wife was the delight of all her acquaintance; excellent
mother—zealous friend—of highly superior intellects.
“We enjoyed at Lynn tranquillity and social happiness—”
* * * * *
Here again must be inserted another poetical epistle, written, during a
short separation, while still at Lynn; which shews that, with whatever
fervour of passion he married, he himself was “that other happy man,”
in the words of Lord Lyttleton, who had found “How much the wife is
dearer than the bride.”
“TO MRS. BURNEY.
“To thee, henceforth, my matchless mate,
My leisure hours I’ll dedicate;
To thee my inmost thoughts transmit,
Whene’er the busy scene I quit.
For thee, companion dear! I feel
An unextinguishable zeal;
A love implanted in the mind,
From all the grosser dregs refined.
Ah! tell me, must not love like mine
Be planted by a hand divine,
Which, when creation’s work was done,
Our heart-strings tuned in unison?
If business, or domestic care
The vigour of my mind impair;
If forc’d by toil from thee to rove,
’Till wearied limbs forget to move,
At night, reclin’d upon thy breast,
Thy converse lulls my soul to rest.
If sickness her distemper’d brood
Let loose,—to burn, or freeze my blood,
Thy tender vigilance and care,
My feeble frame can soon repair.
When in some doubtful maze I stray,
’Tis thou point’st out the unerring way;
If judgment float on wavering wings,
In notions vague of men and things;
If different views my mind divide,
Thy nod instructs me to decide.
My pliant soul ’tis thou can’st bend,
My help! companion! wife! and friend!
When, in the irksome day of trouble
The mental eye sees evils double,
Sweet partner of my hopes and fears!
’Tis thou alone can’st dry my tears.
’Tis thou alone can’st bring relief,
Partner of every joy and grief!
E’en when encompass’d with distress,
Thy smile can every ill redress.
On thee, my lovely, faithful friend,
My worldly blessings all depend:
But if a cloud thy visage low’r, }
Not all the wealth in Plutus’ power, }
Could buy my heart one peaceful hour. }
Then, lodg’d within that aching heart,
Is sorrow’s sympathetic dart.
* * * * *
But when upon that brow, the seat
Of sense refin’d, and beauty sweet,
The graces and the loves are seen,
And Venus sits by Wisdom’s queen;
Pale sadness takes her heavy flight,
And, envious, shuns the blissful sight.
So when the sun has long endur’d
His radiant face to be obscur’d
By baleful mists and vapours dense,
All nature mourns with grief intense:
But the refulgent God of Day
Soon shews himself in bright array;
And as his glorious visage clears,
The globe itself in smiles appears.”
“_Lynn_, 1753.”
The last act of Mr. Burney in relinquishing his residence in Norfolk,
was drawing up a petition to Lord Orford to allow park-room in the
Haughton grounds, for the rest of its life, to his excellent, faithful
mare, the intelligent Peggy; whose truly useful services he could not
bear to requite, according to the unfeeling usage of the many, by
selling her to hard labour in the decline of her existence.
Lord Orford good-humouredly complied with the request; and the
justly-prized Peggy, after enjoying for several years the most perfect
ease and freedom, died the death of old age, in Haughton Park.