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 in great 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 nearest to 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 the _tête à tête_ journies 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 turbid
dregs 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 little world 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, that Mrs. 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 the _embonpoint
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 liked
her 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, from their 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 hight il 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
his _best 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 to be
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 were languishing, 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 fable which 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
write to 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, in _tête
à tête_ junctions, 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.”