It may seem strange, in giving an account of this meeting, not to have
recited even one speech from so celebrated an author as Mr. Gibbon. But
not one is recollected. His countenance looked always serene; yet he
did not appear to be at his ease. His name and future fame seemed to
be more in his thoughts than the present society, or than any present
enjoyment: and the exalted spirits of Mr. Burke, at this period, might
rather alarm than allure a man whose sole care in existence seemed
that of paying his court to posterity; and induce him, therefore, to
evade coming into collision with so dauntless a compeer; from the sage
apprehension of making a less splendid figure, at this moment, as a
colloquial competitor, than he had reason to expect making, hereafter,
as a Roman historian.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, however, gave, sportively, and with much
self-amusement, another turn to his silence; for after significantly,
in a whisper, asking the Memorialist, whether she had remarked the
taciturnity of Mr. Gibbon?—he laughingly demanded also, whether she
had discovered its cause?
“No,” she answered; “nor guessed it.”
“Why, he’s terribly afraid you’ll snatch at him for a character in your
next book!”
* * * * *
It may easily be imagined that the few words, but highly distinguishing
manner in which Mr. Burke had so courteously marked his kindness
towards _Evelina; or, A Young Lady’s Entrance into the World_, awakened
in the mind of Dr. Burney no small impatience to develop what might be
his opinion of _Cecilia; or, the Memoirs of an Heiress_, just then on
the eve of publication.
And not long was his parental anxiety kept in suspense. That generous
orator had no sooner given an eager perusal to the work, than he
condescended to write a letter of the most indulgent, nay eloquent
approvance to its highly honoured author; for whom he vivaciously
displayed a flattering partiality, to which he inviolably adhered
through every change, either in his own affairs, or in hers, to the end
of his life.
* * * * *
All the manuscript memorandums that remain of the year 1782, in the
hand-writing of Dr. Burney, are teeming with kind exultation at the
progress of this second publication; though the anecdote that most
amused him, and that he wrote triumphantly to the author, was one
that had been recounted to him personally at Buxton, whence the then
Lord Chancellor, Thurlow, went on a visit to Lord Gower,[42] at
Trentham Hall; where, on being conducted to a splendid library, he
took a volume of Cecilia out of his pocket, exclaiming, “What signify
all your fine and flourishing works here? See! I have brought you a
little book that’s worth them all!” and he threw it upon the table,
open, comically, at the passage where Hobson talks of “_my Lord High
Chancellor, and the like of that_.”
* * * * *
From the time of the Richmond Hill assemblage, the acquaintance of Dr.
Burney with Mr. Burke ripened into a regard that was soon mellowed
into true and genial friendship, such as well suited the primitive
characters, however it might clash, occasionally, with the current
politics, of both.
Influenced by such a chief, the whole of the family of Mr. Burke
followed his example; and the son, brother, and cousin, always joined
the Doctor and his daughter upon every accidental opportunity: while
Mrs. Burke called in St. Martin’s-street to fix the acquaintance, by
a pressing invitation to both father and daughter, to pass a week at
Beaconsfield.
Not to have done this at so favourable a juncture in the spirits, the
powers, and the happiness of Mr. Burke, always rested on both their
minds with considerable regret; and on one of them it rests still!
for an hour with Mr. Burke, in that bright halcyon season of his
glory, concentrated in matter, and embellished in manner, as much wit,
wisdom, and information, as might have demanded weeks, months,—perhaps
more—to elicit from any other person:—and even, perhaps, at any other
period, from himself:—Dr. Johnson always excepted.
But the engagements of Dr. Burney tied him to the capital; and no
suspicion occurred that the same resplendent sunshine which then
illuminated the fortune, the faculties, and the character of Mr. Burke,
would not equally vivify a future invitation. Not one foreboding
cloud lowered in the air with misty menace of the deadly tempests,
public and domestic, that were hurtling over the head of that exalted
but passion-swayed orator; though such were so soon to darken the
refulgence, now so vivid, of his felicity and his fame; the public, by
warping his judgment—the domestic, by breaking his heart!
* * * * *