But the cordial the most potent to the feelings and the spirits of
the Doctor, in this hard-trying year, was the exhilarating partiality
displayed towards him by Mr. Burke; and which was doubly soothing by
warmly and constantly including the Memorialist in its urbanity. From
the time of the party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’ upon Richmond Hill, their
intercourse had gone on with increase of regard. They met, and not
unfrequently, at various places; but chiefly at Sir Joshua Reynolds’,
Miss Moncton’s, and Mrs. Vesey’s. Mr. Burke delighted in society as
much as of society he was the supreme delight: and perhaps to this
social disposition he owed that part of his oratorical excellence that
made it so entertainingly varying, and so frequently interspersed with
penetrating reflections on human life.
But to the political circle to which Mr. Burke and his powers were
principally devoted, Dr. Burney was, accidentally, a stranger.
Accidentally may be said, for it was by no means deliberately, as he
was not of any public station or rank that demanded any restrictions to
his mental connexions. He was excursive, therefore, in his intercourse,
though fixed in his principles.
But besides the three places above named, Mr. Burke himself, from the
period of the assembly at Miss Moncton’s, had the grace and amiability
to drop in occasionally, uninvited and unexpectedly, to the little
tea-table of St. Martin’s-street; where his bright welcome from the
enchanted Memorialist, for whom he constantly inquired when the Doctor
was abroad, repaid him—in some measure, perhaps—for almost always
missing the chief of whom he came in search.
The Doctor, also, when he had half an hour to spare, took the new
votary of Mr. Burke to visit him and his pleasing wife, at their
apartments at the Treasury, where now was their official residence. And
here they saw, with wonder and admiration, amidst the whirl of politics
and the perplexities of ministerial arrangements, in which Mr. Burke,
then in the administration, was incessantly involved, how cheerfully,
how agreeably, how vivaciously, he could still be the most winning of
domestic men, the kindest of husbands, the fondest of fathers, and the
most delightful of friends.
During one of these visits to the Treasury, Mr. Burke presented to Miss
Palmer a beautiful inkstand, with a joined portfolio, upon some new
construction, and finished up with various contrivances, equally useful
and embellishing. Miss Palmer accepted it with great pleasure, but not
without many conscious glances towards the Memorialist, which, at last,
broke out into an exclamation: “I am ashamed to take it, Mr. Burke! how
much more Miss Burney deserves a writing present!”
“Miss Burney?” repeated he, with energy; “Fine writing tackle for Miss
Burney? No, no; she can bestow value on the most ordinary. A morsel of
white tea-paper, and a little blacking from her friend Mr. Briggs, in
a broken gallipot, would be converted by Miss Burney into more worth
than all the stationery of all the Treasury.”
This gay and ingenious turn, which made the compliment as gratifying to
one, as the present could be to the other, raised a smile of general
archness at its address in the company; and of comprehensive delight in
Dr. Burney.
The year 1783 was now on its wane; so was the administration in which
Mr. Burke was a minister; when one day, after a dinner at Sir Joshua
Reynolds’, Mr. Burke drew Dr. Burney aside, and, with great delicacy,
and feeling his way, by the most investigating looks, as he proceeded,
said that the organist’s place at Chelsea College was then vacant: that
it was but twenty pounds a year, but that, to a man of Dr. Burney’s
eminence, if it should be worth acceptance, it might be raised to
fifty. He then lamented that, during the short time in which he had
been Paymaster General, nothing better, and, indeed, nothing else had
occurred more worthy of offering.
Trifling as this was in a pecuniary light, and certainly far beneath
the age or the rank in his profession of Dr. Burney, to possess any
thing through the influence, or rather the friendship of Mr. Burke,
had a charm irresistible. The Doctor wished, also, for some retreat
from, yet near London; and he had reason to hope for apartments, ere
long, in the capacious Chelsea College. He therefore warmly returned
his acknowledgments for the proposal, to which he frankly acceded.
And two days after, just as the news was published of a total change of
administration, Dr. Burney received from Mr. Burke the following notice
of his vigilant kindness:—
“TO DR. BURNEY.
“I had yesterday the pleasure of voting you, my dear Sir,
a salary of fifty pounds a year, as organist to Chelsea
Hospital. But as every increase of salary made at our Board is
subject to the approbation of the Lords of the Treasury, what
effect the change now made may have I know not;—but I do not
think any Treasury will rescind it.
“This was _pour faire la bonne bouche_ at parting with office;
and I am only sorry that it did not fall in my way to shew you
a more substantial mark of my high respect for you and Miss
Burney.
“I have the honour to be, &c. “EDM. BURKE.”
“_Horse Guards, Dec. 9, 1783._”
“I really could not do this business at a more early period,
else it would have been done infallibly.”
The pleasure of Dr. Burney at this event was sensibly dampt when
he found that _la bonne bouche_ so kindly made for himself, and so
flatteringly uniting his daughter in its intentions, was unallied to
any species of remuneration, or even of consideration, to Mr. Burke
himself, for all his own long willing services, his patriotic exertions
for the general good, and his noble, even where erroneous, efforts to
stimulate public virtue.
A short time afterwards, Mr. Burke called himself in St.
Martin’s-street, and,—for the Doctor, as usual, was not at home,—Mr.
Burke, as usual, had the condescension to inquire for this Memorialist;
whom he found alone.
He entered the room with that penetrating look, yet open air, that
marked his demeanour where his object in giving was, also, to receive
pleasure; and in uttering apologies of as much elegance for breaking
into her time, as if he could possibly be ignorant of the honour he did
her; or blind to the delight with which it was felt.
He was anxious, he said, to make known in person that the business of
the Chelsea Organ was finally settled at the Treasury.
Difficult would it be, from the charm of his manner as well as of
his words, to decide whether he conveyed this communication with most
friendliness or most politeness: but, having delivered for Dr. Burney
all that officially belonged to the business, he thoughtfully, a
moment, paused; and then impressively said: “This is my last act of
office!”
He pronounced these words with a look that almost affectionately
displayed his satisfaction that it should so be bestowed; and with such
manly self-command of cheerfulness in the midst of frankly undisguised
regret that all his official functions were over, that his hearer was
sensibly, though silently touched, by such distinguishing partiality.
Her looks, however, she hopes, were not so mute as her voice, for
those of Mr. Burke seemed responsively to accept their gratitude. He
reiterated, then, his kind messages to the Doctor, and took leave.
1784.
The reviving ray of pleasure that gleamed from the kindness of Mr.
Burke at the close of the fatal year 1783, still spread its genial
warmth over Dr. Burney at the beginning of 1784, by brightening a hope
of recovery for Dr. Johnson; a hope which, though frequently dimmed,
cast forth, from time to time, a transitory lustre nearly to this
year’s conclusion.