The Burneys. Doctor Burney and his family are often spoken of in these Memoirs. He was a man of very uncommon attainments wit born with him, I suppose; learning, he had helped himself to, and was proud of the possession; elegance of manners he had so cultivated, that those who knew but little of the man, fancied he had great flexibility of mind. It was mere pliancy of body, however, and a perpetual show of obsequiousness by bowing incessantly as if acknowledging an inferiority, which nothing would have forced him to confess. I never in my life heard Johnson pronounce the words, "I beg your pardon, Sir," to any human creature but the apparently soft and gentle Dr. Burney. Perhaps the story may be related in the "Anecdotes ; but as I now recollect it, thus it is. "Did you, Madam, subscribe £100 to build our new bridge at Shrewsbury?" said Burney to me. No, surely, Sir," was my reply. "What connection have I with Shropshire? and where should I have money so to fling away?" "It is very comical, is it not, Sir?" said I, turning to Dr. Johnson, " that people should tell such unfounded stories?" "It is," answered he, "neither comical nor serious, my dear; it is only a wandering lie." This was spoken in his natural voice, without a thought of offence, I am confident; but up bounced Burney in a towering passion, and to my much amaze, put on the hero, surprising Doctor Johnson into a sudden request for pardon, and protestation of not having ever intended to accuse his friend of a falsehood. The following lines written, sur le champ, with a gold pen I gave him, prove he could make more agreeable impromptus than this I have related: 66 In humble guise to supplicate For thoughts, not pens, of gold. "For not alone the gift of tongues, The Muses' grace and favor, "The Virtues all around her wait Of parent, wife, and child. "Such judgment to direct each storm, A mind so pure, a heart so warm, There was a merry tale told about the town of some musical nobleman having been refused tickets for his private concert about this time by blind Stanley, who he had always patronized; and of his going to a grave friend's, I forget who, where, foaming with anger, he at length exclaimed: "But I will go to Burney's house to-night (where there was music), and that will do for him." "Are you mad, my dear Lord?" says the grave man, amazed; "to talk of setting a blind man's house on fire, because he has refused your favorite girl a ticket? Fie! fie! I am ashamed of listening to such strange things." The équivoque was now well understood; but having no acquaintance with the doctor, the gentleman thought he had menaced going to burn his house. We had been talking of the French rondeaux one day, and both doctors said they were impracticable in English, so I made this, Musa loquitur: - To burn ye with rapture, or melt you A rondeau was never intended: with pity, Yet the lines should be light, and the turn should be witty. And the jest is to see how 't is ended. To finish it neat in an elegant style Though Phoebus himself should discern ye; And though to throw light on the troublesome toil, "VOITURE'S FAMOUS RONDEAU, "Ma foi, c'est fait de moi, car Isabeau "En voila cinq pourtant en un monceau "Si je pouvois encore de mon cerveau is borrowed from a sonnet of Lope de Vega, admirably imitated in our collection of poems called "Dodsley's Miscellanies " "SONETO. "Un soneto me manda hazer Violante Que en mi vida me he visto en tanto aprieto. Burla burlando van los tres delante. "Yo pensé que no hallara consonante Y estoy a la mitad de otro quarteto; ": Mas si me veo en el primo terceto, "Per el primo terceto voy entrando "Ya estoy en el segundo, y aun sospecho 66 IMITATION BY MR. RODERICK. "Capricious Wray a sonnet needs must have, I ne'er was so put to 't before, a sonnet! Why fourteen verses must be spent upon it, 'Tis good, howe'er, to have conquered the first stave. "Yet I shall ne'er find rhymes enough by half, Said I; and found myself in midst of the second: "Thus far with good success, I think, I've scribbled, Thanks to the Muse, my work begins to shorten, There's thirteen lines got o'er driblet by driblet: 'Tis done; count how you will, I'll warrant there's fourteen." "I begin now to let loose my mind after Queeney and Burney." -Johnson, June 19, 1779. They were learning Latin of him; but Dr. Burney would not let his girl (Madam D'Arblay) go on: he thought grammar too masculine a study for misses. "I shall be in danger of crying out, with Mr. Head, catamaran whatever that may mean." Johnson. A comical hack joke. Ask me, and I will tell you one or two more tales about catamaran. Come; here it is: You do not *These trifles are principally curious as showing what clever people have thought clever. To borrow Johnson's words, many men, many women, or many children might have written either of the three. hate nonsense with affected fastidiousness, or fastidious affectation, like those who have little sense. Turn the page, then, over. This Mr. Head, whose real name was Plunkett, a low Irish parasite, dependant on Mr. Thrale primarily; and I suppose, secondarily on Mr. Murphy, was employed by them in various schemes of pleasure, as you men call profligacy; and on this occasion was deputed to amuse them by personating some lord, whom his patrons had promised to introduce to the beautiful Miss Gunnings when they first came over with intent to make their fortunes. He was received accordingly, and the girls played off their best airs, and cast kind looks on his introducers from time to time; till the fellow wearied, as Johnson says, and disgusted with his ill-acted character, burst out on a sudden as they sat at tea, and cried, "Catamaran! young gentlemen with two shoes and never a heel; when will you have done with silly jokes now? Lèdies;" turning to the future peeresses, 66 never mind these merry boys; but if you really can afford to pay for some incomparable silk stockings, or true India handkerchiefs, here they are now," rummaging his smuggler's pocket; but the girls jumped up and turned them all three into the street, where Thrale and Murphy cursed their senseless assistant, and called him Head, like lucus a non lucendo, because they swore he had none. The Duchess (of Hamilton), however, never did forgive this impudent frolic; Lady Coventry, more prudently, pretended to forget it. Catamaran! was probably a mere Irish exclamation which burst from the fellow when impatient to be selling his smuggled goods. There is exactly such a character in Richardson's "Clarissa," Captain Tomlinson, employed by Lovelace. 66 You and Mrs. must keep Mrs. about you; and try to make a wit of her. She will be a little unskilful in her first essays; but you will see how precept and example will bring her forwards. Surely it is very fine to have your powers. The wits court you, and the Methodists love you, and the whole world runs about you; and you write me word how well you can do without me; and so, go thy ways poor Jack." -Johnson, April 15, 1780. The names are filled with those of Mrs. Montague and Mrs. |