“The conversation was lively and general the chief part of the evening; but about midnight it turned upon music, on which subject his Royal Highness deigned so wholly to address himself to me, that we kept it up a full half hour, without any one else offering a word. We were, generally, in perfect tune in our opinions; though once or twice I ventured to dissent from his Royal Highness; and once he condescended to come over to my argument: and he had the skill, as well as nobleness, to put me as perfectly at my ease in expressing my notions, as I should have been with any other perfectly well-bred man.
“The subject was then changed to classical lore; and here his Royal Highness, with similar condescension, addressed himself to my son, as to a man of erudition whose ideas, on learned topics, he respected; and a full discussion followed, of several literary matters.
“When the Prince rose to go to another room, we met Lady Melbourne and her daughter, just returned from the opera; to which they had been while we sat over the wine, (and eke the cherry brandy); and from which they came back in exact time for coffee! The Prince here, coming up to me, most graciously took my hand, and said, ‘I am glad we got, at last, to our favourite subject.’ He then made me sit down by him, close to the keys of a piano-forte; where, in a low voice, but face to face, we talked again upon music, and uttered our sentiments with, I may safely say, equal ease and freedom; so politely he encouraged my openness and sincerity.
“I then ventured to mention that! had a book in my possession that I regarded as the property of his Royal Highness. It was a set of my Commemoration of Handel, which I had had splendidly bound for permitted presentation through the medium of Lord St. Asaph; but which had not been received, from public casualties. His Royal Highness answered me with the most engaging good-humour, saying that he was now building a library, and that, when it was finished, mine should be the first book placed in his collection. Nobody is so prompt at polite and gratifying compliments as this gracious Prince. I had no conception of his accomplishments. He quite astonished me by his learning, in conversing with my son, after my own musical tete a tete dialogue with him. He quoted Homer in Greek as readily as if quoting Dryden or Pope in English: and, in general conversation, during the dinner, he discovered a fund of wit and humour such as demonstrated him a man of reading and parts, who knew how to discriminate characters. He is, besides, an incomparable mimic. He counterfeited Dr. Parr’s lisp, language, and manner; and Kemble’s voice and accent, both on and off the stage, so accurately, so nicely, so free from caricature, that, had I been in another room, I should have sworn they had been speaking themselves. Upon the whole, I cannot terminate my account of this Prince better than by asserting it as my opinion, from the knowledge I acquired by my observations of this night, that he has as much conversational talent, and far more learning than Charles the Second; who knew no more, even of orthography, than Moliere’s Bourgeois Gentilhomme, “My next great concert was at Mr. Thomson’s, in Grosvenor-square. Before I arrived, from not knowing there was a Royal motive for every one to be early, I found the crowd of company so excessively great, that I was a considerable time before I could make my way into the music-room; which I found also so full, that not only I could not discern a place where I might get a seat, (and to stand the whole night in such a heat would have been impossible for me;) but also I could not discover a spot where I might look on even for a few minutes, to see what was going forwards, without being bodily jammed; except quite close to the orchestra; where alone there seemed a little breathing room left. To gain this desirable little opening, I ventured to follow closely, as if of their party, two very tine ladies, who made their way, heaven knows how, to some sofa, I fancy, reserved for them. But what was my surprise, and shame, when, upon attaining thus my coveted harbour, I found I came bounce upon the Prince of Wales! from respect to whom alone no crowd had there resorted! I had no time, however, for repentance, and no room for apology; for that gracious and kind Prince laughed at my exploit, and shook me very heartily by the hand, as if glad to see me again; and obliged me to sit down by him immediately. Nor would he suffer me to relinquish my place, even to any of the Princes, his brothers, when they came to him! nor even to any fine lady I always making a motion to me, that was a command, to be quiet. We talked, as before, over every piece and performance, with full ease of expression to our thoughts: but how great was my gratification, when, upon going into a cooler room, between the acts, he put his hat on his seat, and said, ‘Dr. Burney, will you take care of my place for me?’ thus obviating from my stay all fear of intrusion, by making it an obedience. And his notions about music so constantly agree with my own, that I know of no individual, male or female, with whom I talk about music with more sincerity, as well as pleasure, than with this most captivating Prince.
“Another time, at the Opera, the Prince of Wales, perceiving me in the pit, sent for me to his splendid box; and, making me take a snug seat close behind his Royal Highness, entered, with his usual vivacity, into discussions upon the performance; and so re-jeunied me by his gaiety and condescension, joined to his extraordinary judgment on musical subjects, that I held forth in return as if I had been but five-and-twenty!
“Soon after these festivities, I went to Bulstrode Park, where I had the grief to find the Duke more feeble and low-spirited than he had been in town. He could not bear the motion of a carriage, and was seldom able to dine at the table. He merely walked a little in the flower-garden. There was no company, except one day at dinner; and for one night Lord and Lady Darnley. They came in while I was dressing, and I had not heard their names, and knew not who they were. Unacquainted, therefore, with the bigoted devotion to the exclusive merit of Handel that I had to encounter, I got into a hot dispute that I should else, at the Duke’s house, have certainly avoided. The expression, ‘modern refinements,’ happened to escape me, which both my lord and his lady, with a tone of consummate contempt, repeated: ‘Modern refinements, indeed!’
‘Well, then,’ cried I. ‘let us call them modern changes of style and taste; for what one party calls refinements, the other, of course, constantly calls corruption and deterioration.’ They were quite irritated at this; and we all three then went to it ding-dong! I made use of the same arguments that I have so often used in my musical writings, — that ingenious men cannot have been idle during a century; and the language of sound is never stationary, any more than that of conversation and books. New modes of expression; new ideas from new discoveries and inventions, required new phrases: and in the cultivation of instruments, as well as of the voice, emulation would produce novelty, which, above all things, is wanted in music. And to say that the symphonies of Haydn, and the compositions of Mozart and Beethoven, have no merit, because they are not like Handel, Corelli, and Geminiani or to say that the singing of a Pacchierotti, a Marchese, a Banti, or a Billington, in their several styles, is necessarily inferior to singers and compositions of the days of Handel, is supposing time to stand still—” I was going on, when the kind Duke, struck, I doubt not, by a view of the storm I was incautiously brewing, contrived to whisper in my ear, ‘You are upon tender ground, Dr. Burney!’
“I drew back, with as troublesome a fit of coughing as I could call to my aid; and during its mock operation, his Grace had the urbanity to call up a new subject.”
THE KING AND QUEEN.
“ — 20, 1805. — The King, the Queen, and all the Royal Family in England, I believe, except the Prince and Princess of Wales, visited and inspected Chelsea College. They went over every ward, the Governor’s apartments, and all the offices; with the chapel, refectory, and even the kitchen. I was graciously summoned when they entered the chapel, and most graciously, indeed, received. The first thing the King said on my appearance, was, holding up both his hands as if astonished, ‘Ten years younger than when I saw you last, Dr. Burney!’ The first words of the Queen were, ‘How does Madame d’Arblay do?’ And after my answer, and humble thanks, she added in a low voice, ‘I am extremely obliged to you, Dr. Burney, for
the hymn you sent me.’
‘What? what?’ cried the King. Her Majesty answered: ‘The Russian air, Sir.’
‘Ay, ay; it’s a very fine thing; but they performed it too slow. It wanted more spirit in the execution. They commonly perform too slow, and make things of that sort languid that should be animated.’
“He then illustrated his observation by examples taken from the sluggish performance of Acis and Galatea; in which I heartily coincided; particularising in my turn the trio of, ‘The Flocks shall leave the Mountains,’
‘which loses,’ I said, ‘all its effect by being performed slowly. The two lovers are not complaining, nor accusing one another of infidelity or of cruelty; they are perfectly happy, and promising each other eternal constancy; the time, therefore, ought to mark liveliness, not melancholy: and the envy and jealousy of Polypheme while exclaiming, “Rage! Fury! I cannot, cannot bear it!” sound so tame, when sung without the fire of quick expression, that they seem quite ridiculous: for he does bear it I and looks on to the sight of the lover’s happiness with very commendable patience and composure.’
“Their Majesties then both condescended to make some inquiries after my family, though by name only after my daughter d’Arblay. I heard from her very seldom, I answered; I was afraid of writing to her; and I saw she was afraid of writing to me. Buonaparte, I said, was so outrageous against this country, that I doubted not but that a sheet of blank paper that should pass between us, would be turned into a conspiracy! My grand-daughter Fanny Phillips, I mentioned, now lived with me: for she had often and most condescendingly been noticed by the Royal Family, during the time that my daughter d’Arblay had had the honour of belonging to the Queen’s establishment. The Queen said she had heard of my young companion from Lady Aylesbury. When I left their Majesties, I went in search of my grand-daughter, and brought her under my arm into the governor’s great room.
“The Queen no sooner perceived, than she graciously addressed her: while the King held up his hands at her growth since he had seen her, at the Palace, in her childhood. All the Princesses remembered, and spoke to her with the most pleasing kindness.
“‘And what are you doing now, Dr. Burney?’ said the King.
“‘I am writing for the new Cyclopedia, Sir.’
“‘I am glad the subject of music,’ he answered, ‘should be in such good hands.’
“And then, with an arch smile, he added: ‘For the essay writers, and the periodical writers — are all, I believe, to a loan, at this time, Jacobins.’
“And afterwards, with a good-humoured laugh, he said:
‘That disease (the Jacobin) was first caught here, I believe, by the poets; and then by the actors; and now the infection has caught all the singers, and dancers, and fiddlers I’
““Tis the shortest cut, Sir,’ I answered, ‘to mate them all, what they all want to be, chiefs and masters severally themselves.’
“More seriously, then, the King said the contagion was so general only from the want of religion; without which all men were scrambling savages. ‘Religion,’ he added, ‘alone humanizes us.’
“Something being said, I forget what, about the Jew’s-row, Chelsea, his Majesty seemed fully apprised of its Bacchanalian character for the pensioners, as he directly quoted from Dryden, “‘Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure!’
And added, ‘when that ode is performing, and that line is singing, before Sir William Howe — I always give him a nod!’
“The King then resumed again his old favourite topic of amusement, my daughter d’Arblay’s concealed composition of Evelina; inquiring again and again into the various particulars of its contrivance and its discovery.
“I could not have been honoured with so much of his Majesty’s notice, but that, being at home at Chelsea College, I was naturally permitted to follow in his suite the whole morning; and all I have written passed at different intervals, between matters of higher import.”
“May 25. — I heard, with much musical concern, from Salomon, of the sudden death of young Pinto, who was infinitely the most extraordinary early violin player, I believe, of any age or country. When quite a child, he used to lead and direct private concerts at Lady Clarges’; not only correcting old performers from the Opera band, who played under him, with his tongue, but with his instrument; informing them of the time and the expression of various movements and passages, just as Geminiani used to do at sixty; and which professors would then bear from nobody else. When he first set about studying composition, he read everything he could lay hold of; and taught himself the pianoforte; and found out the most commodious manner of fingering the most difficult and extraneous keys. He composed a set of lessons.11 six of the most unusual keys in the system, which no one hut himself could play. It is generally believed that this most ingenious youth, who would listen to no control, shortened his existence by extreme irregularity of life. A matter worth recording, as a warning to check the ill-judged and fatal presumption of genius.”
The ensuing accounts, written by Dr. Burney, of the next successors to Sir George Howard, as Governors of Chelsea Hospital, are without date:
GENERAL LORD TOWNSHEND.
“I had the great pleasure, for six months, of seeing my old, honourable, and partial friend, General Lord Townshend, Governor of Chelsea Hospital. His Lordship was the immediate successor of Sir George Howard; and he frequently called upon me, as upon a favourite old provincial friend, during that period. His great flow of wit and humour made all intercourse with him gay and agreeable.”
Dr. Burney was wont to relate that, upon his congratulatory visit to the Marquis of Townshend, after his second nuptials, his lordship presented the Doctor to his beautiful bride, one of the three Miss Montgomeries, who were known, at that epoch, by the name of the Three Graces. The terms of the presentation were so full of kindness and regard, that her ladyship instantly held out to him her fair hand, which, being gloveless, he could not, he said, do otherwise than press to his lips; upon which Lord Townshend exclaimed, “Why, how now, Burney! She is not the Queen!” “She is your Queen, my Lord,’’ he replied; “and I am glad to pay her homage.” Lord Townshend was so little offended by this repartee, that, when the Doctor retired, his lordship descended with him to the hall, and, calling to the porter, said, “Look at this gentleman! Look at him well! D’ye hear? And whenever he comes, be it when it will, take care you always let him in!”
SIR WILLIAM FAWCET.
“Sir William Fawcet, the successor of Lord Townshend, was one of the most honourable of men; and he is worthy of particular notice, from the credit that his nomination did to the government of this country. He was friendly, benevolent, patient, and even humble; which rarely indeed is the case with men exalted from an inferior condition to professional honours, and dignity of station, such as never could have entered into their expectations when they began their career. Sir William is said to have opened his military life in the ranks; but by his bravery, diligence, and zeal in the service, as well as by his integrity, temper, and prudent conduct, to have mounted entirely by merit to the summit of his profession; regularly acquiring the good-will and favour of his superior officers, till he obtained that of the Commander in chief; through whose liberal recommendation he rose to the countenance and patronage of his Majesty himself.
“He was as firm in probity and honour as in courage. I never knew a man of more amiable simplicity, or more steady temper. Madame Geoffrin, of Paris, used to say of the Baron d’Holbech, that he was simplement simple. If such a phrase could be naturalized in English, it would exactly suit Sir William Fawcet: and the suavity of manners he acquired by frequenting the court, though late in life, was certainly extraordinary. Marbles and metals very difficultly receive a polish after being long neglected, and exposed to corrosion; but when the intrinsic value is solid, the external, sooner or later, always manifests affinity.”
In a memorandum of 1805, is this paragraph:
“Lady Bruce, — after I had nearly transcribed two h
uge folio volumes of music, or, rather, on music, Sala’s Regole di Contrapunto, which I thought Lady Bruce had only lent me, and which I had therefore returned; sends me them back, telling me she had brought them from Naples purposely to put them into my possession, and only wishing they were more worth my acceptance. What ill usage! — The books, indeed, tell me nothing I did not know, and are nothing, with all their value, to me, compared to her ladyship’s goodness and kindness. They are, nevertheless, the best digested course of study on counterpoint that have, perhaps, ever been written; and my collection of books on music would be incomplete without them.”
* * * * *
The severe disappointments, with their aggravating circumstances, that repeatedly had deprived Dr. Burney of the first post of nominal honour in his profession, which the whole musical world, not only of his own country, but of Europe, would have voted to be his due, were now, from the Doctor’s advanced stage in life, closing, without further struggle, into inevitable submission.
Yet his many friends to whom this history was familiar, and who knew that the approbation of the King, from the earliest time that the Doctor had been made known to His Majesty, had invariably been in his favour, could not acquiesce in this resignation; and suggested amongst themselves the propriety of presenting Dr. Burney to the King, as a fit object for the next vacancy that might occur, in the literary line, for a pension to a man of letters.
And, upon the death of Mrs. Murphy, Mr. Crewe endeavoured to begin a canvass.
But an audience with the King, at that moment, from various illnesses and calamities, was so little attainable, that no application had been found feasible: weeks, months again rolled away without the effort; and nothing, certainly, could be so unexpected, so utterly unlooked for, in the course of things, as that Dr. Burney, the most zealous adherent to government principles, and the most decided enemy to democratic doctrines, should finally receive all the remuneration he ever attained for his elaborate workings in that art, which, of all others, was the avowed favourite of his King, under the administration of the great chief of opposition, Charles Fox.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 438
