“Or — were they thrown on some bleak northern strand, where life is mere existence, where the genial board has never welcomed the wearied traveller, where freezing cold benumbs even the soft affections of the heart, and where, from the first great law of self-preservation, compassion is monopolized by internal penury and want? Ill-fated passengers! it was not here, in the chill atmosphere of personal misery, your woes should have sought redress; the commiseration which is your due can only be conceived by those who have known the height from which ye have fallen, who have enjoyed the same affluence, and blessed Heaven for similar peace and joy—”
But no; this, at least, has not been their doom — nor will this, I trust, be their fate. No land of barbarians has been insensible to their worth, no ruthless region of the north has blighted sensibility for their misfortunes from ignorance of milder life: the land to which they sailed was Great Britain; in the fulness of its felicity, in the meridian of its glory, not more celebrated for arts and arms, than beloved for indulgent benevolence, and admired for munificence of liberality.
Here, then, ye reverend fathers, blest at least in the choice of your asylum, here rest your weary limbs, till the wicked cease from troubling! secure of the kindest, and, when once your exigency is known, the most effectual succour. Calm, therefore, your harrassed spirits, repose your shattered frames, look around you with fearless reliance; you will see a friend in every beholder, you will find a sympathizer in every auditor.
It ought also, to be remembered, that though the money now gathered will be paid into foreign hands, it is wholly among ourselves it will be expended; it is all and entirely our own by immediate circulation.
Yet — were it not — what is it but a refined species of usury? a hoard lodged beyond all reach of bankruptcy? a store for futurity? exempt from the numerous losses and disappointments of those who mistake the blessing of wealth to consist in its power of selfish appropriation?
Whoever bestows, whether promptly from impulse, or maturely from principle, will alike be content with the recompence of doing good: but in justice, in delicacy to the uncommon objects of this unexampled contribution, we should suggest what cannot fail to pass in their own minds, and anticipate what we cannot doubt will be the result of their restored powers: that those who survive the anarchy by which they are desolated, who live to see their country rescued from its present despotic tyrants, will still be strangers to repose, even at the natal home for which now every earthly sigh is heard, till, with their restituted property, they have cleared their dignity of character from every possible aspersion of calumny, and returned — not to their benefactors — whose accounts, far more nobly, will be settled elsewhere! —— but to the poor of the kingdom at large, that bounty which has sustained them in banishment and woe.
Who is there that can look forward without emotion to the period of their recal and departure? With what blessings and what prayers will their hearts overflow! “Farewell, they will cry, ye friends of the unhappy! ye protectors of the houseless! ye generous rich, who thus benignly have worked for us! Ye patient poor who thus unrepiningly have seen us supported! Blest be your kingdom! Long live your virtuous sovereign? Be heavenly peace your portion! and never may ye know the sorrows of national divisions!”
Yet, to many it may appear, that where so much has been done, nothing more can be required. This is rather a mistake from failure in reflexion than in benevolence. To such, it is sufficient to ask, “Why gave ye at all?”
The answer is obvious; to save a distressed herd of fellow-creatures from want.
And are they less worth saving now, their helplessness, unhappily, being the same? Was the novelty of their appearance and situation a plea more forcible than acquaintance with their merits? than the view of their harmless lives, their inoffensive manners, their patient resignation to the evils of their lot?
But — are we to give, ye cry, for ever?
Ah! rather, and for more generously, reverse the question, and, in their names exclaim, “Must we receive for ever? will the epoch never arrive when our injuries may be redressed, and our sufferings allowed the soft recompence of manifesting our gratitude?”
O happy donors! compare but thus your subjects for murmuring with the feelings of your receivers! and do not, because ye see them, bowed down by adversity, thus lowly grateful for the pittance that grants them bread and covering, imagine them so unlike the human race to which they belong, that sometimes, in bitterness of spirit, they can forbear the piercing recollection of better days; days, when beneficence flourished from their own deeds, when anguish and poverty were relieved by their own hands!
Still a little nearer let us bring reflexion home, and entreat those who having done much, would do no more, to suppose themselves, for a moment only, placed in l’Eglise des Carmes, in Paris, on the 2d of September, 1792, in full sight of the hapless assemblage of this pious fraternity, who there sought sanctuary — not for the crimes they had committed, but for the duty they had discharged to their consciences, not from just punishment of guilt, but from fury against innocence.
Here, then, behold these venerable men, collected in a body, enclosed within walls dedicated to holy offices, bewailing the flagitious actions of their country-men, yet devout, composed, earnest in prayer, and incorruptible in purity.
Now, then, in mental retrospection, witness the unheard-of massacre that ensued! Behold the ruffians that invade the sacred abode, each bearing in his hand some exterminating weapon; in his eye, a more than fiend-like ferocity. Can it be you they seek, ye men of peace? unarmed, defenceless, and sanctuarised within the precincts of your own religious functions! —— Incredible! —
Alas, no! — behold them reviled — chaced — assaulted. They demand their offence? They are answered by staves and pikes. They fly to the altar — to that altar where, so lately, salvation seemed to hang upon their benediction. —
Here, at least, are they not safe? At this sanctified spot will not some reverence revive? some devotion rekindle? Will not the fell instruments of destruction fall guiltless from the shaking hands of their contrite pursuers? Will not remorse seize their inmost souls, and vibrate through the hallowed habitation, in one universal cry of, “O men of God! live yet — so forgive — and pray for us!” — Ah, deadly shame! indelible disgrace! not here, not even here, could compunction or humanity find a friend —
“Would not those white hairs move pity?” —
No! — the murderers dart after them: the pious suppliants kneel — but they rise no more! They pray — and their prayers ascend to heaven, unheard on earth! Groans resound through the vaulted roof — Mangled carcases strew the consecrated ground — derided, while wounded; insulted, while slaughtered — they are cleft in twain — their savage destroyers joy in their cries —— Blood, agony, and death close the fatal scene!
And ye, O ye who hear it, revere the immortal faith that, proof against this consummate barbarity, preferred its most baneful rage, to uttering one deviating word! And then, while your hearts bleed fresh with sympathy, will ye not call out, “O could they have been rescued! had pitying Heaven but spared the final blow, and, snatching them from their dread assassins, cast them, despoiled, forlorn, friendless, on this our happy isle, with what transport would we have welcomed and cherished them! sought balm for their lacerated hearts, and studied to have alleviated their exile, by giving to it every character of a second and endearing home. Our nation would have been honoured by affording refuge to such perfection; every family would have been blessed with whom such pilgrims associated; our domestics would have vied with each other to shew them kindness and respect; our poor would have contributed their mite to assist them; our children would have relinquished some enjoyment to have fed them!”
Let not reflection stop here, nor this merciful regret be unavailing: extend it a little farther, and mark the question to which it leads: can ye, wish this for those who are gone, and not practice it for those who remain? Sufferers in the same cause, bred in the same fa
ith, and firm in the same principles; the banished men now amongst us would have shared a similar fate, if seized upon the same spot. Venerate them, then, O Christians of every denomination, as the representatives of those who have been slain; and let the same generous feeling which would call to life those murdered martyrs, protect their yet existing brethren, and save them, at every risk, and by every exertion, from an end as painful and more lingering; as unnatural, though less violent.
Come forth, then, O ye Females, blest with affluence! spare from your luxuries, diminish from your pleasures, solicit with your best powers; and hold in heart and mind that, when the awful hour of your own dissolution arrives, the wide-opening portals of heaven may present to your view these venerable sires, as the precursors of your admission.
FINIS.
MEMOIRS OF DOCTOR BURNEY
Memoirs of Doctor Burney was first published in 1832, twelve years after he died. Frances Burney decided she wished to release an account of her father’s life as a tribute to him. Charles was a musician, composer and music historian, who produced a well-received translation and adaptation of Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s opera ‘Le Devin du village’ in 1766 at the Drury Lane Theatre. He was an accomplished organist and he wrote much admired harpsichord concertos during his time in London. Doctor Burney’s great project during his lifetime was his General History of Music, which he would release in four volumes between 1776 and 1789. He was determined to write a detailed and comprehensive account of music history, and so travelled extensively through Germany, Italy and the Netherlands to research their contemporary music scenes. Burney was also made a fellow of the Royal Society in the early 1770’s, and in 1796 he published Memoirs and Letters of Metastasio. He maintained a close friendship with the political theorist and philosopher Edmund Burke, and during the later stages of his life, the politician Charles James Fox granted Burney a pension of three hundred pounds.
After Charles’ death, his daughter Frances discovered his manuscript memoir of his life; she determined it was unsuitable to print as it contained content she deemed unfit for public consumption, fearing it might taint the family name. She decided to edit the manuscript before publishing it, but instead she actually chose to compose her own account of her father’s life, free from anything she considered inappropriate or potentially controversial. Doctor Burney had accumulated a vast amount of material for his proposed memoirs, but unfortunately in the name of propriety Frances destroyed nine of the twelve notebooks containing his autobiographical accounts.
Dr. Charles Burney (1726–1814)
CONTENTS
VOLUME I.
ADVERTISEMENT.
PREFACE, OR APOLOGY.
INTRODUCTION.
MEMOIRS OF DOCTOR BURNEY.
CONDOVER.
CHESTER.
SHREWSBURY.
CHARACTER OF LADY TANKERVILLE.
CHESTER.
LONDON.
DR. ARNE.
MRS. CIBBER. —
GARRICK.
THOMSON.
KIT SMART.
DOCTOR ARMSTRONG.
MISS MOLLY CARTER.
QUEEN MAB.
EARL OF HOLDERNESSE.
FULK GREVILLE.
GAMING CLUBS.
NEWMARKET.
BATH.
FULK GREVILLE.
WILBURY HOUSE.
SAMUEL CRISP, ESQ.
MISS FANNY MACARTNEY.
ESTHER.
THE CITY.
LYNN REGIS.
HOLCOMB.
HAUGHTON HALL
RAINHAM.
FELBRIG.
WILLIAM BEWLEY.
LYNN REGIS.
THE GREVILLES.
WILLIAM FRIBBLE, ESQ.
DOCTOR JOHNSON.
MR. BURNEY TO MR. JOHNSON.
LYNN REGIS.
TO MRS. BURNEY.
LONDON.
ESTHER.
PARIS.
LONDON.
GARRICK.
MR. CRISP.
POLAND STREET.
THE GREVILLES.
DR. HAWKESWORTH.
GEORGE COLMAN, THE ELDER.
KIT SMART.
SIR ROBERT AND LADY STRANGE.
MR. CRISP.
INSTALLATION ODE.
HALLEY’S COMET.
GENERAL HISTORY OF MUSIC.
QUEEN’S SQUARE.
CHESINGTON.
THE MUSICAL TOURS.
ENGLISH CONSERVATORIO.
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
MR. HUTTON.
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
JOEL COLLIER.
MR. TWINING.
MR. BEWLEY.
DR. HAWKESWORTH.
CAPTAIN COOKE.
DOCTOR GOLDSMITH.
DOCTOR HAWKESWORTH.
KIT SMART.
QUEEN SQUARE.
OMIAH.
MR. CRISP.
ST. MARTIN’S STREET.
MR. BRUCE.
MEETING THE FIRST
MEETING THE SECOND,
MEETING THE THIRD.
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
MRS. REYNOLDS.
MRS. BROOKES.
MISS REID.
MRS. ORD.
HON. MR. BRUDENEL.
MR. CUTLER.
MR. BARRY.
GARRICK.
VOLUME II.
OMIAH.
CONCERTS.
CONCERT — ABSTRACT FIRST.
CECILIA DAVIES, DETTA LINGLESINA.
AGUJARI, DETTA LA BASTARDELLA.
CONCERT. — EXTRACT THE THIRD.
LA GABRIELLI.
CONCERT. — EXTRACT IV.
CONCERT. — EXTRACT V.
CONCERT. — EXTRACT THE SIXTH.
MRS. SHERIDAN.
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
STREATHAM.
DR. JOHNSON.
DR. JOHNSON AND THE GREVILLES.
PACCHIEROTTI.
LADY MARY DUNCAN.
EVELINA or, “A YOUNG LADY’S ENTRANCE INTO THE WORLD.”
EVELINA, OR, A YOUNG LADY’S ENTRANCE INTO THE WORLD.
STREATHAM.
MR. MURPHY.
MR. CRISP.
MR. BOSWELL.
ANNA WILLIAMS.
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
MR. GARRICK.
1779.
YOUNG CROTCH.
MR. THRALE.
STREATHAM.
MR. BURKE.
MR. GIBBON.
MRS. THRALE.
DR. JOHNSON.
GENERAL PAOLI.
To SAMUEL CRISP, ESQ.,
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
SAM’S CLUB.
BAS BLEU SOCIETIES.
MRS. MONTAGU.
MRS. THRALE.
HON. MISS MONCTON.
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
MRS. REYNOLDS.
MRS. CHAPONE.
SIR WILLIAM WELLER PEPYS.
SOAME JENYNS.
MRS. THRALE.
MRS. DELANY.
MR. CRISP.
To THE MEMORY or SAMUEL CRISP, ESQ.,
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
BACH OF BERLIN.
HAYDN.
EBELING.
PADRE MARTINI.
METASTASIO.
M. BERQUIN.
MM. LES COMTES DE LA ROCHEFAUCAULT.
THE DUC DE LIANCOURT.
BRISSOT DE WARVILLE.
LE DUC DE CHAULNES.
BARRY.
DR. JOHNSON.
MR. BEWLEY.
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
DR. JOHNSON.
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
MRS. DELANY.
MR. BURKE.
1784.
DR. JOHNSON’S CLUB. —
HANDEL’S COMMEMORATION.
FROM THE SAME.
FROM DR. BURNEY’S DEDICATION.
MRS. THRALE.
THE LOCKES.
MRS. DELANY.
To MRS. PHILLIPS.
MR. SMELT.
VOLUME III.
D
R. JOHNSON.
1785.
HOUSE-BREAKING.
MRS. VESEY.
MADAME DE GENUS.
MRS. DELANY.
THE KING AND QUEEN.
WARREN HASTINGS.
STRAWBERRY HILL.
MR. STANLEY.
MR. SMELT.
THE QUEEN.
KEEPER OF THE ROBES.
MR. BURKE,
WINDSOR.
DR. HERSCHEL.
MRS. DELANY.
GEORGE THE THIRD.
WINDSOR.
MR. BOSWELL.
WINDSOR.
1791.
MR. BURKE.
HISTORY OF MUSIC.
1791.
MR. GREVILLE.
MR. AND MRS. SHERIDAN.
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS;
MR. HAYES.
EARL OF ORFORD.
MR. BURKE.
1793.
GENERAL D’ARBLAY.
THE KING AND QUEEN.
MR. BURKE.
FRENCH EMIGRANT CLERGY.
GENERAL D’ARBLAY.
1794.
MR. MASON.
MR. MALONE.
HON. FRED. NORTH.
1795.
MR. ERSKINE.
CAROLINE, PRINCESS OF WALES.
MRS. THRALE PIOZZI.
METASTASIO.
1795.
BOOKHAM.
CAMILLA; OR A PICTURE OF YOUTH.
TO MRS. CREWE.
TO MRS. CREWE.
METASTASIO.
MR. BURKE.
EARL MACARTNEY.
MRS. PHILLIPS.
MRS. CREWE.
DUKE OF PORTLAND.
MR. BURKE.
DR. WARREN.
MRS. CREWE.
LITCHFIELD.
POEM ON ASTRONOMY.
HERSCHEL.
1798.
THE LITERARY CLUB.
CAMILLA COTTAGE.
SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL.
THE KING
HERSCHEL.
MR. SEWARD.
CHELSEA ARMED ASSOCIATION.
CHARLES BURNEY.”
SONG ON THE NAVAL VICTORIES.
1799.
1799.
MRS. CREWE.
DOVER.
1799.
MRS. PHILLIPS.
IN MEMORY OF MRS. SUSANNA ELIZABETH PHILLIPS
1800.
WILLIAM LOCKE, ESQ., JUNIOR.
“C. B.”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 371