VOLUME II.
SUCH, as far as can be gathered, or recollected, was the list of the general home circle of Dr. Burney, on his beginning residence in St. Martin’s street; though many persons must be omitted, not to swell voluminously a mere catalogue of names, where no comment, or memorandum of incident, has been left of them by the Doctor.
But to enumerate the friends or acquaintances with whom he associated in the world at large, would be nearly to ransack the Court Calendar, the list of the Royal Society, of the Literary Club, of all assemblages of eminent artists; and almost every other list that includes the celebrated or active characters, then moving, like himself, in the vortex of public existence.
Chiefly, however, after those already named, stood, in his estimation, Mr. Chamier, Mr. Boone, Dr. Warton, and his brother, Dr. Thomas Warton, Sir Richard Jebb, Mr. Matthias, Mr. Cox, Dr. Lind, and Mr. Planta, of the Museum.
OMIAH.
At the end of the year 1775, the Doctor’s eldest son, Captain James Burney, who, on board the Cerberus, had convoyed General Burgoyne to America, obtained permission from the Admiralty to return home, in order to again accompany Captain Cooke in a voyage round the world; the second circumnavigation of the young Captain; the third, and unhappily the last, of the great Captain Cooke.
Omiah, whom they were to restore to his country and friends, came now upon a leave-taking visit to the family of his favourite Captain Burney.
Omiah, by this time, had made some proficiency in the English language, and in English customs; and he knew the town so well, that he perambulated it for exercise and for visits, without either interpreter or guide.
But he owed quite as much assistance to attitude and gesture, for making himself understood, as to speech, for in that he was still, at times, quite unintelligible. To dumb shew he was probably familiar, the brevity and paucity of his own dialect making it necessarily a principal source of communication at Ulitea and at Otaheite. What he knew of English he must have caught instinctively and mechanically, as it is caught by children; and, it may be, only the faster from having his attention unencumbered with grammatical difficulties, or orthographical contrarieties: yesterday served for the past, in all its distances: to-morrow, for the future, in all its dependences.
The King allowed him a handsome pension, upon which he lived perfectly at ease, and very happily: and he entertained, in return, as gratefully loyal a devotion to his Majesty as if he had been a native born subject.
He was very lively, yet gentle; and even politely free from any forwardness or obtrusion; holding back, and keeping silent, when not called into notice, with as much delicacy and reserve, as any well-bred European. And his confidence in the benevolence and honour of the strangers with whom he had trusted his person and his life, spoke a nature as intrepid as it was guileless.
Dr. Burney inquired of him whether he had lately seen the King?
“Yes,” he answered, “Yes. King George bid me, ‘Omy, you go home.’ O! dood man, King George! ver dood man! — not ver bad!”
He then endeavoured, very pleasingly, to discriminate between his joy at returning to his native land, and his grief in quitting England. “Lord Sandwich,” he said, “bid me — Mr. Omy, you two ships: one, two: you go home. Omy make ver fine bow;” which he rose to perform, and with grace and ease; “den Omy say, My lord, ver much oblige!”
The Doctor asked whether he had been at the Opera?
His answer was a violent and ear-jarring squeak, by way of imitating Italian singing. Nevertheless, he said that he began to like it a great deal better than he had done at first.
He now missed Richard, the Doctor’s youngest son, and, upon being told that he was gone to school, clapped his hands, and cried, “O, learn book? ver well.” Then, putting his hands together, and opening and shutting them, to imitate turning over the leaves of a book, he attempted to describe the humour of some school that he had been taken to see. “Boys here;” he cried: “boys there; boys all over. Master call. One boy come up. Do so, — —” muttering a confused jargon to imitate reading. “Not ver well. Ver bad. Master do so!”
He then described the master giving the boy a rap on the shoulder with the book. “Ha! ha! — Boy like ver bad! not ver well. Boy do so;” making wry faces. “Poor boy! not ver dood. Boy ver bad.”
When the Doctor wished to know what he thought of English horses, and the English mode of riding, he answered, “Omy like ver well.” He then tried to expatiate upon riding double, which he had seen upon the high road, and which had much astonished him. “First,” cried he, “go man; so!—” making a motion as if mounting and whipping a horse. “Then here!” pointing behind him; “here go woman! Ha! ha! ha!”
The Doctor asked when he had seen the beautiful Lady Townshend, who was said to desire his acquaintance.
He immediately made a low bow, with a pleased smile, and said, “Ver pret woman, Lady Townshend; not ver nasty. Omy drink tea with Lady Townshend in one, two, tree days. Lord Townshend my friend. Lady Townshend my friend. Ver pret woman, Lady Townshend: ver pret woman Mrs. Crewe: ver pret woman Mrs. Bouverie: ver pret woman, Lady Craven.”
Dr. Burney concurred, and admired his taste. He then said, that when he was invited anywhere they wrote, “Mr. Omy, you come — dinner, tea, supper. — Then Omy go, ver fast.”
Dr. Burney requested that he would favour us with a national song of Ulitea, which he had sung to Lord Sandwich, at Hinchenbrook.
He seemed much ashamed, and unwilling to comply, from a full consciousness now acquired of the inferiority of his native music to our’s. But the family all joined in the Doctor’s wish, and he was too obliging to refuse. Nevertheless, he was so modest, that he seemed to blush alike at his own performance, and at the barbarity of his South Sea Islands’ harmony; and he began two or three times before he could gather firmness to proceed.
Nothing could be more curious, or less pleasing than this singing. Voice he had none; and tune, or air, did not seem to be even aimed at, either by composer or performer. ’Twas a mere queer, wild and strange rumbling of uncouth sounds.
His music, Dr. Burney declared, was all that he had about him of savage.
He took great pains, however, to Englishize the meaning of his ditty, which was laughable enough. It appeared to be a sort of trio, formed by an old woman, a young woman, and a young man: the two latter begin by entertaining each other with praises of their mutual merits, and protestations of their mutual passion; when the old woman enters, and endeavours to allure to herself the attention of the young man; and, as she cannot boast of her personal charms, she is very busy in displaying her dress and decorations, and making him observe and admire her draperies. He stood up to act this scene; and shewed much humour in representing the absurd affectation and languishing grimaces of this ancient enamorata. The youth, next, turning from her with scorn, openly avows his passion for the young nymph: upon which, the affronted antique dame authoritatively orders the damsel away; and then, coming up, with soft and loving smiles, offers herself unreservedly to the young man; saying, to use his own words, “Come — marry me! “The young man starts back, as if from some venomous insect; but, half returning, makes her a reverence, and then humbly begs she will be so good as to excuse him; but, as she approaches to answer, and to coax him, he repels her with derision, and impetuously runs off.
Notwithstanding the singing of Omiah was so barbarous, his action, and the expression of his countenance, was so original, that they afforded great amusement, of the risible kind, to the Doctor and his family, who could not finally part from him without much regret; so gentle, so ingenuous, so artless, and so pleasing had been his conduct and conversation in his frequent visits to the house; nor did he, in return, finally quit them without strong symptoms even of sadness.
In the February of the ensuing year, 1776, Captain Burney set sail, with Captain Cooke and Omiah, on their watery tour.
CONCERTS.
In the private narrative of an historian of the musical art, it
may not be improper to insert some account of the concerts, which he occasionally gave to invited friends and acquaintances at his own house; as they biographically mark his style of life, and the consideration in which he was held by the musical world.
The company was always small, as were the apartments in which it was received; but always select, as the name, fame, and travels of the Doctor, by allowing him a choice of guests, enabled him to limit admission to real lovers of music.
He had never any formal band; though it is probable that there was hardly a musician in England who, if called upon, would have refused his services. But they were not requisite to allure those whom the Doctor wished to please or oblige; and a crowd in a private apartment he thought as inimical to harmony as to conversation.
It was, primarily, to gratify Mr. Crisp that, while yet in Poland-street, he had begun these little musical assemblages; which, in different forms, and with different parties, he continued, or renewed, through life.
The simplicity of the entertainment had, probably, its full share in the incitement to its participation. A request to or from the master of the house, was the sole ticket of entrance. And the urbanity of the Doctor upon these occasions, with the warmth of his praise to excellence, and the candour of his indulgence to failure, made his reception of his visitors dispense a pleasure so unconstrained, so varied, so good-humoured, that his concerts were most sought as a favour by those whose presence did them the most honour.
To style them, however, concerts, may be conferring on them a dignity to which they had not any pretension. There was no bill of fare: there were no engaged subalterns, either to double, or aid, or contrast, with the principals. The performances were promiscuous; and simply such as suited the varying humours and desires of the company; a part of which were always assistants as well as auditors.
Some details of these harmonical coteries, which were written at the moment by this memorialist to Mr. Crisp, will be selected from amongst those which contain characteristic traits of persons of celebrity; as they may more pointedly display their cast and nature, than any merely descriptive reminiscences.
No apology will be pleaded for the careless manner in which these accounts are recorded; Mr. Crisp, as may have been observed in the narrations that have been copied relative to Mr. Bruce, prohibited all form or study in his epistolary intercourse with his young correspondent.
CONCERT — ABSTRACT FIRST.
“To SAMUEL CRISP, ESQ.
“Chesington, Kingston, Surrey.
“Let me now try, my dear Mr. Crisp, if I cannot have the pleasure to make you dolorously repent your inexorability to coming to town. We have had such sweet music! — But let me begin with the company, according to your orders.
“They all arrived early, and staid the whole evening.
“The Baron de Deiden, the Danish ambassador.
“The Baroness, his wife; a sweet woman, indeed; young, pretty, accomplished, and graceful. She is reckoned the finest dilletante performer on the piano-tone in Europe.
“I might he contented, you will perhaps say, to have given her this precedence in England and in Denmark; i.e. in her own country and in our’s: but Europe sounds more noble!
“The Honourable Miss Phipps, who came with her, or rather, I believe, was brought by her, for they are great friends; and Miss Phipps had already been with us in Queen-square. Miss Phipps is a daughter of Lord Mulgrave, and sister to the famous Polar captain. She seems full of spirit and taste.
“Sir James and Lady Lake; Sir Thomas Clarges; Mrs and Miss Ord; and a good many others, agreeable enough, though too tedious to mention, having nothing either striking or odd in them. But the pride of the evening, as neither you, my dear Mr. Crisp, nor Mr. Twining, could be with us, was Mr. HARRIS, of Salisbury, author of the three treatises on Poetry, Music, and Painting; Philosophical Arrangements; Hermes, &c. He brought with him Mrs. Harris, and his second daughter, Miss Louisa, a distinguished lady-musician. Miss Harris, the eldest, a cultivated and high-bred character, is, I believe, with her brother, our minister at Petersburgh.
“Hettina, Mr. Burney, and our noble selves, bring up the rear.
“There was a great deal of conversation previous to the music. But as the party was too large for a general chatterment, every body that had not courage to stroll about and please themselves, was obliged to take up with their next neighbour. What think you, then, of my good fortune, when I tell you I happened to sit by Mr. Harris? and that that so happening, joined to my being at home, — however otherwise insignificant, — gave me the intrepidity to abandon my yea and nay responses, when he was so good as to try whether I could make any other. His looks, indeed, are so full of benignity, as well as of meaning and understanding; and his manners have a suavity so gentle, so encouraging, that, notwithstanding his high name as an author, all fear from his renown was wholly whisked away by delight in his discourse and his countenance.
“My father was in excellent spirits, and walked about from one to another, giving pleasure to all whom he addressed.
“As we had no violins, basses, flutes, &c., we were forced to cut short the formality of any overture, and to commence by the harp. Mr. Jones had a very sweet instrument, with new pedals, constructed by Merlin. He plays very well, and with very neat execution.
“Mr. Burney, then, at the request of the Baroness de Deiden, went to the harpsichord, where he fired away with his usual genius. He first played a Concerto of Schobert’s; and then, as the Baroness would not let him rise, another of my father’s.
“When Mr. Burney had received compliments of the nobility and gentry, my father solicited the Baroness to take his place.
“‘ O no! ‘ she cried, ‘I cannot hear of such a thing! It is out of the question! It would be a figurante to dance a pas seul after Mademoiselle Heinel.’
“However, her animated friend, Miss Phipps, joined so earnestly with my father in entreaty, that, as the Baron looked strongly his sanction to their wishes, she was prevailed upon to yield; which she did most gracefully; and she then played a difficult lesson of Schobert’s remarkably well, with as much meaning as execution. She is, besides, so modest, so unassuming, and so pretty, that she was the general object of admiration.
“When my father went to thank her, she said she had never been so frightened before in her life.
“My father then begged another German composition from her, which he had heard her play at Lord Mulgrave’s. She was going, most obligingly, to comply, when the Baron, in a half whisper, and pointing to my sister Burney, said; ‘ma chére!’
“‘Eh bien oui!’ cried Miss Phipps, in a lively tone, ‘aprés Madame Burney! come Mrs. Burney, pray indulge us.’
“The Baroness, with a pleased smile, most willingly made way; and your Hettina, unaffectedly, though not quite unfluttered, took her seat; and to avoid any air of emulation, with great propriety began with a slow movement, as the Baroness had played a piece of execution.
“For this purpose, she chose your favourite bit of Echard; and I never heard her play it better, if so well. Merlin’s new pedals made it exquisite; and the expression, feeling, and taste with which she performed it, raised a general murmur of applause.
“Mr. Harris inquired eagerly the name of the composer. Every body seemed to be struck, nay enchanted: and charmed into such silence of attention, that if a pin had dropt, it would have caused a universal start.
“I should be ashamed not to give you a more noble metaphor, or simile, or comparison, than a pin; only I know how cheap you hold all attempts at fine writing; and that you will like my poor simple pin, just as well as if I had stunned you with a cannon ball.
“Miss Louisa Harris then consented to vary the entertainment by singing. She was accompanied by Mr. Harris, whose soul seems all music, though he has made his pen amass so many other subjects into the bargain. She has very little voice, either for sound or compass; yet, which is wonderful, she gave us all extreme pleasure; for she sings in so high a style, with such pure
taste, such native feeling, and such acquired knowledge of music, that there is not one fine voice in a hundred I could listen to with equal satisfaction. She gave us an unpublished air of Sacchini’s, introduced by some noble recitative of that delicious composer.
“She declared, however, she should have been less frightened to have sung at a theatre, than to such an audience. But she was prevailed with to give us, afterwards, a sweet flowing rondeau of Rauzzini’s, from his opera of Piramis and Thisbe. She is extremely unaffected and agreeable.
“Then followed what my father called the great gun of the evening, Muthel’s duet for two harpsichords; which my father thinks the noblest composition of its kind in the world.
“Mr. Burney and the Hettina now came off with flying colours indeed; nothing could exceed the general approbation. Mr. Harris was in an ecstacy that played over all his fine features; Sir James Lake, who is taciturn and cold, was surprised even into loquacity in its praise; Lady Lake, more prone to be pleased, was delighted to rapture; the fine physiognomy of Miss Phipps, was lighted up to an animation quite enlivening to behold; and the sweet Baroness de Deiden, repeatedly protested she had never been at so singularly agreeable a concert before.
“She would not listen to any entreaty, however, to play again; and all instrumental music was voted to be out of the question for that night. Miss Louisa Harris then, with great good breeding, as well as good nature, was won by a general call to give us a finale, in a fine bravura air of Sacchini’s, which she sung extremely well, though under evident and real affright.
“There was then a good deal of chat, very gay and pleasing; after which the company went away, in all appearance, uncommonly gratified: and we who remained at home, were, in all reality, the same.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 395