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Checkpoint Solutions
Checkpoint for Section 6.1
6.1 Yes, but not nested
6.2 submit and reset
6.3 <input type="reset" value="let me start over">
6.4 <input type="submit" value ="send it off!">
6.5 <html>
<head>
<title>Checkpoint 6.5</title>
</head>
<body>
<form name = "problems" method = "post" action =
"mailto:john.doc@nowhere.com" enctype = "text/plain">
</form>
</body>
</html>
6.6 A CGI script is a program that tells the computer what to do with form data that is sent to it. It is
stored on a web server, in a cgi-bin folder.
Checkpoint for Section 6.2
6.7 All the names are different. For a radio button group to work, each button must have the same name as
the others.
6.8 function checkIt()
{ document.getElementById("agree").checked = true }
6.9 Textboxes can only have widths configured; textarea boxes can be set to however many rows
and columns are desired.
6.10
<html><head><title>Checkpoint 6.10</title>
<script>
function firstName(name)
{
var fname = document.getElementById(name).value;
document.getElementById('f_name').innerHTML = fname;
}
function lastName(name)
{
var lname = document.getElementById(name).value;
document.getElementById('l_name').innerHTML = lname;
}
</script>
</head>
<body>
<p>Enter your first name:<br />
<input type="text" name="firstname" size = "30" maxlength = "28"
id="firstname">
<input type ="button" onclick="firstName('firstname')" value =
"ok"></button></p>
<p>Enter your last name:<br />
<input type="text" name="lastname" size = "30" maxlength = "29"
id="lastname">
<input type ="button" onclick="lastName('lastname')" value =
"ok"></button></p>
<h3>Your first name: <span id = "f_name"> </span> </h3>
<h3>Your last name: <span id = "l_name"> </span> </h3>
</body></html>
6.11
<form name="myform" method="post" enctype="text/plain" action =
"mailto:lily.field@flowers.net?Here is the requested
information&cc=henry.higgins@flowers.net">
6.12 Each control in the email is identified by its name. The user's selection is listed by the form
control's value.
Checkpoint for Section 6.3
6.13 answers will vary
6.14 add to web page <body>:
<input type ="hidden" name ="sides" id ="sides" value = "add lemon wedge
with salmon, ketchup with fries, dressing with salad " />
6.15 middle = username.substr(4,2);
6.16 var nameLength = username.length;
endChar = username.substr((nameLength – 1), 1);
6.17
<script>
function showWord(pword)
{
var username = document.getElementById(pword).value;
var nameLength = username.length;
var charOne = username.substr(0,1);
var charEnd = username.substr((nameLength - 1),1);
var middleLength = nameLength - 2;
var middle = "";
for (i = 0; i <= middleLength; i++)
middle = middle + "*";
var word = charOne + middle + charEnd;
alert(word);
}
</script>
</head>
<body>
<h3> Enter a password in the box below. </h3>
<p><input type="password" name="user_pwrd" id="passwrd" size =
""/>
<input type ="button" onclick="showWord('passwrd')" value =
"ok"></button></p>
</body>
6.18
<script>
function checkAmp(pword)
{
var checkSpecial = false;
var pword = document.getElementById(pword).value;
var nameLength = pword.length;
for (i = 1; i <= (nameLength - 1); i++)
{
if (pword.charCodeAt(i) == 38)
checkSpecial = true;
}
if (checkSpecial == false)
alert("You don't have an ampersand (&) in your password.");
else
alert("Ampersand (&) found!");
}
</script>
</head>
<body>
<h3> Enter a password in the box below. </h3>
<p><input type="password" name="user_pwrd" id="passwrd" size = ""/>
<input type ="button" onclick="checkAmp('passwrd')" value =
"ok"></button></p>
</body>
Checkpoint for Section 6.4
6.19 size
6.20 multiple
6.21 size = "1"
6.22 answers will vary
6.23 answers will vary
6.24
<select multiple = "multiple" name="cars" size = "2" id="cars">
<option>Ford</option>
<option>Chevrolet</option>
<option>Kia</option>
<option>Lexus</option>
<option>Mercedes Benz</option>
<option>Honda</option>
</select>
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exclusively, in seeking who should be earliest in importing from
London what was newest and most fashionable in attire; or in vying
with each other in giving and receiving splendid repasts; and in
struggling to make their every rotation become more and more
luxurious.
By no means was this love of frippery, or feebleness of character
among the females, peculiar to Lynn: such, ALMOST[12] universally,
is the inheritance bequeathed from mother to daughter in small
towns at a distance from the metropolis; where there are few
suspensive subjects or pursuits of interest, ambition, or literature,
that can enlist either imagination or instruction into conversation.
That men, when equally removed from the busy turmoils of cities, or
the meditative studies of retirement, to such circumscribed spheres,
should manifest more vigour of mind, may not always be owing to
possessing it; but rather to their escaping, through the calls of
business, that inertness which casts the females upon themselves:
for though many are the calls more refined than those of business,
there are few that more completely do away with insignificancy.
In the state, however, in which Lynn then was found, Lynn will be
found no longer. The tide of ignorance is turned; and not there
alone, nor alone in any other small town, but in every village, every
hamlet, nay, every cottage in the kingdom; and though mental
cultivation is as slowly gradual, and as precarious of circulation, as
Genius, o’erleaping all barriers, and disdaining all auxiliaries, is rapid
and decisive, still the work of general improvement is advancing so
universally, that the dark ages which are rolling away, would soon be
lost even to man’s joy at their extirpation, but for the retrospective
and noble services of the press, through which their memory—if only
to be blasted—must live for ever.
There were two exceptions, nevertheless, to this stagnation of
female merit, that were flowing with pellucid clearness.
The first, Mrs. Stephen Allen, has already been mentioned. She was
the wife of a wine-merchant of considerable fortune, and of a very
worthy character. She was the most celebrated beauty of Lynn, and
might have been so of a much larger district, for her beauty was
high, commanding, and truly uncommon: and her understanding
bore the same description. She had wit at will; spirits the most
vivacious and entertaining; and, from a passionate fondness for
reading, she had collected stores of knowledge which she was
always able, and “nothing loath” to display; and which raised her to
as marked a pre-eminence over her townswomen in literary
acquirements, as she was raised to exterior superiority from her
personal charms.
The other exception, Miss Dorothy Young, was of a different
description. She was not only denied beauty either of face or person,
but in the first she had various unhappy defects, and in the second
she was extremely deformed.
Here, however, ends all that can be said in her disfavour; for her
mind was the seat of every virtue that occasion could call into use;
and her disposition had a patience that no provocation could even
momentarily subdue; though her feelings were so sensitive, that
tears started into her eyes at every thing she either saw or heard of
mortal sufferings, or of mortal unkindness—to any human creature
but herself.
It may easily be imagined that this amiable Dorothy Young, and the
elegant and intellectual Mrs. Allen, were peculiar and deeply
attached friends.
When a professional call brought Mr. Burney and his wife to this
town, that accomplished couple gave a new zest to rational, as well
as a new spring to musical, society. Mr. Burney, between business
and conviviality, immediately visited almost every house in the
county; but his wife, less easily known, because necessarily more
domestic, began her Lynn career almost exclusively with Mrs. Allen
and Dolly Young, and proved to both an inestimable treasure; Mrs.
Allen generously avowing that she set up Mrs. Burney as a model for
her own mental improvement; and Dolly Young becoming
instinctively the most affectionate, as well as most cultivated of Mrs.
Burney’s friends; and with an attachment so fervent and so sincere,
that she took charge of the little family upon every occasion of its
increase during the nine or ten years of the Lynn residence.[13]
With regard to the extensive neighbourhood, Mr. Burney had soon
nothing left to desire in hospitality, friendship, or politeness; and
here, as heretofore, he scarcely ever entered a house upon terms of
business, without leaving it upon those of intimacy.
The first mansions to which, naturally, his curiosity pointed, and at
which his ambition aimed, were those two magnificent structures
which stood loftily pre-eminent over all others in the county of
Norfolk, Holcomb and Haughton; though neither the nobleness of
their architecture, the grandeur of their dimensions, nor the vast
expense of their erection, bore any sway in their celebrity, that could
compare with what, at that period, they owed to the arts of
sculpture and of painting.
HOLCOMB.
At Holcomb, the superb collection of statues, as well as of pictures,
could not fail to soon draw thither persons of such strong native
taste for all the arts as Mr. Burney and his wife; though, as there
were, at that time, which preceded the possession of that fine
mansion by the Cokes, neither pupils nor a Male chief, no intercourse
beyond that of the civilities of reception on a public day, took place
with Mr. Burney and the last very ancient lady of the house of
Leicester, to whom Holcomb then belonged.
HAUGHTON HALL.
boasted, at that period, a collection of pictures that not only every
lover of painting, but every British patriot in the arts, must lament
that it can boast no longer.[14]
It had, however, in the heir and grandson of its founder, Sir Robert
Walpole, first Earl of Orford, a possessor of the most liberal cast; a
patron of arts and artists; munificent in promoting the prosperity of
the first, and blending pleasure with recompense to the second, by
the frank equality with which he treated all his guests; and the ease
and freedom with which his unaffected good-humour and good
sense cheered, to all about him, his festal board.
Far, nevertheless, from meriting unqualified praise was this noble
peer; and his moral defects, both in practice and example, were as
dangerous to the neighbourhood, of which he ought to have been
the guide and protector, as the political corruption of his famous
progenitor, the statesman, had been hurtful to probity and virtue, in
the courtly circles of his day, by proclaiming, and striving to bring to
proof, his nefarious maxim, “that every man has his price.”
At the head of Lord Orford’s table was placed, for the reception of
his visitors, a person whom he denominated simply “Patty;” and that
so unceremoniously, that all the most intimate of his associates
addressed her by the same free appellation.
Those, however, if such there were, who might conclude from this
degrading familiarity, that the Patty of Lord Orford was “every body’s
Patty,” must soon have been undeceived, if tempted to make any
experiment upon such a belief. The peer knew whom he trusted,
though he rewarded not the fidelity in which he confided; but the
fond, faulty Patty loved him with a blindness of passion, that hid
alike from her weak perceptions, her own frailties, and his
seductions.
In all, save that blot, which, on earth, must to a female be ever
indelible, Patty was good, faithful, kind, friendly, and praise-worthy.
The table of Lord Orford, then commonly called Arthur’s Round
Table, assembled in its circle all of peculiar merit that its
neighbourhood, or rather that the county produced, to meet there
the great, the renowned, and the splendid, who, from their various
villas, or the metropolis, visited Haughton Hall.
Mr. Burney was soon one of those whom the penetrating peer
selected for a general invitation to his repasts; and who here, as at
Wilbury House, formed sundry intimacies, some of which were
enjoyed by him nearly through life. Particularly must be mentioned
Mr. Hayes, who was a scholar, a man of sense, and a passionate
lover of books and of prints. He had a great and pleasant turn for
humour, and a fondness and facility for rhyming so insatiable and
irrepressible, that it seemed, like Strife in Spencer’s Faerie Queene,
to be always seeking occasion.
Yet, save in speaking of that propensity, Strife and John Hayes ought
never to come within the same sentence; for in character,
disposition, and conduct, he was a compound of benevolence and
liberality.
There was a frankness of so unusual a cast, and a warmth of
affection, that seemed so glowing from the heart, in Mr. Hayes for
Lord Orford; joined to so strong a resemblance in face and feature,
that a belief, if not something beyond, prevailed, that Mr. Hayes was
a natural son of Sir Robert Walpole, the first Earl of Orford, and,
consequently, a natural uncle of his Lordship’s grandson.
RAINHAM.
To name the several mansions that called for, or welcomed, Mr.
Burney, would almost be to make a Norfolk Register. At Rainham
Castle he was full as well received by its master, General Lord
Townshend, as a guest, as by its lady, the Baroness de Frerrars in
her own right, for an instructor; the lady being natively cold and
quiet, though well bred and sensible; while the General was warm-
hearted, witty, and agreeable; and conceived a liking for Mr. Burney,
that was sustained, with only added regard, through all his lordship’s
various elevations.
FELBRIG.
But there was no villa to which he resorted with more certainty of
finding congenial pleasure, than to Felbrig, where he began an
acquaintance of highest esteem and respect with Mr. Windham,
father of the Right Honourable Privy Counsellor and orator; with
whom, also, long afterwards, he became still more closely
connected; and who proved himself just the son that so erudite and
elegant a parent would have joyed to have reared, had he lived to
behold the distinguished rank in the political and in the learned
world to which that son rose; and the admiration which he excited,
and the pleasure which he expanded in select society.
WILLIAM BEWLEY.
A name next comes forward that must not briefly be glided by; that
of William Bewley; a man for whom Mr. Burney felt the most
enlightened friendship that the sympathetic magnetism of similar
tastes, humours, and feelings, could inspire.
Mr. Bewley was truly a philosopher, according to the simplest,
though highest, acceptation of that word; for his love of wisdom was
of that unsophisticated species, that regards learning, science, and
knowledge, with whatever delight they may be pursued abstractedly,
to be wholly subservient, collectively, to the duties and practice of
benevolence.
To this nobleness of soul, which made the basis of his character, he
superadded a fund of wit equally rare, equally extraordinary: it was a
wit that sparkled from the vivid tints of an imagination as pure as it
was bright; untarnished by malice, uninfluenced by spleen,
uninstigated by satire. It was playful, original, eccentric: but the
depth with which it could have cut, and slashed, and pierced around
him, would never have been even surmised, from the urbanity with
which he forbore making that missile use of its power, had he not
frequently darted out its keenest edge in ridicule against himself.
And not alone in this personal severity did he resemble the self-
unsparing Scarron; his outside, though not deformed, was peculiarly
unfortunate; and his eyes, though announcing, upon examination,
something of his mind, were ill-shaped, and ill set in his head, and
singularly small; and no other feature parried this local
disproportion; for his mouth, and his under-jaw, which commonly
hung open, were displeasing to behold.
The first sight, however, which of so many is the best, was of Mr.
Bewley, not only the worst, but the only bad; for no sooner, in the
most squeamish, was the revolted eye turned away, than the
attracted ear, even of the most fastidious, brought it back, to listen
to genuine instruction conveyed through unexpected pleasantry.
This original and high character, was that of an obscure surgeon of
Massingham, a small town in the neighbourhood of Haughton Hall.
He had been brought up with no advantages, but what laborious toil
had worked out of native abilities; and he only subsisted by the
ordinary process of rigidly following up the multifarious calls to
which, in its provincial practice, his widely diversified profession is
amenable.
Yet not wholly in “the desert air,” were his talents doomed to be
wasted: they were no sooner spoken of at Haughton Hall, than the
gates of that superb mansion were spontaneously flung open, and
its Chief proved at once, and permanently remained, his noble
patron and kind friend.
LYNN REGIS.
The visits of Mr. Burney to Massingham, and his attachment to its
philosopher, contributed, more than any other connection, to
stimulate that love and pursuit of knowledge, that urge its votaries
to snatch from waste or dissipation those fragments of time, which,
by the general herd of mankind, are made over to Lethe, for
reading; learning languages; composing music; studying sciences;
fathoming the theoretical and mathematical depths of his own art;
and seeking at large every species of intelligence to which either
chance or design afforded him any clew.
As he could wait upon his country pupils only on horseback, he
purchased a mare that so exactly suited his convenience and his
wishes, in sure-footedness, gentleness and sagacity, that she soon
seemed to him a part of his family: and the welfare and comfort of
Peggy became, ere long, a matter of kind interest to all his house.
On this mare he studied Italian; for, obliged to go leisurely over the
cross roads with which Norfolk then abounded, and which were
tiresome from dragging sands, or dangerous from deep ruts in clay,
half his valuable time would have been lost in nothingness, but for
his trust in Peggy; who was as careful in safely picking her way, as
she was adroit in remembering from week to week whither she was
meant to go.
Her master, at various odd moments, and from various opportunities,
had compressed, from the best Italian Dictionaries, every word of
the Italian language into a small octavo volume; and from this in one
pocket, and a volume of Dante, Petrarch, Tasso, Ariosto, or
Metastasio, in another, he made himself completely at home in that
language of elegance and poetry.
His common-place book, at this period, rather merits the appellation
of uncommon, from the assiduous research it manifests, to illustrate
every sort of information, by extracts, abstracts, strictures, or
descriptions, upon the almost universality of subject-matter which it
contains.
It is without system or method; he had no leisure to put it into
order; yet it is possible, he might owe to his familiar recurrence to
that desultory assemblage of unconcocted materials, the general and
striking readiness with which he met at once almost every topic of
discourse.
This manuscript of scraps, drawn from reading and observation,
was, like his Italian Dictionary, always in his great-coat pocket, when
he travelled; so that if unusually rugged roads, or busied haste,
impeded more regular study, he was sure, in opening promiscuously
his pocket collection of odds and ends, to come upon some remark
worth weighing; some point of science on which to ruminate; some
point of knowledge to fix in his memory; or something amusing,
grotesque, or little known, that might recreate his fancy.
THE GREVILLES.
Meanwhile, he had made too real an impression on the affections of
his first friends, to let absence of sight produce absence of mind.
With Mr. and Mrs. Greville he was always in correspondence; though,
of course, neither frequently nor punctually, now that his
engagements were so numerous, his obligations to fulfil them so
serious, and that his own fireside was so bewitchingly in harmony
with his feelings, as to make every moment he passed away from it
a sacrifice.
He expounds his new situation and new devoirs, in reply to a letter
that had long been unanswered, of Mr. Greville’s, from the
Continent, with a sincerity so ingenuous that, though it is in rhyme,
it is here inserted biographically.
“TO FULK GREVILLE, ESQ., AT PARIS.
“Hence, ‘loathed business,’ which so long
Has plunged me in the toiling throng.
Forgive, dear Sir! and gentle Madam!
A drudging younger son of Adam,
Who’s forc’d from morn to night to labor
Or at the pipe, or at the tabor:
Nor has he hope ’twill e’er be o’er
Till landed on some kinder shore;
Some more propitious star, whose rays
Benign, may cheer his future days.
Ah, think for rest how he must pant
Whose life’s the summer of an ant!
With grief o’erwhelm’d, the wretched Abel[15]
Is dumb as architect of Babel.
—Three months of sullen silence—seem
With black ingratitude to teem;
As if my heart were made of stone
Which kindness could not work upon;
Or benefits e’er sit enshrin’d
Within the precincts of my mind.
But think not so, dear Sir! my crime
Proceeds alone from want of time.
No more a giddy youth, and idle,
Without a curb, without a bridle,
Who frisk’d about like colt unbroke,
And life regarded as a joke.—
No!—different duties now are mine;
Nor do I at my cares repine:
With naught to think of but myself
I little heeded worldly pelf;
But now, alert I act and move
For others whom I better love.
Should you refuse me absolution,
Condemning my new institution,
’Twould chill at once my heart and zeal
For this my little commonweal.—
O give my peace not such a stab!
Nor slay—as Cain did—name-sake Nab.
This prologue first premis’d in hopes
This prologue first premis d, in hopes
Such figures, metaphors, and tropes
For pardon will not plead in vain,
We’ll now proceed in lighter strain.
The epistle then goes on to strictures frank and honest, though
softened off by courteous praise and becoming diffidence, on a
manuscript poem of Mr. Greville’s, that had been confidentially
transmitted to Lynn, for the private opinion and critical judgment of
Mr. Burney.
Mr. Greville, now, was assuming a new character—that of an author;
and he printed a work which he had long had in agitation, entitled
“Maxims, Characters, and Reflections, Moral, Serious, and
Entertaining;” a title that seemed to announce that England, in its
turn, was now to produce, in a man of family and fashion, a La
Bruyere, or a La Rochefoucaul. And Mr. Greville, in fact, waited for a
similar fame with dignity rather than anxiety, because with
expectation unclogged by doubt.
With Mrs. Greville, also, Mr. Burney kept up an equal, or more than
equal, intercourse, for their minds were invariably in unison.
The following copy remains of a burlesque rhyming billet-doux,
written by Mr. Burney in his old dramatic character of Will Fribble,
and addressed to Mrs. Greville in that of Miss Biddy Bellair, upon her
going abroad.
“WILLIAM FRIBBLE, ESQ.
“TO HER WHO WAS ONCE MISS BIDDY BELLAIR.
“Greeting.
“No boisterous hackney coachman clown,
No frisky fair nymph of the town
E’er wore so insolent a brow
As Captain Flash, since Hymen’s vow
To him in silken bonds has tied
So sweet, so fair, so kind a bride.
Well! curse me, now, if I can bear it!—
Though to his face I’d not declare it—
To think that you should take a dance
With such a roister into France;
And leave poor Will in torturing anguish
To sigh and pine, to grieve and languish.
’Twas—let me tell you, Ma’am—quite cruel!
Though Jack and I shall fight a duel
If ever he to England come
And does not skulk behind a drum.
But—apropos to coming over,
I hope you soon will land at Dover
That I may fly, more swift than hawk,
With you to have some serus talk.
The while, how great will be my bliss
Should you but deign to let me kiss—
O may these ardent vows prevail!—
Your little finger’s vermeil nail!
Who am,
Till direful death to dust shall crumble,
My dearest cretur! yours,
most humble,
“Will Fribble.”
Mrs. Greville, too, had commenced being an author; but without
either the throes of pain or the joys of hope. It was, in fact, a burst
of genius emanating from a burst of sorrow, which found an
alleviating vent in a supplication to Indifference.
This celebrated ode was no sooner seen than it was hailed with a
blaze of admiration, that passed first from friend to friend; next from
newspapers to magazines; and next to every collection of fugitive
pieces of poetry in the English language.[16]
The constant friendship that subsisted between this lady and Mr.
Burney bad been cemented after his marriage, by the grateful
pleasure with which he saw his chosen partner almost instantly
included in it by a triple bond. The quick-sighted, and quick-feeling
author of that sensitive ode, needed nor time nor circumstance for
animating her perception of such merit as deserved a place in her
heart; which had not, at that early period, become a suppliant for
the stoical composure with which her wounded sensibility sought
afterwards to close its passage.
She had first seen the fair Esther in the dawning bloom of youthful
wedded love, while new-born happiness enlivened her courage,
embellished her beauty, and enabled her to do honour to the choice
of her happy husband; who stood so high in the favour of Mrs.
Greville, that the sole aim of that lady, in the opening of the
acquaintance, had been his gratification; aided, perhaps, by a
natural curiosity, which attaches itself to the sight of any object who
has inspired an extraordinary passion.
Far easier to conceive than to delineate was the rapture of the
young bridegroom when, upon a meeting that, unavoidably, must
have been somewhat tremendous, he saw the exertions of his lovely
bride to substitute serenity for bashfulness; and read, in the piercing
eyes of Mrs. Greville, the fullest approbation of such native self-
possession.
From that time all inferiority of worldly situation was counteracted by
intellectual equality.[17]
But the intercourse had for several years been interrupted from the
Grevilles living abroad. It was renewed, however, upon their return
to England; and the Burneys, with their eldest daughter,[18] visited
Wilbury House upon every vacation that allowed time to Mr. Burney
for the excursion. And every fresh meeting increased the zest for
another. They fell into the same train of observation upon
characters, things, and books; and enjoyed, with the same gaiety of
remark, all humorous incidents, and all traits of characteristic
eccentricity. Mrs. Greville began a correspondence with Mrs. Burney
the most open and pleasantly communicative. But no letters of Mrs.
Burney remain; and two only of Mrs. Greville have been preserved.
These two, however, demonstrate all that has been said of the terms
and the trust of their sociality.[19]
DOCTOR JOHNSON.
How singularly Mr. Burney merited encouragement himself, cannot
more aptly be exemplified than by portraying the genuine ardour
with which he sought to stimulate the exertions of genius in others,
and to promote their golden as well as literary laurels.
Mr. Burney was one of the first and most fervent admirers of those
luminous periodical essays upon morals, literature, and human
nature, that adorned the eighteenth century, and immortalized their
author, under the vague and inadequate titles of the Rambler and
the Idler. He took them both in; he read them to all his friends; and
was the first to bring them to a bookish little coterie that assembled
weekly at Mrs. Stephen Allen’s. And the charm expanded over these
meetings, by the original lecture of these refined and energetic
lessons of life, conduct, and opinions, when breathed through the
sympathetic lips of one who felt every word with nearly the same
force with which every word had been dictated, excited in that small
auditory a species of enthusiasm for the author, that exalted him at
once in their ideas, to that place which the general voice of his
country has since assigned him, of the first writer of the age.
Mr. Bewley more than joined in this literary idolatry; and the works,
the character, and the name of Dr. Johnson, were held by him in a
reverence nearly enthusiastic.
At Haughton, at Felbrig, at Rainham, at Sir A. Wodehouse’s, at Major
Mackenzie’s, and wherever his judgment had weight, Mr. Burney
introduced and recommended these papers. And when, in 1755, the
plan of Dr. Johnson’s Dictionary reached Norfolk, Mr. Burney, by the
zeal with which he spread the fame of that lasting monument of the
Doctor’s matchless abilities, was enabled to collect orders for a
Norfolk packet of half a dozen copies of that noble work.
This empowered him to give some vent to his admiration; and the
following letter made the opening to a connection that he always
considered as one of the greatest honours of his life.[20]
Mr. Burney to Mr. Johnson.
“Sir,
“Though I have never had the happiness of a personal knowledge of you,
I cannot think myself wholly a stranger to a man with whose sentiments I
have so long been acquainted; for it seems to me as if the writer, who
was sincere, had effected the plan of that philosopher who wished men
had windows at their breasts, through which the affections of their hearts
might be viewed.
“It is with great self-denial that I refrain from giving way to panegyric in
speaking of the pleasure and instruction I have received from your
admirable writings; but knowing that transcendent merit shrinks more at
praise, than either vice or dulness at [Pg 120] censure, I shall compress
my encomiums into a short compass, and only tell you that I revere your
principles and integrity, in not prostituting your genius, learning, and
knowledge of the human heart, in ornamenting vice or folly with those
beautiful flowers of language due only to wisdom and virtue. I must add,
that your periodical productions seem to me models of true genius, useful
learning, and elegant diction, employed in the service of the purest
precepts of religion, and the most inviting morality.
“I shall waive any further gratification of my wish to tell you, Sir, how
much I have been delighted by your productions, and proceed to the
business of this letter; which is no other than to beg the favour of you to
inform me, by the way that will give you the least trouble, when, and in
what manner, your admirably planned, and long wished-for Dictionary will
be published? If it should be by subscription, or you should have any
books at your own disposal, I shall beg of you to favour me with six
copies for myself and friends, for which I will send you a draft.
“I ought to beg pardon of the public as well as yourself, Sir, for detaining
you thus long from your useful labours; but it is the fate of men of
eminence to be persecuted by insignificant friends as well as enemies;
and the simple cur who barks through fondness and affection, is no less
troublesome than if stimulated by anger and aversion.
“I hope, however, that your philosophy will incline you to forgive the
intemperance of my zeal and impatience in making these inquiries; as well
as my ambition to subscribe myself, with very great regard,
“Sir, your sincere admirer, and most humble servant,
“Charles Burney.”
“Lynn Regis, 16th Feb. 1755.”
Within two months of the date of this letter, its writer was honoured
with the following answer.
“To Mr. Burney, in Lynn Regis, Norfolk.
“Sir,
“If you imagine that by delaying my answer I intended to shew any
neglect of the notice with which you have favoured me, you will neither
think justly of yourself nor of me. Your civilities were offered with too
much elegance not to engage attention; and I have too much pleasure in
pleasing men like you, not to feel very sensibly the distinction which you
have bestowed upon me.
“Few consequences of my endeavours to please or to benefit mankind,
have delighted me more than your friendship thus voluntarily offered;
which, now I have it, I hope to keep, because I hope to continue to
deserve it.
“I have no Dictionaries to dispose of for myself; but shall be glad to have
you direct your friends to Mr. Dodsley, because it was by his
recommendation that I was employed in the work.
“When you have leisure to think again upon me, let me be favoured with
another letter, and another yet, when you have looked into my Dictionary.
If you find faults, I shall endeavour to mend them: if you find none, I shall
think you blinded by kind partiality: but to have made you partial in his
favour will very much gratify the ambition of,
“Sir,
“Your most obliged
“And most humble servant,
“Sam. Johnson.”
“Gough-square, Fleet-street,
“April 8, 1755.”
A reply so singularly encouraging, demanding “another letter,” and
yet “another,” raised the spirits, and flattered the hopes—it might
almost be said the foresight—of Mr. Burney, with a prospect of future
intimacy, that instigated the following unaffected answer.
“Sir,
“That you should think my letter worthy of notice was what I began to
despair of; and, indeed, I had framed and admitted several reasons for
your silence, more than sufficient for your exculpation. But so highly has
your politeness overrated my intentions, that I find it impossible for me to
resist accepting the invitation with which you have honoured me, of
writing to you again, though conscious that I have nothing to offer that
can by any means merit your attention.
“It is with the utmost impatience that I await the possession of your great
work, in which every literary difficulty will he solved, and curiosity
gratified, at least as far as English literature is concerned: nor am I fearful
of letting expectation rise to the highest summit in which she can
accompany reason.
“From what you are pleased to say concerning Mr. Dodsley, I shall ever
think myself much his debtor; but yet I cannot help suspecting that you
intended him a compliment when you talked of recommendation. Is it
possible that the world should be so blind, or booksellers so stupid, as to
need other recommendation than your own? Indeed, I shall honour both,
world and booksellers, so far as to substitute solicitation in the place of
the above humiliating term.
“Perhaps you will smile when I inform you, that since first the rumour of
your Dictionary’s coming abroad this winter was spread, I have been
supposed to be marvellously deep in politics: not a sun has set since the
above time without previously lighting me to the coffee-house; nor risen,
without renewing my curiosity. But time, the great revealer of secrets, has
at length put an end to my solicitude; for, if there be truth in book men, I
can now, by cunning calculation, foretell the day and hour when it will
arrive at Lynn.
“If, which is probable, I should fix my future abode in London, I cannot
help rejoicing that I shall then be an inhabitant of the same town, and
exulting that I shall then be a fellow citizen with Mr. Johnson; and were it
possible I could be honoured with a small share of his esteem, I should
regard it as the most grateful circumstance of my life. And—shall I add,
that I have a female companion, whose intellects are sufficiently
masculine to enter into the true spirit of your writings, and, consequently,
to have an enthusiastic zeal for them and their author? How happy would
your presence make us over our tea, so often meliorated by your
productions!
“If, in the mean time, your avocations would permit you to bestow a line
or two upon me, without greatly incommoding yourself, it would
communicate the highest delight to
“Sir,
“Your most obedient,
“And most humble servant,
“Chas. Burney.”
“Have you, Sir, ever met with a little French book, entitled, ‘Synonimes
François, par M. l’Abbé Girard?’ I am inclined to imagine, if you have not
seen it, that it would afford you, as [Pg 124] a philologer, some pleasure,
it being written with great spirit, and, I think, accuracy: but I should
rejoice to have my opinion either confirmed or corrected by yours. If you
should find any difficulty in procuring the book, mine is wholly at your
service.”
“Lynn Regis, April 14th, 1755.”
To this letter there was little chance of any answer, the demanded
“another,” relative to the Dictionary, being still due.
That splendid, and probably, from any single intellect, unequalled
work, for vigour of imagination and knowledge amidst the depths of
erudition, came out in 1756. And, early in 1757, Mr. Burney paid his
faithful homage to its author.
“To Mr. Johnson, Gough-square.
“Sir,
“Without exercising the greatest self-denial, I should not have been able
thus long to withhold from you my grateful acknowledgments for the
delight and instruction you have afforded me by means of your admirable
Dictionary—a work, I believe, not yet equalled in any language; for, not to
mention the accuracy, precision, and elegance of the definitions, the
illustrations of words are so judiciously and happily selected as to render it
a repository, and, I had almost said, universal register of whatever is
sublime or beautiful in English literature. In looking for words, we
constantly find things. The road, [Pg 125] indeed, to the former, is so
flowery as not to be travelled with speed, at least by me, who find it
impossible to arrive at the intelligence I want, without bating by the way,
and revelling in collateral entertainment. Were I to express all that I think
upon this subject, your Dictionary would be stript of a great part of its
furniture: but as praise is never gratefully received by the justly deserving
till a deduction is first made of the ignorance or partiality of him who
bestows it, I shall support my opinion by a passage from a work of
reputation among our neighbours, which, if it have not yet reached you, I
shall rejoice at being the first to communicate, in hopes of augmenting
the satisfaction arising from honest fame, and a conviction of having
conferred benefits on mankind: well knowing with how parsimonious and
niggard a hand men administer comfort of the kind to modest merit.
“‘Le savant et ingenieux M. Samuel Johnson, qui, dans l’incomparable
feuille periodique intitulée le Rambler, apprenoit à ses compatriotes à
penser avec justesse sur les matières les plus interessantes, vient de leur
fournir des secours pour bien parler, et pour écrire correctement; talens
que personne, peut être, ne possede dans un degré plus eminent que lui.
Il n’y a qu’une voix sur le succés de l’auteur pour epurer, fixer, et enricher
une langue dont son Rambler montre si admirablement l’abondance et la
force, l’elegance et l’harmonie.’
“Bibliotheque des Savans. Tom. iii. p. 482.
“Though I had constantly in my remembrance the encouragement with
which you flattered me in your reply to my first letter, yet knowing that
civility and politeness seem often to countenance actions which they
would not perform, I could hardly think myself entitled to the permission
you gave me of writing to you again, had I not lately been apprised of
your intention to oblige the admirers of Shakespeare with a new edition of
his works by subscription. But, shall I venture to tell you, notwithstanding
my veneration for you and Shakespeare, that I do not partake of the joy
which the selfish public seem to feel on this occasion?—so far from it, I
could not but be afflicted at reflecting, that so exalted, so refined a genius
as the author of the Rambler, should submit to a task so unworthy of him
as that of a mere editor: for who would not grieve to see a Palladio, or a
Jones, undergo the dull drudgery of carrying rubbish from an old building,
when he should be tracing the model of a new one? But I detain you too
long from the main subject of this letter, which is to beg a place in the
subscription for,
The Right Hon. the Earl of Orford,
Miss Mason,
Brigs Carey, Esq.
Archdale Wilson, Esq.
Richard Fuller, Esq.
“And for, Sir,
“Your most humble, and extremely devoted servant,
“Charles Burney.”
“Lynn Regis,
28th March, 1757.”
It was yet some years later than this last date of correspondence,
before Mr. Burney found an opportunity of paying his personal
respects to Dr. Johnson; who then, in 1760, resided in chambers at
the Temple. No account, unfortunately, remains of this first
interview, except an anecdote that relates to Mr. Bewley.
While awaiting the appearance of his revered host, Mr. Burney
recollected a supplication from the philosopher of Massingham, to be
indulged with some token, however trifling or common, of his
friend’s admission to the habitation of this great man. Vainly,
however, Mr. Burney looked around the apartment for something
that he might innoxiously purloin. Nothing but coarse and necessary
furniture was in view; nothing portable—not even a wafer, the cover
of a letter, or a split pen, was to be caught; till, at length, he had the
happiness to espie an old hearth broom in the chimney corner. From
this, with hasty glee, he cut off a bristly wisp, which he hurried into
his pocket-book; and afterwards formally folded in silver paper, and
forwarded, in a frank, to Lord Orford, for Mr. Bewley; by whom the
burlesque offering was hailed with good-humoured acclamation, and
preserved through life.
LYNN REGIS.
In this manner passed on, quick though occupied, and happy though
toilsome, nine or ten years in Norfolk; when the health of Mr. Burney
being re-established, and his rising reputation demanding a wider
field for expansion, a sort of cry was raised amongst his early friends
to spur his return to the metropolis.
Fully, however, as he felt the flattery of that cry, and ill as, in its
origin, he had been satisfied with his Lynn residence, he had now
experienced from that town and its vicinity, so much true kindness,
and cordial hospitality, that his reluctance to quit them was verging
upon renouncing such a measure; when he received the following
admonition upon the subject from his first friend, and earliest guide,
Mr. Crisp.
“To Mr. Burney.
* * *
“I have no more to say, my dear Burney, about harpsichords: and if you
remain amongst your foggy aldermen, I shall be the more indifferent
whether I have one or not. But really, among friends, is not settling at
Lynn, planting your youth, genius, hopes, fortune, &c., against a north
wall? Can you ever expect ripe, high-flavoured fruit, from such an aspect?
Your underrate prices in the town, and galloping about the country for
higher, especially in the winter—are they worthy of your talents? In all
professions, do you not see every thing that has the least pretence to
genius, fly up to the capital—the centre of riches, [Pg 129] luxury, taste,
pride, extravagance,—all that ingenuity is to fatten upon? Take, then, your
spare person, your pretty mate, and your brats, to that propitious mart,
and,
‘Seize the glorious, golden opportunity,’
while yet you have youth, spirits, and vigour to give fair play to your
abilities, for placing them and yourself in a proper point of view. And so I
give you my blessing.
“Samuel Crisp.”
Mr. Crisp, almost immediately after this letter, visited, and for some
years, the continent.
This exhortation, in common with whatever emanated from Mr.
Crisp, proved decisive; and Mr. Burney fixed at once his resolve upon
returning to the capital; though some years still passed ere he could
put it in execution.
The following are his reflections, written at a much later period,
upon this determination.
After enumerating, with warm regard, the many to whom he owed
kindness in the county of Norfolk, he adds:
“All of these, for nearly thirty miles round, had their houses and tables
pressingly open to me: and, in the town of Lynn, my wife, to all evening
parties, though herself no card player, never failed to be equally invited;
for she had a most delightful turn in conversation, seasoned with
agreeable wit, and pleasing [Pg 130] manners; and great powers of
entering into the humours of her company; which, with the beauty of her
person, occasioned her to receive more invitations than she wished; as
she was truly domestic, had a young family on her hands, and, generally,
one of them at her breast. But whenever we could spend an evening at
home, without disappointing our almost too kind inviters, we had a course
of reading so various and entertaining, in history, voyages, poetry, and, as
far as Chambers’ Dictionary, the Philosophical Transactions, and the
French Encyclopedia, to the first edition of which I was a subscriber, could
carry us, in science, that those tête à tête seclusions were what we
enjoyed the most completely.
“This, of course, raised my wife far above all the females of Lynn, who
were, then, no readers, with the exception of Mrs. Stephen Allen and Dolly
Young. And this congeniality of taste brought on an intimacy of friendship
in these three females, that lasted during their several lives.
“My wife was the delight of all her acquaintance; excellent mother—
zealous friend—of highly superior intellects.
“We enjoyed at Lynn tranquillity and social happiness—”
Here again must be inserted another poetical epistle, written, during
a short separation, while still at Lynn; which shews that, with
whatever fervour of passion he married, he himself was “that other
happy man,” in the words of Lord Lyttleton, who had found “How
much the wife is dearer than the bride.”
“To Mrs. Burney.
“To thee, henceforth, my matchless mate,
My leisure hours I’ll dedicate;
To thee my inmost thoughts transmit,
Whene’er the busy scene I quit.
For thee, companion dear! I feel
An unextinguishable zeal;
A love implanted in the mind,
From all the grosser dregs refined.
Ah! tell me, must not love like mine
Be planted by a hand divine,
Which, when creation’s work was done,
Our heart-strings tuned in unison?
If business, or domestic care
The vigour of my mind impair;
If forc’d by toil from thee to rove,
’Till wearied limbs forget to move,
At night, reclin’d upon thy breast,
Thy converse lulls my soul to rest.
If sickness her distemper’d brood
Let loose,—to burn, or freeze my blood,
Thy tender vigilance and care,
My feeble frame can soon repair.
When in some doubtful maze I stray,
’Tis thou point’st out the unerring way;
If judgment float on wavering wings,
In notions vague of men and things;
If different views my mind divide,
Thy nod instructs me to decide.
My pliant soul ’tis thou can’st bend,
My help! companion! wife! and friend!
When, in the irksome day of trouble
The mental eye sees evils double,
Sweet partner of my hopes and fears!
’Tis thou alone can’st dry my tears.
’Tis thou alone can’st bring relief,
Partner of every joy and grief!
E’en when encompass’d with distress,
Thy smile can every ill redress.
On thee, my lovely, faithful friend,
My worldly blessings all depend:
But if a cloud thy visage low’r, }
Not all the wealth in Plutus’ power, }
Could buy my heart one peaceful hour. }
Then, lodg’d within that aching heart,
Is sorrow’s sympathetic dart.
But when upon that brow, the seat
Of sense refin’d, and beauty sweet,
The graces and the loves are seen,
And Venus sits by Wisdom’s queen;
Pale sadness takes her heavy flight,
And, envious, shuns the blissful sight.
So when the sun has long endur’d
His radiant face to be obscur’d
By baleful mists and vapours dense,
All nature mourns with grief intense:
But the refulgent God of Day
Soon shews himself in bright array;
And as his glorious visage clears,
The globe itself in smiles appears.”
“Lynn, 1753.”
The last act of Mr. Burney in relinquishing his residence in Norfolk,
was drawing up a petition to Lord Orford to allow park-room in the
Haughton grounds, for the rest of its life, to his excellent, faithful
mare, the intelligent Peggy; whose truly useful services he could not
bear to requite, according to the unfeeling usage of the many, by
selling her to hard labour in the decline of her existence.
Lord Orford good-humouredly complied with the request; and the
justly-prized Peggy, after enjoying for several years the most perfect
ease and freedom, died the death of old age, in Haughton Park.
LONDON.
In 1760 Mr. Burney, with his wife and young family, returned to
London; but no longer to the city, which has the peculiar fate, whilst
praised and reverenced by the many who to its noble
encouragement owe their first dawn of prosperity, of being almost
always set aside and relinquished, when that prosperity is effected.
Is it that Fortune, like the sun, while it rises, cold, though of fairest
promise, in the East, must ever, in its more luxuriant splendour, set
in the West?
The new establishment was in Poland-street; which was not then, as
it is now, a sort of street that, like the rest of its neighbourhood,
appears to be left in the lurch. House-fanciers were not yet as
fastidious as they are become at present, from the endless variety of
new habitations. Oxford-road, as, at that time, Oxford-street was
called, into which Poland-street terminated, had little on its further
side but fields, gardeners’ grounds, or uncultivated suburbs.
Portman, Manchester, Russel, Belgrave squares, Portland-place, &c.
&c., had not yet a single stone or brick laid, in signal of intended
erection: while in plain Poland-street, Mr. Burney, then, had
successively for his neighbours, the Duke of Chandos, Lady Augusta
Bridges, the Hon. John Smith and the Miss Barrys, Sir Willoughby
and the Miss Astons; and, well noted by Mr. Burney’s little family, on
the visit of his black majesty to England, sojourned, almost
immediately opposite to it, the Cherokee King.
The opening of this new plan of life, was as successful to Mr. Burney
as its projection had been promising. Pupils of rank, wealth, and
talents, were continually proposed to him; and, in a very short time,
he had hardly an hour unappropriated to some fair disciple.
Lady Tankerville, amongst the rest, resumed her lessons with her
early master, obligingly submitting her time to his convenience, be it
what it might, rather than change her first favourite instructor. Ere
long, however, she resided almost wholly abroad, having attached
herself with enthusiastic fervour to the Princess Amelia, sister to
Frederick the Great of Prussia. The Countess even accepted the
place of Dame d’Atour to that accomplished princess; whose charms,
according to poetical record, banished for a while their too daring
admirer, Voltaire, from the Court of Berlin.
This enterprising Countess retained her spirit of whim, singularity,
and activity, through a long life; for when, many years later, she
returned to her own country, quite old, while Dr. Burney had not yet
reached the zenith of his fame, she again applied to him for musical
tuition; and when he told her, with regret, that his day was
completely filled up, from eight o’clock in the morning; “Come to me,
then,” cried she, with vivacity, “at seven!” which appointment
literally, and twice a week, took place.
All the first friends of Mr. Burney were happy to renew with him their
social intercourse. Mrs. Greville, when in town, was foremost in
eagerly seeking his Esther; and Mr. Greville met again his early
favourite with all his original impetuosity of regard: while their joint
newer friends of Norfolk, Mrs. Stephen Allen and Miss Dorothy Young
in particular, warmly sustained an unremitting communication by
letters: and Lords Orford, Eglinton, and March, General Lord
Townshend, Charles Boone, and many others, sought this enlivening
couple, with an unabating sense of their worth, upon every occasion
that either music or conversation offered, for accepting, or desiring,
admission to their small parties: for so uncommon were the powers
of pleasing which they possessed, that all idea of condescension in
their worldly superiors seemed superseded, if not annihilated, by
personal eagerness to enjoy their rare society.
ESTHER.
Thus glided away, in peace, domestic joys, improvement, and
prosperity, this first—and last! happy year of the new London
residence. In the course of the second, a cough, with alarming
symptoms, menaced the breast of the life and soul of the little circle;
consisting now of six children, clinging with equal affection around
each parent chief.
She rapidly grew weaker and worse. Her tender husband hastened
her to Bristol Hotwells, whither he followed her upon his first
possible vacation; and where, in a short time, he had the extasy to
believe that he saw her recover, and to bring her back to her fond
little family.
But though hope was brightened, expectation was deceived! stability
of strength was restored no more; and, in the ensuing autumn, she
was seized with an inflammatory disorder with which her delicate
and shaken frame had not force to combat. No means were left
unessayed to stop the progress of danger; but all were fruitless!
and, after less than a week of pain the most terrific, the deadly ease
of mortification suddenly, awfully succeeded to the most excruciating
torture.
Twelve stated hours of morbid bodily repose became, from that
tremendous moment of baleful relief, the counted boundary of her
earthly existence.
The wretchedness of her idolizing husband at the development of
such a predestined termination to her sufferings, when pronounced
by the celebrated Dr. Hunter, was only not distraction. But she
herself, though completely aware that her hours now were told, met
the irrevocable doom with open, religious, and even cheerful
composure—sustained, no doubt, by the blessed aspirations of
mediatory salvation; and calmly declaring that she quitted the world
with perfect tranquillity, save for leaving her tender husband and
helpless children. And, in the arms of that nearly frantic husband,
who, till that fatal epoch, had literally believed her existence and his
own, in this mortal journey, to be indispensably one—she expired.
When the fatal scene was finally closed, the disconsolate survivor
immured himself almost from light and life, through inability to
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