The traveller’s absence lasted five months: he reached Calais on his return in a December so boisterous that for nine days no vessel could cross the Channel; and Fanny relates that, when at length the passage was effected, he was too much exhausted by sea-sickness to quit his berth, and, falling asleep, was carried back to France to encounter another stormy voyage, and a repetition of his sea-sickness, before he finally landed at Dover. The fatigues and hardships of his homeward journey brought on a severe attack of rheumatism, to which he was subject. Fanny and her sisters nursed him, sitting by his bedside, pen in hand, to set down the narrative of his German tour as his sufferings allowed of his dictating it. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered, he went down to Chesington not forgetting to carry his secretaries with him.
During this illness, or a relapse which followed it, the house in Queen Square had to be relinquished from difficulties respecting the title; and Mrs. Burney purchased and fitted up another in a central situation, which was at once more convenient for her husband’s teaching engagements, and more agreeable to him as being nearer to the opera, the theatres, and the clubs. St. Martin’s Street, Leicester Fields, to which the family removed, is now among the most dingy, not to say the most squalid, of London streets; even in 1773, ‘its unpleasant site, its confined air, and its shabby immediate neighbourhood,’ are spoken of as drawbacks requiring compensation on an exchange from the fair and open view of the northern heights, crowned with Caen Woods, which had faced the windows in Bloomsbury. But, apart from the practical advantages before mentioned, the new home was invested with a strong attraction for the incomers in having been once inhabited by a personage whom our astronomical Doctor revered, and taught his children to revere, as ‘the pride of human nature.’ The belief that the house in Queen Square had occasionally been visited by Dean Swift was nothing compared with the certain knowledge that No. 1, St. Martin’s Street, had been the dwelling of Sir Isaac Newton.[[14]] The topmost story was surmounted by an ‘observatory,’ having a leaden roof, and sides composed entirely of small panes of glass, except such parts as were taken up by a cupboard, fireplace and chimney. This structure being much dilapidated when Dr. Burney entered into possession, his first act was to put what he looked on as a special relic of his great predecessor into complete repair. The house itself was sufficiently large for the new tenant’s family, as well as for his books, ‘which now began to demand nearly equal accommodation.’ Having recovered his health, and set his affairs in order, the Doctor next resumed his daily round of lessons, and applied himself to remedy any injury which his professional connection had sustained from his two prolonged absences on the Continent. His pen was laid aside for a time, but the German Tour was published before the end of this year, and proved very successful. About the same time, its author was elected a fellow of the Royal Society. The first volume of his ‘History of Music’—in which work the main part of both his Tours was incorporated—did not appear till 1776. We are now arrived at the time when our heroine has attained majority. Her womanhood may be said to have commenced with the removal to St. Martin’s Street. In our next chapter we shall see how the first portion of it was spent.
[1]. Owen and Blakeway’s ‘History of Shrewsbury,’ vol. ii., p. 388.
[2]. Actress and singer; married Theophilus Cibber, son of Colley Cibber. She was a special favorite with Handel, who wrote much of his contralto music for her. In the latter part of her career she was associated with Garrick at Drury Lane. Born, 1714; died, 1766.
[3]. This lady wrote verses, and acquired some repute by a poem entitled ‘A Prayer for Indifference.’
[4]. ‘Memoirs of Dr. Burney, by his Daughter, Madame d’Arblay,’ 1832.
[5]. Author of a didactic poem, ‘The Art of Preserving Health.’
[6]. Born at Lynn, December 4, 1756; LL.D. Aberdeen, 1792; vicar of Deptford, prebendary of Lincoln, chaplain to the King; died 1817.
[7]. The writer seems to have had in view the lines of Pope: