CONCERTS.

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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-forte in Europe.

“I might be 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, [2] the eldest, a cultivated and high-bred character, is, I believe, with her brother, our minister at Petersburgh.

“Hettina, [3] 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 the 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; ‘AprÈs, ma chÈre!

“‘Eh bien oui!’ cried Miss Phipps, in a lively tone, ‘aprÈs 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, MÜthel’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.

“But how we wished for our dear Mr. Crisp! Do pray, now, leave your gout to itself, and come to our next music meeting. Or if it needs must cling to you, and come also, who knows but that music, which has

“‘Charms to sooth the savage breast,
To soften rocks, and bend a knotted oak—’

may have charms also, To soften Gout, and Unbend Knotted Fingers?”


Previously to any further perusal of these juvenile narrations, it is necessary to premise, that there were, at this period, three of the most excelling singers that ever exerted rival powers at the same epoch, who equally and earnestly sought the acquaintance and suffrage of Dr. Burney; namely,

Miss Cecilia Davies, detta l’Inglesina,
La Signora Agujari, detta la Bastardella,
And the far-famed Signora Gabrielli.

CECILIA DAVIES, DETTA L’INGLESINA.

Miss Cecilia Davies, during a musical career, unfortunately as brief as it was splendid, had, at her own desire, been made known to Dr. Burney in a manner as peculiar as it was honourable, for it was through the medium of Dr. Johnson; a medium which ensured her the best services of Dr. Burney, and the esteem of all his family.

Her fame and talents are proclaimed in the History of Music, where it is said, “Miss Davies had the honour of being the first English woman who performed the female parts in several great theatres in Italy; to which extraordinary distinction succeeded that of her becoming the first woman at the great opera theatre of London.”

And in this course of rare celebrity, her unimpeachable conduct, her pleasing manners, and her engaging modesty of speech and deportment, fixed as much respect on her person and character, as her singularly youthful success had fastened upon her professional abilities.

But, unfortunately, no particulars can be given of any private performance of this our indigenous brilliant ornament at the house of Dr. Burney; for though she was there welcomed, and was even eager to oblige him, the rigour of her opera articles prohibited her from singing even a note, at that time, to any private party.[4]

The next abstract, therefore, refers to


AGUJARI, DETTA LA BASTARDELLA.

“To Samuel Crisp, Esq.

“My dear Mr. Crisp,

“My father says I must write you every thing of every sort about Agujari, that you may get ready, well or ill, to come and hear her. So pray make haste, and never mind such common obstacles as health or sickness upon such an occasion.

“La Signora Agujari has been nick-named, my father says, in Italy, from some misfortune attendant upon her birth—but of which she, at least, is innocent—La Bastardella. She is now come over to England, in the prime of her life and her fame, upon an engagement with the proprietors of the Pantheon, to sing two songs at their concert, at one hundred pounds a night! My father’s tour in Italy has made his name and his historical design so well known there in the musical world, that she immediately desired his acquaintance on her arrival in London; and Dr. Maty, one of her protectors in this country, was deputed to bring them together; which he did, in St. Martin’s-Street, last week.

“Dr. Maty is pleasing, intelligent, and well bred; though formal, precise, and a rather affected little man. But he stands very high, they say, in the classes of literature and learning; and, moreover, of character and worthiness.

He handed the Signora, with much pompous ceremony, into the drawing-room, where—trumpets not being at hand—he introduced her to my father with a fine flourish of compliments, as a phenomenon now first letting herself down to grace this pigmy island.

This style of lofty grandeur seemed perfectly accordant with the style and fancy of the Signora; whose air and deportment announced deliberate dignity, and a design to strike all beholders with awe, as well as admiration.

She is a handsome woman, of middle stature, and seems to be about twenty-four or twenty-five years of age; with a very good and healthy complexion, becomingly and not absurdly rouged; a well-shaped nose, a well-cut mouth, and very prominent, rolling, expressive, and dyingly languishing eyes.

She was attended by Signor Colla, her maestro, and, as some assert, her husband; but, undoubtedly, her obsequious and inseparable companion. He is tall, thin, almost fiery when conversing; and tolerably well furnished with gesture and grimace; id est, made up of nothing else.

The talk was all in French or Italian, and almost all between the two Doctors, Burney and Maty; we rest, being only auditors, except when something striking was said upon music, or upon some musician; and then the hot thin Italian, who is probably a Neapolitan, jumped up, and started forth into an abrupt rhapsody, with such agitation of voice and manner, that every limb seemed at work almost as nimbly as his tongue.

But la Signora Agujari sat always in placid, majestic silence, when she was not personally addressed.

Signor Colla expressed the most unbounded veneration for il Signor Dottore Borni; whose learned character, he said, in Italy, had left him there a name that had made it an honour to be introduced to un si cÉlebre homme. My father retorted the compliment upon the Agujari; lamenting that he had missed hearing her abroad, where her talents, then, were but rising into renown.

Nevertheless, though he naturally concluded that this visit was designed for granting him that gratification, he was somewhat diffident how to demand it from one who, in England, never quavers for less than fifty guineas an air. To pave, therefore, the way to his request, he called upon Mr. Burney and the Hettina to open the concert with a duet.

They readily complied; and the Agujari, now, relinquished a part of her stately solemnity, to give way, though not without palpably marvelling that it could be called for, to the pleasure that their performance excited; for pleasure in music is a sensation that she seems to think ought to be held in her own gift. And, indeed, for vocal music, Gabrielli is, avowedly, the only exception to her universal disdain.

As Mr. Burney and the Hettina, however, attempted not to invade her excluding prerogative, they first escaped her supercilious contempt, and next caught her astonished attention; which soon, to our no small satisfaction, rose to open, lively, and even vociferous rapture. In truth, I believe, she was really glad to be surprised out of her fatiguing dumb grandeur.

This was a moment not to be lost, and my father hinted his wishes to Dr. Maty; Dr. Maty hinted them to Signor Colla; but Signor Colla did not take the hint of hinting them to La Bastardella. He shrugged, and became all gesticulation, and answered that the Signora would undoubtedly sing to the Signor Dottore Borni; but that, at this moment, she had a slight sore throat; and her desire, when she performed to il Signor Dottore Borni was, si possible, he added, to surpass herself.

We were all horribly disappointed; but Signor Colla made what amends he could, by assuring us that we had never yet known what singing was! “car c’est une prodÊge, Messieurs et Mesdames, que la Signora Agujari.”

My father bowed his acquiescence; and then enquired whether she had been at the opera?

“‘O no;’ Signor Colla answered; ‘she was too much afraid of that complaint which all her countrymen who travelled to England had so long lamented, and which the English call catch-cold, to venture to a theatre.’

“Agujari then condescended to inquire whether il Signor Dottore had heard the Gabrielli?

“‘Not yet,’ he replied; ‘he waited her coming to England. He had missed her in Italy, from her having passed that year in Sicily.’

“‘Ah Diable!’ exclaimed the Bastardini, ‘mais c’est dommage!

“This familiar ‘Diable!’ from such majestic loftiness, had a very droll effect.

“‘Et vous, Signora, l’avez-vous entendue?

“‘O que non!’ answered she, quite bluffly; ‘cela n’est pas possible!

“And we were alarmed to observe that she looked highly affronted; though we could not possibly conjecture why, till Signor Colla, in a whisper, represented the error of the inquiry, by saying, that two first singers could never meet.

“‘True!’ Dr. Maty cried; ‘two suns never light us at once.’

“The Signora, to whom this was repeated in Italian, presently recovered her placid dignity by the blaze of these two suns; and, before she went away, was in such perfect amity with il Signor Dottore, that she voluntarily declared she would come again, when her sore throat was over, and chanter comme il faut.”


CONCERT.—EXTRACT THE THIRD.

“My dear Mr. Crisp,

“My father, now, bids me write for him—which I do with joy and pride, for now, now,thus instigated, thus authorised, let me present to you the triumphant, the unique Agujari!

“O how we all wished for you when she broke forth in her vocal glory! The great singers of olden times, whom I have heard you so emphatically describe, seem to have all their talents revived in this wonderful creature. I could compare her to nothing I have ever heard, but only to what you have heard; your Carestini, Farinelli, Senesino, alone are worthy to be ranked with the Bastardini.

“She came with the Signor Maestro Colla, very early, to tea.

“I cannot deign to mention our party,—but it was small and good:—though by no means bright enough to be enumerated in the same page with Agujari.

“She frightened us a little, at first, by complaining of a cold. How we looked at one another! Mr. Burney was called upon to begin; which he did with even more than his usual spirit; and then—without waiting for a petition—which nobody, not even my dear father, had yet gathered courage to make, Agujari, the Bastardella, arose, voluntarily arose, to sing!

“We all rose too! we seemed all ear. There was no occasion for any other part to our persons. Had a fan,—for I won’t again give you a pin,—fallen, I suppose we should have taken it for at least a thunder-clap. All was hushed and rapt attention.

“Signor Colla accompanied her. She began with what she called a little minuet of his composition.

“Her cold was not affected, for her voice, at first, was not quite clear; but she acquitted herself charmingly. And, little as she called this minuet, it contained difficulties which I firmly believe no other singer in the world could have executed.

“But her great talents, and our great astonishment, were reserved for her second song, which was taken from Metastatio’s opera of Didone, set by Colla, ‘Non hai ragione, ingrato!

“As this was an aria parlante, she first, in a voice softly melodious, read us the words, that we might comprehend what she had to express.

“It is nobly set; nobly! ‘Bravo, il Signor Maestro!’ cried my father, two or three times. She began with a fullness and power of voice that amazed us beyond all our possible expectations. She then lowered it to the most expressive softness—in short, my dear Mr. Crisp, she was sublime! I can use no other word without degrading her.

“This, and a second great song from the same opera, Son Regina, and Son Amante, she sang in a style to which my ears have hitherto been strangers. She unites, to her surprising and incomparable powers of execution, and luxuriant facility and compass of voice, an expression still more delicate—and, I had almost said, equally feeling with that of my darling Millico, who first opened my sensations to the melting and boundless delights of vocal melody.[6] In fact, in Millico, it was his own sensibility that excited that of his hearers; it was so genuine, so touching! It seemed never to want any spur from admiration, but always to owe its excellence to its own resistless pathos.

“Yet, with all its vast compass, and these stupendous sonorous sounds, the voice of Agujari has a mellowness, a sweetness, that are quite vanquishing. One can hardly help falling at her feet while one listens! Her shake, too, is so plump, so true, so open! and, to display her various abilities to my father, she sang in twenty styles—if twenty there may be; for nothing is beyond her reach. In songs of execution, her divisions were so rapid, and so brilliant, they almost made one dizzy from breathless admiration: her cantabiles were so fine, so rich, so moving, that we could hardly keep the tears from our eyes. Then she gave us some accompanied recitative, with a nobleness of accent, that made every one of us stand erect out of respect! Then, how fascinately she condescended to indulge us with a rondeau! though she holds that simplicity of melody beneath her; and therefore rose from it to chaunt some church music, of the Pope’s Chapel, in a style so nobly simple, so grandly unadorned, that it penetrated to the inmost sense. She is just what she will: she has the highest taste, with an expression the most pathetic; and she executes difficulties the most wild, the most varied, the most incredible, with just as much ease and facility as I can say—my dear Mr. Crisp!

“Now don’t you die to come and hear her? I hope you do. O, she is indescribable!

“Assure yourself my father joins in all this, though perhaps, if he had time to write for himself, he might do it more Lady Grace like, ‘soberly.’ I hope she will fill up at least half a volume of his history. I wish he would call her, The Heroine of Music!

“We could not help regretting that her engagement was at the Pantheon, as her evidently fine ideas of acting are thrown away at a mere concert.

At this, she made faces of such scorn and derision against the managers, for not putting her upon the stage, that they altered her handsome countenance almost to ugliness; and, snatching up a music book, and opening it, and holding it full broad in her hands, she dropt a formal courtesy, to take herself off at the Pantheon, and said; ‘Oui! j’y suis lÀ comme une statue! comme une petite ecoliÈre!’ And afterwards she contemptuously added: ‘Mais, on n’aime e guerre ici que les rondeaux!—Moi—j’abhorre ces miseres lÀ!

One objection, however, and a rather serious one, against her walking the stage, is that she limps.

Do you know what they assert to be the cause of this lameness? It is said that, while a mere baby, and at nurse in the country, she was left rolling on the grass one evening, till she rolled herself round and round to a pigstie; where a hideous hog welcomed her as a delicious repast, and mangled one side of the poor infant most cruelly, before she was missed and rescued. She was recovered with great difficulty; but obliged to bear the insertion of a plate of silver, to sustain the parts where the terrible swine had made a chasm; and thence she has been called ... I forget the Italian name, but that which has been adopted here is Silver-sides.

“You may imagine that the wags of the day do not let such a circumstance, belonging to so famous a person, pass unmadrigalled: Foote, my father tells us, has declared he shall impeach the custom-house officers, for letting her be smuggled into the kingdom contrary to law; unless her sides have been entered at the stamp office. And Lord Sandwich has made a catch, in dialogue and in Italian, between the infant and the hog, where the former, in a plaintive tone of soliciting mercy, cries; ‘Caro mio Porco!’ The hog answers by a grunt. Her piteous entreaty is renewed in the softest, tenderest treble. His sole reply is expressed in one long note of the lowest, deepest bass. Some of her highest notes are then ludicrously imitated to vocalize little shrieks; and the hog, in finale, grunts out, ‘Ah! che bel mangiar!

“Lord Sandwich, who shewed this to my father, had, at least, the grace to say, that he would not have it printed, lest it should get to her knowledge, till after her return to Italy.”

The radical and scientific merits of this singular personage, and astonishing performer, are fully expounded in the History of Music. She left England with great contempt for the land of Rondeaux; and never desired to visit it again.


LA GABRIELLI.

Of the person and performance of Gabrielli, the History of Music contains a full and luminous description. She was the most universally renowned singer of her time; for Agujari died before her high and unexampled talents had expanded their truly wonderful supremacy.

Yet here, also, no private detail can be written of the private performance, or manners, of La Gabrielli, as she never visited at the house of Dr. Burney; though she most courteously invited him to her own; in which she received him with flattering distinction. And, as she had the judgment to set aside, upon his visits, the airs, caprices, coquetries, and gay insolences, of which the boundless report had preceded her arrival in England, he found her a high-bred, accomplished, and engaging woman of the world; or rather, he said, woman of fashion; for there was a winning ease, nay, captivation, in her look and air, that could scarcely, in any circle, be surpassed. Her great celebrity, however, for beauty and eccentricity, as well as for professional excellence, had raised such inordinate expectations before she came out, that the following juvenile letters upon the appearance of so extraordinary a musical personage, will be curious,—or, at least, diverting, to lovers of musical anecdote.


CONCERT.—EXTRACT IV.

To Samuel Crisp, Esq.

Chesington.

October, 1775.

“My dear Mr. Crisp,

“‘Tis so long since I have written, that I suppose you conclude we are all gone fortune-hunting to some other planet; but, to skip apologies, which I know you scoff, I shall atone for my silence, by telling you that my dear father returned from Buxton in quite restored health, I thank God! and that his first volume is now rough-sketched quite to the end, Preface and Dedication inclusive.

“But you are vehement, you say, to hear of Gabrielli.

“Well, so is every body else; but she has not yet sung.

“She is the subject of inquiry and discussion wherever you go. Every one expects her to sing like a thousand angels, yet to be as ridiculous as a thousand imps. But I believe she purposes to astonish them all in a new way; for imagine how sober and how English she means to become, when I tell you that she has taken a house in Golden-square, and put a plate upon her door, on which she has had engraven, “Mrs. Gabrielli.”

“If John Bull is not flattered by that, he must be John Bear.

“Rauzzini, meanwhile, who is to be the first serious singer, has taken precisely the other side; and will have nothing to do with his Johnship at all; for he has had his apartments painted a beautiful rose-colour, with a light myrtle sprig border; and has ornamented them with little knic-knacs and trinkets, like a fine lady’s dressing-room.

My father dined with them both the other day, at the manager’s, Mrs. Brookes, the author, and Mrs. Yates, the ci-devant actress. Rauzzini sang a great many sweet airs, and very delightfully; but Gabrielli not a note! Neither did any one presume to ask for such a favour. Her sister was of the party also, who they say cannot sing at all; but Gabrielli insisted upon having her engaged, and advantageously, or refused, peremptorily, to come over.

“Nothing can exceed the impatience of people of all ranks, and all ways of thinking, concerning this so celebrated singer. And if you do not come to town to hear her, I shall conclude you lost to all the Saint Cecilian powers of attraction; and that you are become as indifferent to music, as to dancing or to horse-racing. For my own part, if any thing should unfortunately prevent my hearing her first performance, I shall set it down in my memory ever after, as a very serious misfortune. Don’t laugh so, dear daddy, pray!

Written the week following.

“How I rejoice, for once, in your hard-heartedness! how ashamed I should have been if you had come, dearest Sir, to my call! The Gabrielli did not sing! And she let all London, and all the country too, I believe, arrive at the theatre before it was proclaimed that she was not to appear! Every one of our family, and of every other family that I know,—and that I don’t know besides, were at the Opera House at an early hour. We, who were to enter at a private door, per favour of Mrs. Brookes, rushed past all handbills, not thinking them worth heeding. Poor Mr. Yates, the manager, kept running from one outlet to another, to relate the sudden desperate hoarseness of la Signora Gabrielli; and, supplicate patience, and, moreover, credence,—now from the box openings, now from the pit, now from the galleries. Had he been less active, or less humble, it is thought the theatre would have been pulled down; so prodigious was the rage of the large assemblage; none of them in the least believing that Gabrielli had the slightest thing the matter with her.

“My father says people do not think that singers have the capacity of having such a thing as a cold!

“The murmurs, ‘What a shame!’—‘how scandalous!’—‘what insolent airs!’—kept Mr. Yates upon the alert from post to post, to the utmost stretch of his ability; though his dolorous countenance painted his full conviction that he himself was the most seriously to be pitied of the party; for it was clear that he said, in soliloquy, upon every one that he sent away: ‘There goes half a guinea!—or, at the least, three shillings,—if not five, out of my pocket!’

“We all returned home in horrible ill-humour; but solacing ourselves with a candid determination, taken in a true spirit of liberality, that though she should sing even better than Agujari, we would not like her!

My father called upon the managers to know what all this meant; and Mrs. Brookes then told him, that all that had been reported of the extraordinary wilfulness of this spoilt child of talent and beauty, was exceeded by her behaviour. She only sent them word that she was out of voice, and could not sing, one hour before the house must be opened! They instantly hurried to her to expostulate, or rather to supplicate, for they dare neither reproach nor command; and to represent the utter impossibility of getting up any other opera so late; and to acknowledge their terror, even for their property, upon the fury of an English audience, if disappointed so bluffly at the last moment.

To this she answered very coolly, but with smiles and politeness, that if le monde expected her so eagerly, she would dress herself, and let the opera be performed; only, when her songs came to their symphony, instead of singing, she would make a courtesy, and point to her throat.

“‘You may imagine, Doctor,’ said Mrs. Brookes, ‘whether we could trust John Bull with so easy a lady! and at the very instant his ears were opening to hear her so vaunted performance!’


“Well, my dear Mr. Crisp, now for Saturday, and now for the real opera. We all went again. There was a prodigious house; such a one, for fashion at least, as, before Christmas, never yet was seen. For though every body was afraid there would be a riot, and that Gabrielli would be furiously hissed, from the spleen of the late disappointment, nobody could stay away; for her whims and eccentricities only heighten curiosity for beholding her person.

“The opera was Metastasio’s Didone, and the part for Gabrielli was new set by Sacchini.

“In the first scene, Rauzzini and Sestini appeared with la Signora Francesca, the sister of Gabrielli. They prepared us for the approach of the blazing comet that burst forth in the second.

“Nothing could be more noble than her entrance. It seemed instantaneously to triumph over her enemies, and conquer her threateners. The stage was open to its furthest limits, and she was discerned at its most distant point; and, for a minute or two, there dauntlessly she stood; and then took a sweep, with a firm, but accelerating step; and a deep, finely flowing train, till she reached the orchestra. There she stopt, amidst peals of applause, that seemed as if they would have shaken the foundations of the theatre.

“What think you now of John Bull?

“I had quite quivered for her, in expectation of cat-calling and hissings; but the intrepidity of her appearance and approach, quashed all his resentment into surprised admiration.

“She is still very pretty, though not still very young. She has small, intelligent, sparkling features; and though she is rather short, she is charmingly proportioned, and has a very engaging figure. All her notions are graceful, her air is full of dignity, and her walk is majestic.

“Though the applause was so violent, she seemed to think it so simply her due, that she deigned not to honour it with the slightest mark of acknowledgment, but calmly began her song.

“John Bull, however, enchained, as I believe, by the reported vagaries of her character, and by the high delight he expected from her talents, clapped on,—clap, clap, clap!—with such assiduous noise, that not a note could be heard, nor a notion be started that any note was sung. Unwilling, then,

“To waste her sweetness on the clamorous air,”

and perhaps growing a little gratified to find she could “soothe the savage breast,” she condescended to make an Italian courtesy, i.e. a slight, but dignified bow.

“Honest John, who had thought she would not accept his homage, but who, through the most abrupt turn from resentment to admiration, had resolved to bear with all her freaks, was so enchanted by this affability, that clapping he went on, till, I have little doubt, the skin of his battered hands went off; determining to gain another gentle salutation whether she would or not, as an august sign that she was not displeased with him for being so smitten, and so humble.

“After this, he suffered the orchestra to be heard.

“Gabrielli, however, was not flattered into spoiling her flatterers. Probably she liked the spoiling too well to make it over to them. Be that as it may, she still kept expectation on the rack, by giving us only recitative, till every other performer had tired our reluctant attention.

“At length, however, came the grand bravura, ‘Son Regina, e sono Amante.’

“Here I must stop!—Ah, Mr. Crisp! why would she take words that had been sung by Agujari?

“Opinions are so different, you must come and judge for yourself. Praise and censure are bandied backwards and forwards, as if they were two shuttlecocks between two battledores. The Son Regina was the only air of consequence that she even attempted; all else were but bits; pretty enough, but of no force or character for a great singer.

“How unfortunate that she should take the words, even though to other music, that we had heard from Agujari!—Oh! She is no Agujari!

“In short, and to come to the truth, she disappointed us all egregiously.

However, my dear father, who beyond any body tempers his judgment with indulgence, pronounces her a very capital singer.

“But she visibly took no pains to exert herself, and appeared so impertinently easy, that I believe she thought it condescension enough for us poor savage Islanders to see her stand upon the stage, and let us look at her. Yet it must at least be owned, that the tone of her voice, though feeble, is remarkably sweet; that her action is judicious and graceful, and that her style and manner of singing are masterly.”


CONCERT.—EXTRACT V.

“You reproach me, my dear Mr. Crisp, for not sending you an account of our last two concerts. But the fact is, I have not any thing new to tell you. The music has always been the same: the matrimonial duets are so much À-la-mode, that no other thing in our house is now demanded.

“But if I can write you nothing new about music—you want, I well know you will say, to hear some conversations.

“My dear Mr. Crisp, there is, at this moment, no such thing as conversation. There is only one question asked, meet whom you may, namely; ‘How do you like Gabrielli?’ and only two modes, contradictory to be sure, but very steady, of reply: either, ‘Of all things upon earth!’ or, ‘Not the least bit in the whole world!’

“Well, now I will present you with a specimen, beginning with our last concert but one, and arranging the persons of the drama in the order of their actual appearance.

“But imprimis, I should tell you, that the motive to this concert was a particular request to my father from Dr. King, our old friend, and the chaplain to the British—something—at St. Petersburgh, that he would give a little music to a certain mighty personage, who, somehow or other how, must needs take, transiently at least, a front place in future history,—namely, the famed favourite of the Empress Catherine of Russia, Prince Orloff.

“There, my dear Mr. Crisp! what say you to seeing such a doughty personage as that in a private house, at a private party, of a private individual, fresh imported from the Czarina of all the Russias,—to sip a cup of tea in St. Martin’s-Street?

“I wonder whether future historians will happen to mention this circumstance? I am thinking of sending it to all the keepers of records.

“But I see your rising eyebrow at this name—your start—your disgust—yet big curiosity.

“Well, suppose the family assembled, its honoured chief in the midst—and Tat, tat, tat, tat, at the door.

Enter Dr. Ogle, Dean of Winchester.

Dr. Burney, after the usual ceremonies.—‘Did you hear the Gabrielli last night, Mr. Dean?’

The Dean.—‘No, Doctor, I made the attempt, but soon retreated; for I hate a crowd,—as much as the ladies love it!—I beg pardon!’ bowing with a sort of civil sneer at we Fair Sex.

“My mother was entering upon a spirited defence, when—Tat, tat, tat.

Enter Dr. King.

“He brought the compliments of Prince Orloff, with his Highness’s apologies for being so late, but he was obliged to dine at Lord Buckingham’s, and thence, to shew himself at Lady Harrington’s.

“As nobody thought of inquiring into Dr. King’s opinion of La Gabrielli, conversation was at a stand, till—Tat, tat, tat, tat, too, and

Enter Lady Edgcumbe.

“We were all introduced to her, and she was very chatty, courteous, and entertaining.

Dr. Burney.—‘Your Ladyship was certainly at the Opera last night?’

Lady Edgcumbe.—‘O yes!—but I have not heard the Gabrielli! I cannot allow that I have yet heard her.’

Dr. Burney.—‘Your Ladyship expected a more powerful voice?’

Lady Edgcumbe.—‘Why n-o—not much. The shadow can tell what the substance must be; but she cannot have acquired this great reputation throughout Europe for nothing. I therefore repeat that I have not yet heard her. She must have had a cold.—But, for me—I have heard Mingotti!—I have heard Montecelli!—I have heard Mansuoli!—and I shall never hear them again!’

The Dean.—‘But, Lady Edgcumbe, may not Gabrielli have great powers, and yet have too weak a voice for so large a theatre?’

Lady Edgcumbe.—‘Our theatre, Mr. Dean, is of no size to what she has been accustomed to abroad. But,—Dr. Burney, I have also heard the Agujari!’

Hettina, Fanny, Susanna.—‘Oh! Agujari!’ (All three speaking with clasped hands.)

Dr. Burney (laughing).—‘Your ladyship darts into all their hearts by naming Agujari! However, I have hopes you will hear her again.’

Lady Edgcumbe.—‘O, Dr. Burney! bring her but to the Opera,—and I shall grow crazy!’

“I assure you, my dear Mr. Crisp, we all longed to embrace her ladyship. And she met our sympathy with a good-humour full of pleasure. My father added, that we all doated upon Agujari.

Lady Edgcumbe.—‘O! she is incomparable!—Mark but the difference, Dr. Burney; by Gabrielli, Rauzzini seems to have a great voice;—by Agujari, he seemed to have that of a child.’—

“Tat, tat, tat, tat, too.

Enter The Hon. Mr. and Mrs. Brudenel.

“Mr. Brudenell,[7] commonly called ‘His Honour,’ from high birth, I suppose, without title, or from some quaint old cause that nobody knows who has let me into its secret, is tall and stiff, and strongly in the ton of the present day; which is anything rather than macaroniism; for it consists of unbounded freedom and ease, with a short, abrupt, dry manner of speech; and in taking the liberty to ask any question that occurs upon other people’s affairs and opinions; even upon their incomes and expences;—nay, even upon their age!

“Did you ever hear of any thing so shocking?

“I do not much mind it now; but, when I grow older, I intend recommending to have this part of their code abolished.

“Mrs. Brudenel is very obliging and pleasing; and of as great fame as a lady singer, as Lady Edgcumbe is as a first rate lady player.

“The usual question being asked of La Gabrielli;

“_Mrs. Brudenel._—‘O, Lady Edgcumbe and I are entirely of the same opinion; we agree that we have not yet heard her.’

“_Lady Edgcumbe._—‘The ceremony of her quitting the theatre after the opera is over, is extremely curious. First goes a man in livery to clear the way; then follows the sister; then the Gabrielli herself. Then, a little foot-page, to bear her train; and, lastly, another man, who carries her muff, in which is her lap-dog.’

Mr. Brudenel.—‘But where is Lord March all this time?’

Lady Edgcumbe (laughing).—‘Lord March? O,——he, you know, is First Lord of the Bedchamber!’—

“Tat, tat, tat, tat.

Enter M. le Baron de Demidoff.

“He is a Russian nobleman, who travels with Prince Orloff; and he preceded his Highness with fresh apologies, and a desire that the concert might not wait, as he would only shew himself at Lady Harrington’s, and hasten hither.

“My father then attended Lady Edgcumbe to the Library, and Mr. Burney took his place at the harpsichord.

“We all followed. He was extremely admired; but I have nothing new to tell you upon that subject.

“Then enter Mr. Chamier. Then followed several others; and then

Enter Mr. Harris, of Salisbury.

“Susan and I quite delighted in his sight, he is so amiable to talk with, and so benevolent to look at. Lady Edgcumbe rose to meet him, saying he was her particular old friend. He then placed himself by Susan and me, and renewed acquaintance in the most pleasing manner possible. I told him we were all afraid he would be tired to death of so much of one thing, for we had nothing to offer him but again the duet. ‘That is the very reason I solicited to come,’ he answered; ‘I was so much charmed the last time, that I begged Dr. Burney to give me a repetition of the same pleasure.’

“‘Then—of course, the opera? The Gabrielli?’

“Mr. Harris declared himself her partizan.

“Lady Edgcumbe warmed up ardently for Agajari.

Mr. Dean.—‘But pray, Dr. Burney, why should not these two melodious signoras sing together, that we might judge them fairly?’

Dr. Burney.—‘Oh! the rivalry would be too strong. It would create a musical war. It would be CÆsar and Pompey.’

Lady Edgcumbe.—‘Pompey the Little, then, I am sure would be la Gabrielli!’

Enter Lord Bruce.

“He is a younger brother not only of the Duke of Montagu, but of his Honour Brudenel. How the titles came to be so awkwardly arranged in this family is no affair of mine; so you will excuse my sending you to the Herald’s Office, if you want that information, my dear Mr. Crisp; though as you are one of the rare personages who are skilled in every thing yourself,—at least so says my father;—and he is a Doctor, you know!—I dare say you will genealogize the matter to me at once, when next I come to dear Chesington.

“He is tall, thin, and plain, but remarkably sensible, agreeable, and polite; as, I believe, are very generally all those keen looking Scotchmen; for Scotch, not from his accent, but his name, I conclude him of course. Can Bruce be other than Scotch? They are far more entertaining, I think, as well as informing, taken in the common run, than we silentious English; who, taken en masse, are tolerably dull.

“The Opera?—the Gabrielli?—were now again brought forward. Lady Edgcumbe, who is delightfully music mad, was so animated, that she was quite the life of the company.

“At length—Tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, too!

Enter His Highness Prince Orloff.

“Have you heard the dreadful story of the thumb, by which this terrible Prince is said to have throttled the late Emperor of Russia, Peter, by suddenly pressing his windpipe while he was drinking? I hope it is not true; and Dr. King, of whom, while he resided in Russia, Prince Orloff was the patron, denies the charge. Nevertheless, it is so currently reported, that neither Susan nor I could keep it one moment from our thoughts; and we both shrunk from him with secret horror, heartily wishing him in his own Black Sea.

“His sight, however, produced a strong sensation, both in those who believed, and those who discredited this disgusting barbarity; for another story, not perhaps, of less real, though of less sanguinary guilt, is not a tale of rumour, but a crime of certainty; namely, that he is the first favourite of the cruel inhuman Empress—if it be true that she connived at this horrible murder.

“His Highness was immediately preceded by another Russian nobleman, whose name I have forgot; and followed by a noble Hessian, General Bawr.

“Prince Orloff is of stupendous stature, something resembling Mr. Bruce. He is handsome, tall, fat, upright, magnificent. His dress was superb. Besides the blue garter, he had a star of diamonds of prodigious brilliancy, a shoulder knot of the same lustre and value, and a picture of the Empress hung about his neck, set round with diamonds of such brightness and magnitude, that, when near the light, they were too dazzling for the eye. His jewels, Dr. King says, are estimated at one hundred thousand pounds sterling.

“His air and address are shewy, striking, and assiduously courteous. He had a look that frequently seemed to say, ‘I hope you observe that I come from a polished court?—I hope you take note that I am no Cossack?’—Yet, with all this display of commanding affability, he seems, from his native taste and humour, ‘agreeably addicted to pleasantry.’ He speaks very little English, but knows French perfectly.

“His introduction to my father, in which Dr. King pompously figured, passed in the drawing-room. The library was so crowded, that he could only show himself at the door, which was barely high enough not to discompose his prodigious toupee.

“He bowed to Mr. Chamier, then my next neighbour, whom he had somewhere met; but I was so impressed by the shocking rumours of his horrible actions, that involuntarily I drew back even from a bow of vicinity; murmuring to Mr. Chamier, ‘He looks so potent and mighty, I do not like to be near him!’

“‘He has been less unfortunate,’ answered Mr. Chamier, archly, ‘elsewhere; such objection has not been made to him by all ladies!’

“Lord Bruce, who knew, immediately rose to make way for him, and moved to another end of the room. The Prince instantly held out his vast hand, in which, if he had also held a cambric handkerchief, it must have looked like a white flag on the top of a mast,—so much higher than the most tip-top height of every head in the room was his spread out arm, as he exclaimed, ‘Ah! mi lord me fuit!

“His Honour, then, rising also, with a profound reverence, offered his seat to his Highness; but he positively refused to accept it, and declared, that if Mr. Brudenel would not be seated, he would himself retire; and seeing Mr. Brudenel demur, still begging his Highness to take the chair, he cried with a laugh, but very peremptorily, ‘Non, non, Monsieur! Je ne le veux pas! Je suis opiniatre, moi;—un peu comme Messieurs les Anglais!

“Mr. Brudenel then re-seated himself: and the corner of a form appearing to be vacant, from the pains taken by poor Susan to shrink away from Mr. Orloff, his Highness suddenly dropped down upon it his immense weight, with a force—notwithstanding a palpable and studied endeavour to avoid doing mischief—that threatened his gigantic person with plumping upon the floor; and terrified all on the opposite side of the form with the danger of visiting the ceiling.

“Perceiving Susan strive, though vainly, from want of space, to glide further off from him, and struck, perhaps, by her sweet countenance, ‘Ah, ha!’ he cried, ‘Je tiens ici, Je vois, une petite PrisonniÈre?!

“Charlotte, blooming like a budding little Hebe, actually stole into a corner, from affright at the whispered history of his thumb ferocity.

“Mr. Chamier, who now probably had developed what passed in my mind, contrived, very comically, to disclose his similar sentiment; for, making a quiet way to my ear, he said, in a low voice, ‘I wish Dr. Burney had invited Omiah here tonight, instead of Prince Orloff!’ Meaning, no doubt, of the two exotics, he should have preferred the most innocent!

“The grand duet of MÜthel was now called for, and played. But I can tell you nothing extra of the admiration it excited. Your Hettina looked remarkably pretty; and, added to the applause given to the music, every body had something to observe upon the singularity of the performers being husband and wife. Prince Orloff was witty quite to facetiousness; sarcastically marking something beyond what he said, by a certain ogling, half cynical, half amorous, cast of his eyes; and declaring he should take care to initiate all the foreign academies of natural philosophy, in the secret of the harmony that might be produced by such nuptial concord.

“The Russian nobleman who accompanied Prince Orloff, and who knew English, they told us, so well that he was the best interpreter for his Highness in his visits, gave us now a specimen of his proficiency; for, clapping his fore finger upon a superfine snuffbox, he exclaimed, when the duet was finished, ‘Ma foi, dis is so pretty as never I hear in my life!’

“General Bawr, also, to whom Mr. Harris directed my attention, was greatly charmed. He is tall, and of stern and martial aspect. ‘He is a man,’ said Mr. Harris, ‘to be looked at, from his courage, conduct, and success during the last Russian war; when, though a Hessian by birth, he was a Lieutenant General in the service of the Empress of Russia; and obtained the two military stars, which you now see him wear on each side, by his valour.’

“But the rapture of Lady Edgcumbe was more lively than that of any other. ‘Oh, Doctor Burney,’ she cried, ‘you have set me a madding! I would willingly practice night and day to be able to perform in such a manner. I vow I would rather hear that extraordinary duet played in that extraordinary manner, than twenty operas!’

“Her ladyship was now introduced to Prince Orloff, whom she had not happened to meet with before; and they struck up a most violent flirtation together. She invited him to her house, and begged leave to send him a card. He accepted the invitation, but begged leave to fetch the card in person. She should be most happy, she said, to receive him, for though she had but a small house, she had a great ambition. And so they went on, in gallant courtesie, till, once again, the question was brought back of the opera, and the Gabrielli.

“The Prince declared that she had not by any means sang as well as at St. Petersburgh; and General Bawr protested that, had he shut his eyes, he should not again have known her.

“Then followed, to vary the entertainment, singing by Mrs. Brudenel.

“Prince Orloff inquired very particularly of Dr. King, who we four young female Burneys were; for we were all dressed alike, on account of our mourning; and when Dr. King answered, ‘Dr. Burney’s daughters;’ she was quite astonished; for he had not thought our dear father, he said, more than thirty years of age; if so much.

“Mr. Harris, in a whisper, told me he wished some of the ladies would desire to see the miniature of the Empress a little nearer; the monstrous height of the Prince putting it quite out of view to his old eyes and short figure; and being a man, he could not, he said, presume to ask such an indulgence as that of holding it in his own hands.

“Delighted to do any thing for this excellent Mr. Harris, and quite at my ease with poor prosing Dr. King, I told him the wish of Mr. Harris.

“Dr. King whispered the desire to M. de Demidoff; M. de Demidoff did the same to General de Bawr; and General de Bawr dauntlessly made the petition to the Prince, in the name of The Ladies.

“The Prince laughed, rather sardonically; yet with ready good-humour complied; telling the General, pretty much sans ceremonie, to untie the ribbon round his neck, and give the picture into the possession of The Ladies.

“He was very gallant and debonnaire upon the occasion, entreating they would by no means hurry themselves; yet his smile, as his eye sharply followed the progress, from hand to hand, of the miniature, had a suspicious cast of investigating whether it would be worth his while to ask any favour of them in return! and through all the superb magnificence of his display of courtly manners, a little bit of the Cossack, methought, broke out, when he desired to know whether The Ladies wished for any thing else? declaring, with a smiling bow, and rolling, languishing, yet half contemptuous eyes, that, if The Ladies would issue their commands, they should strip him entirely!

“You may suppose, after that, nobody asked for a closer view of any more of his ornaments! The good, yet unaffectedly humorous philosopher of Salisbury, could not help laughing, even while actually blushing at it, that his own curiosity should have involved The Ladies in this supercilious sort of sarcastic homage.

“There was hardly any looking at the picture of the Empress for the glare of the diamonds. One of them, I really believe, was as big as a nutmeg: though I am somewhat ashamed to undignify my subject by so culinary a comparison.

“When we were all satisfied, the miniature was restored by General Bawr to the Prince, who took it with stately complacency; condescendingly making a smiling bow to each fair female who had had possession of it; and receiving from her in return a lowly courtesy.

“Mr. Harris, who was the most curious to see the Empress, because his son, Sir James, [8] was, or is intended to be, minister at her court, had slyly looked over every shoulder that held her; but would not venture, he archly whispered, to take the picture in his own hands, lest he should be included, by the Prince, amongst The Ladies, as an old woman!

“Have you had enough of this concert, my dear Mr. Crisp? I have given it in detail, for the humour of letting you see how absorbing of the public voice is La Gabrielli: and, also, for describing to you Prince Orloff; a man who, when time lets out facts, and drives in mysteries, must necessarily make a considerable figure, good or bad—but certainly not indifferent,—in European history. Besides, I want your opinion, whether there is not an odd and striking resemblance in general manners, as well as in Herculean strength and height, in this Siberian Prince and his Abyssinian Majesty?”


CONCERT.—EXTRACT THE SIXTH.

“My dear Mr. Crisp.

“I must positively talk to you again of the sweet Baroness Deiden, though I am half afraid to write you any more details of our Duet Concerts, lest they should tire your patience as much as my fingers. But you will be pleased to hear that they are still À-la-mode. We have just had another at the request of M. le Comte de Guignes, the French ambassador, delivered by Lady Edgcumbe; who not only came again her lively self, but brought her jocose and humorous lord; who seems as sportive and as fond of a hoax as any tar who walks the quarter-deck; and as cleverly gifted for making, as he is gaily disposed for enjoying one. They were both full of good-humour and spirits, and we liked them amazingly. They have not a grain of what you style the torpor of the times.

Lady Edgcumbe was so transported by MÜthel, that when her lord emitted a little cough, though it did not find vent till he had half stifled himself to check it, she called out, ‘What do you do here, my Lord, coughing? We don’t want that accompaniment.’ I wish you could have seen how drolly he looked. I am sure he was full primed with a ready repartee. But her ladyship was so intently in ecstacy, and he saw us all round so intently admiring her enthusiasm, that I verily believe he thought it would not be safe to interrupt the performance, even with the best witticism of his merry imagination.

“We had also, for contrast, the new Groom of the Stole, Lord Ashburnham, with his key of gold dangling from his pocket. He is elegant and pleasing, though silent and reserved; and just as scrupulously high-bred, as Lord Edgcumbe is frolicsomely facetious.

“But, my dear Mr. Crisp, we had again the bewitching Danish ambassadress, the Baroness Deiden, and her polite husband, the Baron. She is really one of the most delightful creatures in this lower world, if she is not one of the most deceitful. We were more charmed with her than ever. I wonder whether Ophelia was like her? or, rather, I have no doubt but she was just such another. So musical, too! The Danish Court was determined to show us that our great English bard knew what he was about, when he drew so attractive a Danish female. The Baron seems as sensible of her merit as if he were another Hamlet himself—though that is no man I ever yet saw! She speaks English very prettily; as she can’t help, I believe, doing whatever she sets about. She said to my father, ‘How good you were, Sir, to remember us! We are very much oblige indeed.’ And then to my sister, ‘I have heard no music since I was here last!’

“We had also Lord Barrington, brother to my father’s good friend Daines, and to the excellent Bishop of Salisbury.[9]. His lordship, as you know, is universally reckoned clever, witty, penetrating, and shrewd. But he bears this high character any where rather than in his air and look, which by no means pronounce his superiority of their own accord. Doubtless, however, he has ‘that within which passeth shew;’ for there is only one voice as to his talents and merit.

“His Honour, Mr. Brudenel,—but I will not again run over the names of the duplicates from the preceding concerts. I will finish my list with Lord Sandwich.

“And most welcome he made himself to us, in entering the drawing-room, by giving intelligence that he had just heard from the circumnavigators, and that our dear James was well.

“Lord Sandwich is a tall, stout man, and looks as furrowed and weather-proof as any sailor in the navy; and, like most of the old set of that brave tribe, he has good nature and joviality marked in every feature. I want to know why he is called Jemmy Twitcher in the newspapers? Do pray tell me that?

“But why do I prepare for closing my account, before I mention him for whom it was opened? namely, M. le Comte de Guignes, the French ambassador.

“He was looked upon, when he first came over, as one of the handsomest of men, as well as one of the most gallant; and his conquests amongst the fair dames of the court were in proportion with those two circumstances. I hope, therefore, now,—as I am no well-wisher to these sort of conquerors,—that his defeats, in future, will counter-balance his victories; for he is grown so fat, and looks so sleek and supine, that I think the tender tribe will hence-forward be in complete safety, and may sing, in full chorus, while viewing him,

“‘Sigh no more, Ladies, sigh no more!’

“He was, however, very civil, and seemed well entertained; though he left an amusing laugh behind him from the pomposity of his exit; for not finding, upon quitting the music room, with an abrupt French leave, half a dozen of our lackeys waiting to anticipate his orders; half a dozen of those gentlemen not being positively at hand; he indignantly and impatiently called out aloud: ‘Mes gens! oÙ sont mes gens? Que sont ils donc devenu? Mes gens! Je dis! Mes gens!

“Previously to this, the duet had gone off with its usual eclÂt.

“Lord Sandwich then expressed an earnest desire to hear the Baroness play: but she would not listen to him, and seemed vexed to be entreated, saying to my sister Hettina, who joined his lordship in the solicitation, ‘Oh yes! it will be very pretty, indeed, after all this so fine music, to see me play a little minuet!’

“Lord Sandwich applied to my father to aid his petition; but my father, though he wished himself to hear the Baroness again, did not like to tease her, when he saw her modesty of refusal was real; and consequently, that overcoming it would be painful. I am sure I could not have pressed her for the world! But Lord Sandwich, who, I suppose, is heart of oak, was not so scrupulous, and hovered over her, and would not desist; though turning her head away from him, and waving her hand to distance him, she earnestly said: ‘I beg—I beg, my lord!—’

“Lord Barrington then, who, we found, was an intimate acquaintance of the ambassador’s, attempted to seize the waving hand; conjuring her to consent to let him lead her to the instrument.

“But she hastily drew in her hand, and exclaimed: ‘Fie, fie, my lord Barrington!—so ill natured!—I should not think was you! Besides, you have heard me so often.’

“‘Madame la Baronne,’ replied he, with vivacity, ‘I want you to play precisely because Lord Sandwich has not heard you, and because I have!’

“All, however, was in vain, till the Baron came forward, and said to her, ‘Ma chÈre—you had better play something—anything—than give such a trouble.’

“She instantly arose, saying with a little reluctant shrug, but accompanied by a very sweet smile, ‘Now this looks just as if I was like to be so much pressed!’

“She then played a slow movement of Abel’s, and a minuet of Schobert’s, most delightfully, and with so much soul and expression, that your Hettina could hardly have played them better.

“She is surely descended in a right line from Ophelia! only, now I think of it, Ophelia dies unmarried. That is horribly unlucky. But, oh Shakespeare!—all-knowing Shakespeare!—how came you to picture just such female beauty and sweetness and harmony in a Danish court, as was to be brought over to England so many years after, in a Danish ambassadress?

“But I have another no common thing to tell you. Do you know that my Lord Barrington, from the time that he addressed the Baroness Deiden, and that her manner shewed him to stand fair in her good opinion, wore quite a new air? and looked so high-bred and pleasing, that I could not think what he had done with his original appearance; for it then had as good a Viscount mien as one might wish to see on a summer’s day. Now how is this, my dear Daddy? You, who deride all romance, tell me how it could happen? I know you formerly were acquainted with Lord Barrington, and liked him very much—pray, was it in presence of some fair Ophelia that you saw him?”


MRS. SHERIDAN.

But highest, at this season, in the highest circles of society, from the triple bewitchment of talents, beauty, and fashion, stood the fair Linley Sheridan; who now gave concerts at her own house, to which entrance was sought not only by all the votaries of taste, and admirers of musical excellence, but by all the leaders of ton, and their numerous followers, or slaves; with an ardour for admittance that was as eager for beholding as for listening to this matchless warbler; so astonishingly in concord were the charms of person, manners, and voice, for the eye and for the ear, of this resistless syren.

To these concerts Dr. Burney was frequently invited; where he had the pleasure, while enjoying the spirit of her conversation, the winning softness of her address, and the attraction of her smiles, to return her attention to him by the delicacy of accompaniment with which he displayed her vocal perfection.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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