“Ah, Diable!” exclaimed she, “Des Enfans! et vous êtes si jeune encore, et combien avez-vous?”
“J’en ai trois.”
“Ah, Diable! est il possible? Mais c’est bien extraordinaire.”
“Et vous, Madame, avez-vous une enfant?”
She stared, and answered, “Moi! Mlle., je ne suis pas marié, moi!”
My sister was quite confounded. She begged her pardon, and said, “Mais vraiment, Mlle., j’ai toujours cru que ce Monsieur étoit vôtre époux.”
“Ah, Diable, non! c’est mon maître. Il est maître de la Cour à Parme; nous voyagons ensemble, mais je n’ai pas voulu me marier — pour ma voix.”
My sister repeated her apologies, which she accepted very good-naturedly, and seemed to think the mistake too natural to take offence at it.
My sister was asked by the company in general to play; she begged to be excused, being quite out of practice. The Bastardella, turning to me, said, “Est-ce que Madame ne veut pas jouer?”
“Elle a peur devant vous, Madame,” said I.
She attempted not to make any disqualifying speeches; but rolling her fine languishing eyes, only said, “Ah, Diable! c’est dommage!” However, the rest of the company would not accept of my sister’s excuses; and therefore she played a lesson of Bach of Berlin.
The Bastardini seemed really pleased with it, and was civil in her commendations. Mr. Burney then sat down, and, as usual, raised a general astonishment, though I thought that the Bastardini seemed more pleased with Hetty’s playing, which is infinitely expressive and full of taste —
When they went away, she again repeated, “Je veindrai absolument,” and Dr. Maty esquired her to their carriage, adding she would only wait to be quite in voice.
This singer is really a slave to her voice; she fears the least breath of air. She is equally apprehensive of any heat. She seems to have a perpetual anxiety lest she should take cold; and I do believe that she neither eats, drinks, sleeps, nor talks, without considering in what manner she may perform those vulgar duties of life, so as to be most beneficial to her voice. However, there are so few who are gifted with eminent talents, that it is better to cultivate them, even laboriously, than to let them suffer injury from carelessness or neglect.
And now I have said so much of this great Italian singer, I will condescend to mention our great English singer, Miss Davies.
We had a visit from her, her mother, and sister last week; and we had here to meet her Mr. Twining a Clergyman, who is come to town for a few weeks from his parsonage near Colchester. He is a man of learning, very fond of music, and a good performer both on the harpsichord and violin. He commenced a correspondence with my father upon the publication of his German Tour, which they have kept up with great spirit ever since; for Mr. Twining, besides being very deep in musical knowledge, is a man of great humour and drollery.
Cecelia, [ditta l’Inglesina, was very engaging and pleasing;] but would not be prevailed upon to sing, to the great disappointment of Mr. Twining; but she said that she dared not; for, that a law-suit was not yet decided, and her articles with the Opera-managers tied her down to never singing to any company. She invited our family, however, to visit her, and said that at home she supposed she might be allowed to practice; and therefore if it would be any amusement to us, she should be very happy to do whatever was in her power.
Modesty and unassuming carriage in people of talent and fame, are irresistible. How much do I prefer for acquaintance the well-bred and obliging Miss Davies to the selfsufficient and imperious Bastardini, though I doubt not the superiority of her powers as a singer.
* * * *
My brother James has left us some time. He has an appointment for the Cerberus, and is ordered to America, which I am not at all pleased at, though I thank Heaven there is no prospect of any naval engagement, their business being only to convoy the General Officers. I am sure I shall earnestly pray for peaceable measures. Jem and I correspond, and I am glad to find he is not himself displeased at his designation.
Mr. Bruce, that Great Lyon, has lately become very intimate with my father, and has favoured him with two delightful original drawings, done by himself, of instruments which he found at the Egyptian Thebes, in his long and difficult and enterprising travels, and also with a long letter concerning them, which is to be printed in the History. These will be great ornaments to the book; and I am happy to think that Mr. Bruce, in having so highly obliged my father, will find by the estimation he is in as a writer, that his own name and assistance will not be disgraced, though it is the first time he has signed it for any publication, with which he has hitherto favoured the world.
* * * * * *
[Some Extracts from a letter addressed by Fanny to Mr. Crisp, (endorsed by him “2nd of March”), are given as they add details to the account in the journal. —
I am quite over stocked with materials: — So I think to prevent waste of time in considering I will take people alphabetically.
A.
* * * * * *
Signora Agujari, detta Bastardini, sent very particular compliments to my father by Dr. Matty, of the Museum, regretting that she had not seen him when she was abroad, and very much desiring to be introduced to his acquaintance. It is somewhat remarkable that this is the second capital female singer who has sent to solicit my father’s acquaintance, and both of them by men of learning; for Miss Davies commissioned Dr. Johnson to deliver her message of compliments.
* * * * * *
She is of middle stature and a little lame. She has a very good complection, and was well not absurdly, painted. She has fine expressive languishing eyes, and altogether is a handsome woman, and appears about four or five and twenty. She was accompanied by Signor Colla, who is maître de musique à la Cour at Parma, and who attends her in her travels, and is, like her, pensioned by the Duke. He is a tall, thin, spirited Italian, full of fire and not wanting in grimace.
Dr. Maty also introduced two more gentlemen, both clergymen, to be of the party. The name of one of them I have forgot; he was a yea and nay man not worth remembering; the other was the famous Mr. Penneck, that worthy, and gentle, and pious parson, who knocked down Mr. Colman upon suspecting his having a penchant for a Miss Miller, an actress. This man is half a madman; he looks dark and designing and altogether ill-favoured}
This was our party, and if I could write and spell French and Italian I would give you a sketch of the conversation, which was lively and entertaining; but as that is out of my power I can only mention two or three circumstances.
We were all of us excessively eager to hear her sing, but as it was not convenient to offer her her Pantheon price of 50 guineas a song, we were rather fearful of asking that favour; however, my father ventured to hint at it to Signor Colla; who told us that she certainly would sing — but that she had a bad cold, and slight sore throat!
* * * * * *
Some account of Hetty’s mistake as to Agujari’s being married is then given, afterwards Fanny writes that. —
Dr. Maty has assured us that she bears an unexceptional character, and that she is therefore visited by his wife and daughters She has been strongly recommended to him from abroad. Her behaviour was very proper, and she displayed none of her airs, though it was not difficult to see that she could behave otherwise, for she displayed, perhaps, involuntarily, a consciousness of her greatness by a thousand little speeches and looks.
* * * * * *
After tea we went into the library, and Hetty was prevailed upon to play a Lesson of Bach of Berlin’s, upon our Merlin harpsichard. It was very sweet, and Agujari appeared to be really much pleased with it, and spoke highly of the taste and feeling with which Hetty played. Mr. Burney sat down next. They all stared [with admiration], as usual, at his performance.
* * * * * *
And so ended this visit. Signor Colla has been here since, and had a long discourse with my father concerning poetry and music, he is a most mighty reasoner. But what was most provoking wa
s that he came again yesterday, and the Bastardini with him, and we were all, unfortunately, at the Stranges’. However, I hope we shall see her by appointment soon, as my father has promised Mr. Twining to let him know when she comes, that he may be of the party.]
Feb. 28th.
Yesterday morning my mother, Susan, and self, accompanied by Mr. Twining, went to the Opera House... but... no opera returned... a visit to Sir Joshua Reynolds’ to see his pictures. Here we were very much delighted. The ease and elegance of this painter, as Mr. Twining observed, seem unrivalled among English artists. Among other portraits we saw Signor Sacchini, which is taken for the Duke of Dorset. It is finely done and makes a most charming picture. Sir Joshua himself speaking of it to my father said that Sacchini was the highest type of manly beauty. But what most delighted me was, the beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, who is taken seated at a harp a whole figure in character of Saint Cecelia; a denomination she greatly merits. My father is to supply Sir Joshua with some Greek Music, to place before her When we had made a long visit, my mother not being very well went home, and we two paraded with Mr. Twining to Miss Merlin’s (?)... harpsichord....
We then went to Miss Reid, to see her paintings, which in crayons seem really to nearly reach perfection; their not standing appears to me the only inferiority they have to oil-colours; while they are new, nothing can be so soft, so delicate, so blooming. We went afterwards into the room, where Miss Reid and her lively niece were sitting. As she is very deaf, I believe she did not hear me speak Mr. Twining’s name, and she was so intent upon what she was about, that I am sure she never saw him. She is a very clever woman, and in her profession has certainly very great merit; but her turn of mind is naturally melancholy. She is absent, full of care, and has a countenance the most haggard and wretched I ever saw; added to which she dresses in a style the most strange and queer that can be conceived, and which is worst of all, is always very dirty. The unhappiness of her mind I have heard attributed to so great and extraordinary an unsteadiness not only of conduct, but of principle, that, in regard to her worldly affairs, she is governed by all who will direct her, and therefore acts with inconsistency and the most uncomfortable want of method; and in her religious opinions she is guided and led alternately by Free-thinkers and by Enthusiasts. Her mind is thus in a state of perpetual agitation and uneasiness. If she was a woman of weak intellect, I should not wonder at her being so unfixed and wavering; but that is by no means the case; she has a very good understanding, and when the foul fiend is not tormenting her, she is even droll and entertaining.
We found her trying on a coat she was altering in a fit of housewifery, upon Nelly Beatson, who seemed to think the favour was all of her granting in permitting her aunt to meddle with her. It was curious to see the ill-managed contrivance of poor Miss Reid, who was so ignorant how to make the alteration she found necessary, that she was piecing a blue and white tissue with a large patch of black silk! I believe there are few men in the world, who would not figure more creditably as mantua-makers. She had on a large dirty wing cap, made of muslin and a half handkerchief tied over it as a hood; a German dress, made of old lute-string excessively faded and colourless, and a shawl that had been a very fine spotted one, but which was more soiled than if she had been embraced by a chimney-sweeper, flung over her shoulders. She did not stop her employment, or even lift up her head, though she very civilly enquired after our healths, was very glad to see us &c.; for her inattention is the effect of absence, not of wilful ill-breeding.
I asked Nelly to show us some of her [own] drawings. “There they are yonder,” said she, in her usual easy manner. “Well! but won’t you come yourself, and shew them to this Gentleman?” cried I. “No; I can’t,” said she gravely, “pray how does Charlotte do?”
“You little cross patch,” cried I, “you must come with us, — I won’t have you so idle—”
“No, I can’t;” answered she very composedly, “but come another time, and I will.”
Her aunt bid her stand a little way off, that she might see how her coat set. She immediately marched to the door; “Nay, now, Nelly,” cried Miss Reid, “I can’t see at all.”
“Lord! what signifies?” returned she, “I shan’t try it any more;” and jumped out of it, leaving it on the ground.
As we were going, Miss Reid called me to her, and said she wanted to speak to me, “I have a favour to ask of you,” said she, “which is that you Will sit to me in an attitude.” I burst out in laughter, and told her I was then in haste; but would call soon and talk about it. I cannot imagine what she means; however, if it is to finish any burlesque picture, I am much at her service.
Mr. Twining confessed that he was not more, though differently entertained by Miss Reid’s paintings than by Miss Reid herself; for her knowledge of her profession is not more remarkable than her ignorance of the world. However, it is a great pity, that a girl of the parts and understanding of Nelly Beatson should be so miserably educated. Mr. Twining was excessively agreeable; he assumed no manner of superiority; nor yet, — as is as often the case with people of learning as with persons of distinction, affected a certain put-on equality; — a condescendsion which mortifies a thousand times more than insolence itself.
Not being much in town, the new vis-à-vis were not familiar to him. “That is to me a most disagreeable-looking carriage,” said he, “from want of custom perhaps; for it is true that a chariot or chaises will only hold two people, any more than a vis-à-vis; but the thing is, that one only thinks of two people at sight of a chariot; but there is something in a vis-à-vis, which looks as if it meant to exclude a third person: it seems as if it were spiteful.”..
March 4th.
I had yesterday the honour of drinking tea in company with His Abyssinian Majesty Mr. Bruce; for so Mrs. Strange calls Mr. Bruce. My mother and I went to Mr. Strange’s by appointment, to meet Mr and Mrs. Turner of Lynn, who are lately become acquainted in that family, and who are in town for the winter; and this Majestic Personage chanced to be there. He has been acquainted intimately with Mrs. Strange all his life, and is very much attached to her and her family He seldom passes a day without visiting her; but Miss Strange who has told me of many of his singularities, says that he is generally put into a pet when they have any company, as his excessive haughtiness prevents his being sociable with them, and makes him think them impertinant, if they take the liberty to speak to him. Indeed, she told me he has been really very ill-used from the curiosity, which previous to his provocation, he did satisfy, for many people gathered anecdotes and observations from him, and then printed them. This... as he intends... to publish his travels himself, was most abominably provoking. It is not enough to say, that this put him upon his guards it has really made him shy of being asked how he does? or, what’s o’clock? Haughty by nature, his extraordinary travels, and perhaps his long residence among savages have contributed to render him one of the most imperious of men; he is indeed by far the most so, that I ever saw. He is more than six foot high, is extremely well proportioned in shape, and has a handsome and expressive face. If his vanity is half as great as his pride, he would certainly become more courteous, if he knew how much smiles become him, for when he is pleased to soften the severity of his countenance, and to suffer his features to relax into smiling, he is quite another creature.... Mr. Bruce, as my father did not accompany us, I doubt not wished himself alone with the Stranges; for he looked so important, that he awed almost into total silence Mr and Mrs. Turner; who secretly wished the same [for themselves]. Mr. Turner, who is a very jocular man, could not bear to be deprived of his laugh, and yet had not courage sufficient to venture at joking before so terrible a man, who looks as if born to command the world! Besides, he had heard so much of his character before they met, that he was prepared to fear him; and Mrs. Turner is too little used to the company of strangers, to be at her ease when in it.
As to my [little] self, I sat next to Miss Strange, and was comfortable enough in conversing with her, till my mother
finding herself little noticed [by the Great Man], quitted her seat, and went and placed herself next to Mrs. Turner, saying, “I shall come and sit by you, and leave Mr. Bruce to the young lassies.” I do heartily hate these sort of speeches, which oblige one to be [remarked]; nothing can be more provoking. Mr. Bruce, accordingly turning towards me, said, “Well, Miss Burney, I think you can do no less than take the seat your mamma has left.” I did not half like it; but thought he would suppose me afraid of him, if I refused; [so, I]... changed chairs, but made signs to Miss Strange to move next to me, and immediately renewed our conversation, lest he should think himself obliged to take further notice of me.
A very strange Advertisement had been put in the papers the evening before, which said that Mr. Bruce was dying or dead. My father who knew he was well, wafered the paragraph upon a sheet of paper, and sent it to his lodgings. My mother asked him if he had seen it? “I thought,” answered he, “it had come from Brucey” [for Miss Strange, who was christened Bruce, he always calls Brucey] “Yes; I saw it and read my death with great composure.” Then turning himself to me, he added, “was you not sorry, Miss Burney, to read of my death?”
These immense-sized men speak to little women, as if they were children. I answered, that, as my father had seen him the day before, I was not much alarmed. Mr. Turner, then gathering courage, said, “Well, Sir, I think, as times go, it is very well that when they killed you, they said no ill of you.”
“I know of no reason they had to do otherwise,” answered Mr. Bruce so haughtily, that Mr. Turner, failing in his first attempt, never afterwards spoke to him, or indeed hardly opened his mouth.
Soon after, a servant came in with General Melville’s compliments, and a desire to know if it was true, that Mr. Bruce was dangerously ill? Mr. Bruce answered drily, “Yes; tell him I am dead.”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 481