The Harmonicon. Part the First

by Various

MEMOIRS OF DR. BURNEY, BY HIS DAUGHTER MAD. D’ARBLAY.

[Continued from [page 54].]

WE resume our specimens of these volumes with an extract from a letter, giving the authoress’s account of Agujari, who is, by the common consent of contemporary musicians, allowed to have possessed the most wonderful voice that any woman was ever gifted with, (reaching to B

in altissimo); and to have been the most talented and splendid singer of her day; but who, being excluded by lameness from the stage, and confined entirely to the church or the concert-room, is less remembered than many theatrical singers who were not possessed of half her merit.

“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 the 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 Metastasio’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 fulness 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.[43] 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 no plump, so true, act 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 chant 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 guere 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.”

Two following letters of the authoress refer, first to disappointment in going to the Opera, when Gabrielli was advertised but did not sing; and secondly, to disappointment when she did sing. The next letter, giving an account of a concert at Dr. Burney’s house, immediately after the appearance of Gabrielli, we insert entire, as a fair medium specimen of the authoress’s style and talent in that species of writing. The concerts held at Dr. Burney’s appear to have been honoured by the presence of some very high company, though the performances appear to have been confined to the pianoforte, and a little singing, and the performers limited to the Doctor’s family and a few amateurs of rank. Not even a flute or violin is heard of, nor a single professional musician (out of the family) once mentioned as present:—

“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 anything 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 the 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 show 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 had 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 greet voice;—by Agujari, he seemed to have that of a child.’—

“Tat, tat, tat, tat, too.

“Enter The Hon. MR. and MRS. BRUDENEL,

“Mr. Brudenel,[44] 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 peoples affairs and opinions; even upon their incomes and expenses;—nay, even upon their age!

“Did you ever hear of anything 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 show 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 partisan.

“Lady Edgcumbe warmed up ardently for Agujari.

“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 ear. 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 went that information, my dear Mr. Crisp; though as you are one of the rare personages who are skilled in everything 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 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 showy, 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! milord 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 reseated 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 farther 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 forefinger upon a superfine snuff-box, 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, Dr. Burney,’ she cried, ‘you have set me a madding! I would willingly practise 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 her 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 sung 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,’ he 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[45], was, or is intended to be, minister at her court, had slily 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?”—vol. ii. p. 43–60.

The authoress’s account of the publication of the first volume of Dr. Burney’s History of Music, and its presentation to the Queen, occupies three pages, but contains no new information whatever, except that the Doctor was so delighted by her Majesty’s condescension in receiving the presentation copy, that he thenceforward never omitted to attend the Court on the birth-days. The shortness of this musical article is, however, immediately and fully made up for by an episode of full fifty pages, about Streatham, the Thrales, Dr. Johnson, Piozzi, &c.; in which all that relates to Dr. Burney might be comprised in almost as many words. But the authoress must be forgiven; she evidently wrote these memoirs under at least a double influence, and over her pen

‘Divisum imperium cum Burney Johnson habet.’

The next episode which the authoress has introduced is one on which we would willingly be silent, and which we heartily wish, for her own sake, she had either omitted, or, at least, curtailed within one tenth the limits to which it is extended. It is the history of the origin, writing, printing, and anonymous publication of the authoress’s first novel, which every patron and patroness of a circulating library still knows is entitled ‘EVELINA; or, a Young Lady’s Introduction into Life;’ together with the further history of the effect this anonymous novel made, first in the novel reading, and then in the literary world; then the discovery of the authoress, which, curiously enough, seems to have been first made by the Doctor himself; who, by the way, was in the secret of his daughter’s being an authoress; though ignorant whether her maiden production was a spelling book or a homily; then the anonymous triumphs achieved by Evelina over Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, &c.; then the bashful, half-reluctant consent that Mrs. Thrale, if pleased by reading it, might be admitted into the secret; and, finally, the full meridian blaze of popularity with Honourables and Right Honourables, Doctors, M.P.’s, statesmen, Lords Chancellor, and bas bleus, sounding aloft its praises from one end of the English Parnassus to the other. All this occupies fifty goodly pages, closed by an extract from a memorandum book of the Doctor’s, which gives the pith of the story in two,—but in which, singularly enough, the Doctor, though penning a private memorandum, never hints at how or whence he came to the knowledge of the secret. But this is not the worst; the game once started is never allowed to rest,—throughout the remainder of the volume scarce a conversation is reported which does not contain some well-turned compliment (always from some leading character) to Evelina and its authoress. At a bas-bleu meeting Mr. Soame Jenyns stands up, and delivers a regular eulogium on Evelina and its authoress. Sir Joshua Reynolds gives a dinner, to introduce to each other (we hardly know which to place in the first rank of celebrity, so follow the rule of Plâce aux Dames) the Authoress of Evelina and the Right Honourable Edmund Burke. At this dinner the following remarks were made, and are detailed by the authoress herself:—

“There has been,” Mr. Burke then, smilingly, resumed, “an age for all excellence; we have had an age for statesmen; an age for heroes; an age for poets; an age for artists;—but This,” bowing down, with an air of obsequious gallantry, his head almost upon the table cloth, “This is the age for women!”

“A very happy modern improvement!” cried Sir Joshua, laughing; “don’t you think so, Miss Burney?—but that’s not a fair question to put to you; so we won’t make a point of your answering it. However,” continued the dear natural knight, “what Mr. Burke says is very true, now. The women begin to make a figure in every thing. Though I remember, when I first came into the world, it was thought but a poor compliment to say a person did a thing like a lady!”

“Ay, Sir Joshua,” cried my father, “but like Moliere’s physician, nous avons changé tout cela!”

“Very true, Dr. Burney,” replied the Knight; “but I remember the time—and so, I dare say, do you—when it was thought a slight, if not a sneer, to speak any thing of a lady’s performance: it was only in mockery to talk of painting like a lady; singing like a lady; playing like a lady—”

“But now,” interrupted Mr. Burke, warmly, “to talk of writing like a lady, is the greatest compliment that need be wished for by a man!”

Would you believe it, my daddy—every body now, himself and my father excepted, turned about, Sir Joshua leading the way—to make a little playful bow to—can you ever guess to whom?—vol. ii. pp. 236, 237.

We do not complain that this was originally confided to an old, a fraternal friend, in all the warm glow of surprise, raised pride, and gratified feelings; but we do think that a lapse of fifty years should have somewhat tempered that glow, if it did not even suggest something like a question whether all these hyperbolical compliments, bestowed at last upon a production of no higher class than a novel, could be quite sincere. But enough on this subject; we have been led further into it than we at first intended, and abandon it with much more satisfaction than we took it up.

[To be continued.]