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. Petersburg, 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[[21]] 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 eyebrows 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 us 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.