“I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented by herself,” said Esther. “But indeed if James tells us that Mr. Garrick's gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a head, I should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James.”
“Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe,” said James. “The man came to take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown to his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him that Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as well, for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest, he had us blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's shoulder and spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though he were at the point of breaking down.”
Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
“That is what I do not like—that trifling with sacred things,” she said. “'Tis not decent in a private house—I would not tolerate it even in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though you may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad scheme he had set himself upon perfecting.”
“Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that Mr. Kendal,” said James. “But enough—more than enough—of coxcomb Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial duets as successful as usual?”
Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said a word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager Duchess of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed, brightened up at her brother's question.
“The concert was well enough,” she replied with an affectation of carelessness. “'Twas no better than many that have taken place under this roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us—we had enough plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself.”
“Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can never tell when it sits straight on her shoulders,” said James.
“She was very civil to us last evening,” said Esther. “Indeed, she was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo from Piramo e Tisbe and swept the company off their feet. The poor Gabrielli had no chance against Rauzzini.”
“Especially in a company that numbered many ladies,” said James, with a laugh. “You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once said of Johnson?—that in his argument he was like the highwayman: when his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt.”