Fanny Burney and Her Friends: Select Passages from Her Diary and Other Writings. Burney Fanny

by his tours, and which was extended by the first instalment of his ‘History,’ ‘attracted to his house,’ as Macaulay points out, ‘the most eminent musical performers of that age. The greatest Italian singers who visited England regarded him as the dispenser of fame in their art, and exerted themselves to obtain his suffrage. Pacchierotti^[17] became his intimate friend. The rapacious Agujari,^[18] who sang for nobody else under fifty pounds an air, sang her best for Dr. Burney without a fee; and in the company of Dr. Burney even the haughty and eccentric Gabrielli^[19] constrained herself to behave with civility. It was thus in his power to give, with scarcely any expense, concerts equal to those of the aristocracy. On such occasions the quiet street in which he lived was blocked up by coroneted chariots, and his little drawing-room was crowded with peers, peeresses, ministers, and ambassadors.’

      The following extract from one of Fanny’s letters contains a full description of the most memorable of these musical evenings, though it was one on which no foreign artist performed:

“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^[20] 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. 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.

      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. [Lady Edgcumbe is asked the usual question about Gabrielli, as also are the Honourable Mr. and Mrs. Brudenel, who appear next. Then we are introduced in succession to the Baron Demidoff, Harris of Salisbury, and Lord Bruce.] 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 shrank 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 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,^[22] 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,^[23] 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 opiniâtre, 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 further off from him, and struck, perhaps, by her sweet countenance, ‘Ah, ha!’ he cried, ‘je