“It was produced by a visit from Mrs. Strange, with a petition from his
Majesty of Abyssinia for another musical evening; as he had spoken with
so much rapture of the last to Mr. Nesbit, a great _amateur_, ‘that
the poor honest lad,’ Mrs. Strange said, ‘could no’ sleep o’ nights
from impatience to be inoculated with the same harmony, to prevent the
infection Mr. Bruce carried about with him from doing him a mischief.’
“Well, the time was fixed, and the evening proved so agreeable, that
we heartily and continually wished our dear Mr. Crisp amongst us. Mr.
Twining, too, was gone. All one likes best go quickest.
“The first who arrived was Mr. Solly. He, also, is a great traveller,
though not a renowned one; for nothing less than the Nile, and no place
short of Abyssinia, will do, at present, for the taste of the public.
My father had met with Mr. Solly at four several cities in Italy, and
all accidentally; namely, Bologna, Florence, Rome, and Naples. Since
that time, Mr. Solly has been wandering to many more remote places; and
at Alexandria, and at Grand Cairo, he had met with Mr. Bruce. He is a
chatty, lively man; and not at all wanting in marks of his foreign
excursions, _i.e._ shrugs, jerks, and gestures. John Bull, you know, my
dear Mr. Crisp, when left to himself, is so torpid a sort of figure,
with his arms slung so lank to his sides, that, at a little distance,
one might fancy him without any such limb. While the Italians and
French make such a flourishing display of its powers, that I verily
believe it quickens circulation, and helps to render them so much more
vivacious than philosopher Johnny.
“Yet I love Johnny best, for all that; as well as honour him the most;
only I often wish he was a little more entertaining.
“Mr. Solly and my father ‘fought all their battles o’er again’ through
Italy; and kept fighting them on till the arrival of Dr. Russel, a
learned, and likewise a travelled physician, who seems droll and
clever; but who is so very short-sighted, that even my father and I see
further a-field. He loses nothing, however, through this infirmity,
that trouble can supply; for he peers in every body’s face at least
a minute, to discover whether or not he knows them; and, after that,
he peers a minute or two more, to discover, I suppose, whether or not
he likes them. Yet, without boldness. ’Tis merely a look of earnest
investigation, which he bestowed, in turn, upon every one present, as
they came in his way; never fastening his eyes, even for an instant,
upon the ground, the fire, the wainscot, or any thing inanimate, but
always upon the ‘human face divine.’
“He, also, is another travelled friend of Mr. Bruce, whom he knew at
Aleppo, where Dr. Russel resided some years.[49]
“Then came Mrs. and Miss Strange, and his Abyssinian majesty, with
his companion, Mr. Nesbit, who is a young Scotchman of distinction,
infinitely _fade_, conceited, and coxcombical. He spoke very little,
except to Mr. Bruce, and that, very politely, in a whisper. I cannot at
all imagine what could provoke this African monarch to introduce such a
fop here. We heartily wished him back in his own quarters; or at least
at ‘the Orkneys,’ or at ‘the Lord knows where.’
“Mr. Bruce himself was in the most perfect good-humour; all civility
and pleasantry; and his smiles seemed to give liberty for general ease.
“Having paid his compliments to my mother, he addressed himself to
my sister Burney, inquiring courteously after her finger, which Miss
Strange had told him she had hurt.
“‘Mrs. Burney’s fingers,’ cried Dr. Russel, snatching at the
opportunity for a good gaze, not upon her finger, but her phiz, ‘ought
to be exempt from all evil.’
“Your Hettina smiled, and assured them it was almost well.
“‘O, I prayed to Apollo,’ cried Mr. Bruce, ‘for its recovery, and he
has heard my prayer.’
“‘I have no doubt, sir,’ said Hetty, ‘of your influence with Apollo.’
“‘I ought to have some, Madam,’ answered he grandly, ‘for I have been a
slave to him all my life!’”
“He then came to hope that I should open the concert; speaking to me
with just such an encouraging sort of smile as if I had been about
eleven years old; and strongly admonishing me not to delay coming
forward at once, as he was prepared for no common pleasure in listening
to me.
“Next he advanced to Susanna, begging her to exhibit her talent; and
telling her he had had a dream, that if she refused to play, some
great misfortune would befall him.
“When he had gone through this little circle of gallantry, to his own
apparent satisfaction, he suffered Mr. Nesbit to seize upon him for
another whispering dialogue; in which, as Mrs. Strange has since told
my mother, that pretty swain lamented that he must soon run away, a
certain lady of quality having taken such an unaccountable fancy to him
at the opera of the preceding night, that she had appointed him to be
with her this evening _tête à tête_!
“Mr. Bruce gave so little credit to this _bonne fortune_, that he
laughed aloud in relating it to Mrs. Strange.
“Mr. Bruce then called upon Dr. Russel to take a violin, saying he was
a very fine performer; but adding, ‘We used to disgrace his talents,
I own, at Aleppo; for, having no blind fiddler at hand, we kept him
playing country dances by the hour.’
“Dr. Russel mentioned some town _in those parts_, Asia or Africa, where
a concert, upon occasion of a marriage, lasted three days.
“‘Three days?’ repeated Mr. Bruce; ‘why marriage is a more formidable
thing there than even here!’
“Then came music, and the incomparable duet; which, as they could not
forbear encoring, filled up all the rest of the evening, till the
company at large departed; for there were several persons present whom
I have not mentioned, being of no zest for your notice.
“Mr. Bruce, however, with the Stranges, again consented to stay supper;
which, you know, with us, is nothing but a permission to sit over a
table for chat, and roast potatoes, or apples.
“But now, to perfect your acquaintance with this towering Ethiopian,
where do you think he will take you during supper?
“To the source, or sources, you cry, of the Nile? to Thebes? to its
temple? to an arietta on the Theban Harp? or, perhaps, to banquetting
on hot raw beef in Abyssinia?
“No such thing, my dear Mr. Crisp, no such thing. Travellers who mean
to write their travels, are fit for nothing but to represent the gap at
your whist table at Chesington, when you have only three players; for
they are mere dummies.
“Mr. Bruce left all his exploits, his wanderings, his vanishings,
his re-appearances, his harps so celestial, and his bullocks so
terrestrial, to plant all our entertainment within a hundred yards of
our own coterie; namely, at the masquerades at the Haymarket.
“Thus it was. He inquired of Mrs. Strange where he could find Mrs.
Twoldham, a lady of his acquaintance; a very fine woman, but remarkably
dissipated, whom he wished to see.
“‘Troth,’ Mrs. Strange answered, ‘she did not know; but if he would
take a turn to a masquerade or two, he would be sure to light upon her,
as she never missed one.’
“‘What,’ cried he, laughing, ‘has she not had enough yet of
masquerades? Brava, Mrs. Twoldham! I honour your spirit.’
“He then laughed so cordially, that we were tempted, by such
extraordinary good-humour, to beg him, almost in a body, to permit us
to partake of his mirth.
“He complied very gaily. ‘A friend of mine,’ he cried, ‘before I went
abroad, had so often been teazed to esquire her to some of these
medleys, that he thought to give the poor woman a surfeit of them to
free himself from her future importunity. Yet she was a very handsome
woman, very handsome indeed. But just as they were going into the
great room, he had got one of her visiting cards ready, and contrived,
as they passed through a crowded passage, to pin to the back of her
robe, Mrs. Twoldham, Wimpole Street. And not three steps had she tript
forward, before some one called out: “Hah! Mrs. Twoldham! how do you
do, Mrs. Twoldham?”—“Oho, Mrs. Twoldham, are you here?” cried another;
“Well, Ma’am, and how do all friends in Wimpole Street do?” till the
poor woman was half out of her wits, to know how so many people had
discovered her. So she thought that perhaps her forehead was in sight,
and she perked up her mask; but she did not less hear, “Ah! it’s
you, Mrs. Twoldham, is it?” Then she supposed she had left a peep at
her chin, and down again was tugged the poor mask; but still, “Mrs.
Twoldham!” and, “how do you do, my dear Mrs. Twoldham?” was rung in
her ears at every step; till at last, she took it into her head that
some one, who, by chance, had detected her, had sent her name round
the room; so she hurried off like lightning to the upper suite of
apartments. But ’twas all the same. “Well, I declare, if here is not
Mrs. Twoldham!” cries the first person that passed her. “So she is, I
protest,” cried another; “I am very glad to see you, my dear Ma’am!
what say you to giving me a little breakfast to-morrow morning? you
know where, Mrs. Twoldham; at our old haunt in Wimpole Street.” But, at
last, the corner of an unlucky table rubbed off the visiting card; and
a waiter, who picked it up, grinned from ear to ear, and asked whether
it was hers. And the poor woman fell into such a trance of passion,
that my friend was afraid for his eyes; and all the more, because, do
what he would, he could not refrain from laughing in her face.’
“You can scarcely conceive how heartily he laughed himself; he quite
chuckled, with all the enjoyment in mischief of a holiday school boy.
“And he harped upon the subject with such facetious pleasure, that no
other could be started.
“‘I once knew,’ he cried, ‘a man, his name was Robert Chambers, and a
good-natured little fellow he was, who was served this very trick the
first masquerade he went to in London, upon fresh coming from Scotland.
A gentleman who went to it with him, wrote upon his black domino, with
chalk, “this is little Bob Chambers, fresh come from Edinburgh;” and
immediately some one called out, in passing him, “What Bob? little
Bob Chambers? how do, my boy?” “Faith,” says Bob, to his friend,
“the people of this fine London are pretty impudent! I don’t know that
I know a soul in the whole town, and the first person I meet makes
free to call me plain Bob?” But when he went on, and found that every
creature in every room did the same, he grew quite outrageous at being
treated with so little ceremony; and he stamped with his foot at one,
and clenched his fist at another, and asked how they dared call him
Bob? “What! a’n’t you Bob, then?” replies one; “O yes, you are! you’re
Bob, my Bob, as sure as a gun! Bob Chambers! little Bob Chambers. And
I hope you have left all well at Edinburgh, my Bob?” In vain he rubbed
by them, and tried to get on, for they called to him quite from a
distance; “Bob!—Bob! come hither, I say!—come hither, my Bobby! my
Bob of all Bobs! you’re welcome from Edinburgh, my Bob!” Well, then,
he said, ’twas clear the devil owed him a spite, and had told his name
from top to bottom of every room. Poor Bob! he made a wry face at the
very sound of a masquerade to the end of his days.’
“To have looked at Mr. Bruce in his glee at this buffoonery, you must
really have been amused; though methinks I see, supposing you had been
with us, the picturesque rising of your brow, and all the dignity of
your Roman nose, while you would have stared at such familiar delight
in an active joke, as to transport into so merry an _espiegle_, the
seven-footed loftiness of the haughty and imperious tourist from the
sands of Ethiopia, and the waters of Abyssinia; whom, nevertheless,
I have now the honour to portray in his _robe de chambre_, i.e. in
private society, to my dear Chesington Daddy.
“What says he to the portrait?”
With fresh pleasure and alacrity, Dr. Burney now went on with his work.
So unlooked for a re-inforcement of his means could not have arrived
more seasonably. Every discovery, or development, relative to early
times, was not only of essential service to the Dissertation on the
Music of the Ancients, upon which, now, he was elaborately engaged, but
excited general curiosity in all lovers of antiquity.