“Come, come,” cried Mrs. Mirvan, “I must beg no insinuations of that sort: Miss Anville’s colour, as you have successfully tried, may, you see, be heightened; but, I assure you, it would be past your skill to lessen it.”
“‘Pon honour, Madam,” returned he, “you wrong me; I presumed not to infer that rouge was the only succedaneum for health; but, really, I have known so many different causes for a lady’s colour, such as flushing-anger-mauvaise honte-and so forth, that I never dare decide to which it may be owing.”
“As to such causes as them there,” cried the Captain, “they must belong to those that they keep company with.”
“Very true, Captain,” said Sir Clement; “the natural complexion has nothing to do with the occasional sallies of the passions, or any accidental causes.”
“No, truly,” returned the Captain: “for now here’s me, why I look like any other man; just now; and yet, if you were to put me in a passion, ‘fore George, you’d soon see me have as fine a high colour as any painted Jezebel in all this place, be she never so bedaubed.”
“But,” said Lord Orville, “the difference of natural and of artificial colour seems to me very easily discerned; that of nature is mottled and varying; that of art set, and too smooth; it wants that animation, that glow, that indescribable something, which, even now that I see it, wholly surpasses all my powers of expression.”
“Your Lordship,” said Sir Clement, “is universally acknowledged to be a connoisseur in beauty.”
“And you, Sir Clement,” returned he, “an enthusiast.”
“I am proud to own it,” cried Sir Clement; “in such a cause, and before such objects, enthusiasm is simply the consequence of not being blind.”
“Pr’ythee, a truce with all this palavering,” cried the Captain: “the women are vain enough already; no need for to puff ’em up more.”
“We must all submit to the commanding officer,” said Sir Clement: “therefore, let us call another subject. Pray, ladies, how have you been entertained with the play?”
“Want of entertainment,” said Mrs. Mirvan, “is its least fault; but I own there are objections to it, which I should be glad to see removed.”
“I could have ventured to answer for the ladies,” said Lord Orville, “since I am sure this is not a play that can be honoured with their approbation.”
“What, I suppose it is not sentimental enough!” cried the Captain, “or else it is too good for them; for I’ll maintain it’s one of the best comedies in our language, and has more wit in one scene than there is in all the new plays put together.”
“For my part,” said Mr. Lovel, “I confess I seldom listen to the players: one has so much to do, in looking about and finding out one’s acquaintance, that, really, one has no time to mind the stage. Pray,” most affectedly fixing his eyes upon a diamond ring on his little finger, “pray-what was the play to-night?”
“Why, what the D-l,” cried the Captain, “do you come to the play without knowing what it is?”
“O yes, Sir, yes, very frequently: I have no time to read play-bills; one merely comes to meet one’s friends, and shew that one’s alive.”
“Ha, ha, ha!-and so,” cried the Captain, “it costs you five shillings a-night just to shew you’re alive! Well, faith, my friends should all think me dead and underground before I’d be at that expense for ‘em. Howsomever-this here you may take from me-they’ll find you out fast enough if you have anything to give ‘em.-And so you’ve been here all this time, and don’t know what the play was?”
“Why, really Sir, a play requires so much attention,-it is scarce possible to keep awake if one listens;-for, indeed, by the time it is evening, one has been so fatigued with dining,-or wine,-or the house,-or studying,-that it is-it is perfectly an impossibility. But, now I think of it, I believe I have a bill in my pocket; O, ay, here it is-Love for Love, ay,-true, ha, ha!-how could I be so stupid!”
“O, easily enough, as to that, I warrant you,” said the Captain; “but, by my soul, this is one of the best jokes I ever heard!-Come to a play, and not know what it is!-Why, I suppose you wouldn’t have found it out, if they had fob’d you off with a scraping of fiddlers, or an opera?-Ha, ha, ha!-Why, now, I should have thought you might have taken some notice of one Mr. Tattle, that is in this play!”
This sarcasm, which caused a general smile, made him colour: but, turning to the Captain with a look of conceit, which implied that he had a retort ready, he said, “Pray, Sir, give me leave to ask-What do you think of one Mr. Ben, who is also in this play?”
The Captain, regarding him with the utmost contempt, answered in a loud voice, “Think of him!-why, I think he is a man!” And then, staring full in his face, he struck his cane on the ground with a violence that made him start. He did not however, choose to take any notice of this: but, having bit his nails some time in manifest confusion, he turned very quick to me, and in a sneering tone of voice, said, “For my part, I was most struck with the country young lady, Miss Prue; pray what do you think of her, Ma’am?”
“Indeed, Sir,” cried I, very much provoked, “I think-that is, I do not think any thing about her.”
“Well, really, Ma’am, you prodigiously surprise me!-mais, apparemment ce n’est qu’une facon de parler? -though I should beg your pardon, for probably you do not understand French?”
I made no answer, for I thought his rudeness intolerable; but Sir Clement, with great warmth, said, “I am surprised that you can suppose such an object as Miss Prue would engage the attention of Miss Anville even for a moment.”
“O, Sir,” returned this fop, “’tis the first character in the piece!-so well drawn!-so much the thing!-such true country breeding-such rural ignorance! ha, ha, ha!-’tis most admirably hit off, ‘pon honour!”
I could almost have cried, that such impertinence should be leveled at me; and yet, chagrined as I was, I could never behold Lord Orville and this man at the same time, and feel any regret for the cause I had given of displeasure.
“The only female in the play,” said Lord Orville, “worthy of being mentioned to these ladies is Angelica.”
“Angelica,” cried Sir Clement, “is a noble girl; she tries her lover severely, but she rewards him generously.”
“Yet, in a trial so long,” said Mrs. Mirvan, “there seems rather too much consciousness of her power.”
“Since my opinion has the sanction of Mrs. Mirvan,” added Lord Orville, “I will venture to say, that Angelica bestows her hand rather with the air of a benefactress, than with the tenderness of a mistress. Generosity without delicacy, like wit without judgment, generally gives as much pain as pleasure. The uncertainty in which she keeps Valentine, and her manner of trifling with his temper, give no very favourable idea of her own.”
“Well, my Lord,” said Mr. Lovel, “it must, however, be owned, that uncertainty is not the ton among our ladies at present; nay, indeed, I think they say,-though faith,” taking a pinch of snuff, “I hope it is not true-but they say, that we now are most shy and backward.”
The curtain then drew up, and our conversation ceased. Mr. Lovel, finding we chose to attend to the players, left the box. How strange it is, Sir, that this man, not contented with the large share of foppery and nonsense which he has from nature, should think proper to affect yet more! for what he said of Tattle and of Miss Prue, convinced me that he really had listened to the play, though he was so ridiculous and foolish as to pretend ignorance.
But how malicious and impertinent is this creature to talk to me in such a manner! I am sure I hope I shall never see him again. I should have despised him heartily as a fop, had he never spoken to me at all; but now, that he thinks proper to resent his supposed ill-usage, I am really quite afraid of him.
The entertainment was, The Duece is in Him; which Lord Orville observed to be the most finished and elegant petit piece that was ever written in English.
In our way home, Mrs. Mirvan put me into some consternation by saying, it was evident, from the
resentment which this Mr. Lovel harbours of my conduct, that he would think it a provocation sufficiently important for a duel, if his courage equaled his wrath.
I am terrified at the very idea. Good Heaven! that a man so weak and frivolous should be so revengeful! However, if bravery would have excited him to affront Lord Orville, how much reason have I to rejoice that cowardice makes him contended with venting his spleen upon me! But we shall leave town soon, and, I hope, see him no more.
It was some consolation to me to hear from Miss Mirvan, that, while he was speaking to me so cavalierly, Lord Orville regarded him with great indignation.
But, really, I think there ought to be a book of the laws and customs -e;-la-mode, presented to all young people upon their first introduction into public company.
To-night we go to the opera, where I expect very great pleasure. We shall have the same party as at the play, for Lord Orville said he should be there, and would look for us.
LETTER XXI
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION I HAVE a volume to write of the adventures of yesterday. In the afternoon,-at Berry Hill I should have said the evening, for it was almost six o’clock,-while Miss Mirvan and I were dressing for the opera, and in high spirits from the expectation of great entertainment and pleasure, we heard a carriage stop at the door, and concluded that Sir Clement Willoughby, with his usual assiduity, was come to attend us to the Haymarket; but, in a few moments, what was our surprise to see our chamber door flung open, and the two Miss Branghtons enter the room! They advanced to me with great familiarity, saying, “How do you do, Cousin?-so we’ve caught you at the glass!-well, I’m determined I’ll tell my brother of that!”
Miss Mirvan, who had never before seen them, and could not at first imagine who they were, looked so much astonished, that I was ready to laugh myself, till the eldest said, “We’re come to take you to the opera, Miss; papa and my brother are below, and we are to call for your grand-mama as we go along.”
“I am very sorry,” answered I, “that you should have taken so much trouble, as I am engaged already.”
“Engaged! Lord, Miss, never mind that,” cried the youngest; “this young lady will make your excuses I dare say; it’s only doing as one would be done by, you know.”
“Indeed Ma’am,” said Miss Mirvan, “I shall myself be very sorry to be deprived of Miss Anville’s company this evening.”
“Well, Miss, that is not so very good-natured in you,” said Miss Branghton, “considering we only come to give our cousin pleasure; it’s no good to us; it’s all upon her account; for we came, I don’t know how much round about to take her up.”
“I am extremely obliged to you,” said I, “and very sorry you have lost so much time; but I cannot possibly help it, for I engaged myself without knowing you would call.”
“Lord, what signifies that?” said Miss Polly, “you’re no old maid, and so you needn’t be so very formal: besides I dare say those you are engaged to a’n’t half so near related to you as we are.”
“I must beg you not to press me any further, for I assure you it is not in my power to attend you.”
“Why, we came all out of the city on purpose: besides, your grand-mama expects you;-and, pray, what are we to say to her?”
“Tell her, if you please, that I am much concerned,-but that I am pre-engaged.”
“And who to?” demanded the abrupt Miss Branghton.
“To Mrs. Mirvan,-and a large party.”
“And, pray, what are you all going to do, that it would be such a mighty matter for you to come along with us?”
“We are all going to-to the opera.”
“O dear, if that be all, why can’t we go altogether?”
I was extremely disconcerted at this forward and ignorant behaviour, and yet their rudeness very much lessened my concern at refusing them. Indeed, their dress was such as would have rendered their scheme of accompanying our party impracticable, even if I had desired it; and this, as they did not themselves find it out, I was obliged, in terms the least mortifying I could think of, to tell them.
They were very much chagrined, and asked where I should sit.
“In the pit,” answered I.
“In the pit,” repeated Miss Branghton; “well, really, I must own, I should never have supposed that my gown was not good enough for the pit: but come, Polly, let’s go; if Miss does not think us fine enough for her, why to be sure she may choose.”
Surprised at this ignorance, I would have explained to them, that the pit at the opera required the same dress as the boxes; but they were so much affronted they would not hear me; and, in great displeasure, left the room, saying, they would not have troubled me, only they thought I should not be proud with my own relations, and that they had at least as good a right to my company as strangers.
I endeavoured to apologize, and would have sent a long message to Madame Duval: but they hastened away without listening to me; and I could not follow them down stairs, because I was not dressed. The last words I heard them say were, “Well, her grandmama will be in a fine passion, that’s one good thing.”
Though I was extremely mad at this visit, yet I so heartily rejoiced at their going, that I would not suffer myself to think gravely about it.
Soon after, Sir Clement actually came, and we all went down stairs. Mrs. Mirvan ordered tea; and we were engaged in a very lively conversation, when the servant announced Madame Duval, who instantly followed him into the room.
Her face was the colour of scarlet, and her eyes sparkled with fury. She came up to me with a hasty step, saying, “So, Miss, you refuses to come to me, do you? And pray who are you, to dare to disobey me?”
I was quite frightened;-I made no answer;-I even attempted to rise, and could not, but sat still, mute and motionless.
Everybody but Miss Mirvan seemed in the utmost astonishment; and the Captain rising and approaching Madame Duval, with a voice of authority, said, “Why, how now, Mrs. Turkey-cock, what’s put you into this here fluster?”
“It’s nothing to you,” answered she, “so you may as well hold your tongue; for I shan’t be called to no account by you, I assure you.”
“There you’re out, Madame Fury,” returned he; “for you must know, I never suffer anybody to be in a passion in my house, but myself.”
“But you shall,” cried she, in a great rage; “for I’ll be in as great a passion as ever I please, without asking your leave: so don’t give yourself no more airs about it. And as for you Miss,” again advancing to me, “I order you to follow me this moment, or else I’ll make you repent it all your life.” And, with these words, she flung out of the room.
I was in such extreme terror, at being addressed and threatened in a manner to which I am so wholly unused, that I almost thought I should have fainted.
“Don’t be alarmed, my love,” cried Mrs. Mirvan, “but stay where you are, and I will follow Madame Duval, and try to bring her to reason.”
Miss Mirvan took my hand, and most kindly endeavoured to raise my spirits. Sir Clement, too, approached me, with an air so interested in my distress, that I could not but feel myself obliged to him; and, taking my other hand, said, “For Heaven’s sake, my dear Madam, compose yourself: surely the violence of such a wretch ought merely to move your contempt; she can have no right, I imagine, to lay her commands upon you, and I only wish that you would allow me to speak to her.”
“O no! not for the world!-indeed, I believe,-I am afraid-I had better follow her.”
“Follow her! Good God, my dear Miss Anville, would you trust yourself with a mad woman? for what else can you call a creature whose passions are so insolent? No, no; send her word at once to leave the house, and tell her you desire that she will never see you again.”
“O, Sir! you don’t know who you talk of!-it would ill become me to send Madame Duval such a message.”
“But why,” cried he, (looking very inquisitive,) “why should you scruple to treat her as she deserves?”
I then found that hi
s aim was to discover the nature of her connection with me; but I felt so much ashamed of my near relationship to her, that I could not persuade myself to answer him, and only intreated that he would leave her to Mrs. Mirvan, who just then entered the room.
Before she could speak to me, the Captain, called out, “Well, Goody, what have you done with Madame French? is she cooled a little? cause if she ben’t, I’ve just thought of a most excellent device to bring her to.”
“My dear Evelina,” said Mrs. Mirvan, “I have been vainly endeavouring to appease her; I pleaded your engagement, and promised your future attendance: but I am sorry to say, my love, that I fear her rage will end in a total breach (which I think you had better avoid) if she is any further opposed.”
“Then I will go to her, Madam,” cried I; “and, indeed, it is now no matter, for I should not be able to recover my spirits sufficiently to enjoy much pleasure any where this evening.”
Sir Clement began a very warm expostulation and intreaty, that I would not go; but I begged him to desist, and told him, very honestly, that, if my compliance were not indispensably necessary I should require no persuasion to stay. He then took my hand, to lead me down stairs; but the Captain desired him to be quiet, saying he would ‘squire me himself, “because” he added, (exultingly rubbing his hands) “I have a wipe ready for the old lady, which may serve her to chew as she goes along.”
We found her in the parlour, “O you’re come at last, Miss, are you?-fine airs you give yourself, indeed!-ma foi, if you hadn’t come, you might have staid, I assure you, and have been a beggar, for your pains.”
“Heyday, Madam,” cried the Captain, (prancing forward, with a look of great glee) “what, a’n’t you got out of that there passion yet? why then, I’ll tell you what to do to cool yourself; call upon your old friend, Monseer Slippery, who was with you at Ranelagh, and give my service to him, and tell him, if he sets any store by your health, that I desire he’ll give you such another souse as he did before: he’ll know what I mean, and I’ll warrant you he’ll do’t for my sake.”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 10
