How great is my obligation to Mrs Mirvan, for bestowing her time in a manner so disagreeable to herself, merely to promote my happiness! every dispute in which her undeserving husband engages, is productive of pain, and uneasiness to herself; of this I am so sensible, that I even besought her not to send to Madame Duval, but she declared she could not bear to have me pass all my time, while in town, with her only. Indeed she could not be more kind to me, were she your daughter.
Letter Nineteen
Evelina in continuation
Saturday morning, April 16
Madame Duval was accompanied by Monsieur Du Bois. I am surprised that she should chuse to introduce him where he is so unwelcome; and, indeed, it is strange that they should be so constantly together: though I believe I should not have taken notice of it, but that Captain Mirvan is perpetually rallying me upon my grand-mama’s beau.
They were both received by Mrs Mirvan with her usual good-breeding; but the Captain, most provokingly, attacked her immediately, saying, ‘Now, Madam, you that have lived abroad, please to tell me this here; Which did you like best, the warm room at Ranelagh, or the cold bath you went into afterwards? though, I assure you, you look so well that I should advise you to take another dip.’
‘Ma foi, Sir,’ cried she, ‘nobody asked for your advice, so you may as well keep it to yourself: besides, it’s no such great joke to be splashed, and to catch cold, and spoil all one’s things, whatever you may think of it.’
‘Splashed, quoth-a! – why I thought you were soused all over. – Come, come, don’t mince the matter, never spoil a good story; you know you had n’t a dry thread about you – ’Fore George, I shall never think on’t without hallowing! such a poor, forlorn, draggle-tailed – gentlewoman! and poor Monseer French, here, like a drowned rat, by your side! – ’
‘Well, the worse pickle we was in, so much the worser in you not to help us, for you knowed where we were fast enough, because, while I laid in the mud, I’m pretty sure I heard you snigger; so it’s like enough you jostled us down yourself, for Monsieur Du Bois says, that he is sure he had a great jolt given him, or he should n’t have fell.’
The Captain laughed so immoderately, that he really gave me also a suspicion that he was not entirely innocent of the charge; however, he disclaimed it very peremptorily.
‘Why then,’ continued she, ‘if you did n’t do that, why did n’t you come to help us?’
‘Who, I? – what, do you suppose I had forgot I was an Englishman, a filthy, beastly Englishman?’
‘Very well, Sir, very well; but I was a fool to expect any better, for it’s all of a piece with the rest; you know you wanted to fling me out of the coach-window, the very first time ever I see you: but I’ll never go to Ranelagh with you no more, that I’m resolved; for I dare say, if the horses had runn’d over me, as I laid in that nastiness, you’d never have stirred a step to save me.’
‘Lord, no, to be sure, Ma’am, not for the world! I know your opinion of our nation too well, to affront you by supposing a Frenchman would want my assistance to protect you. Did you think that Monseer here, and I, had changed characters, and that he should pop you into the mud, and I help you out of it? Ha, ha, ha!’
‘O, very well, Sir, laugh on, it’s like your manners; however, if poor Monsieur Du Bois had n’t met with that unlucky accident himself, I should n’t have wanted nobody’s help.’
‘O, I promise you, Madam, you’d never have had mine; I knew my distance better; and as to your being a little ducked, or so, why, to be sure, Monseer and you settled that between yourselves; so it was no business of mine.’
‘What, then, I suppose, you want to make me believe as Monsieur Du Bois served me that trick o’ purpose?’
‘O’ purpose! ay, certainly, who ever doubted that? Do you think a Frenchman ever made a blunder? If he had been some clumsy-footed English fellow, indeed, it might have been accidental: but what the devil signifies all your hopping and capering with your dancing-masters, if you can’t balance yourselves upright?’
In the midst of this dialogue, Sir Clement Willoughby made his appearance. He affects to enter the house with the freedom of an old acquaintance, and this very easiness, which, to me, is astonishing, is what most particularly recommends him to the Captain. Indeed, he seems very successfully to study all the humours of that gentleman.
After having heartily welcomed him, ‘You are just come in time, my boy,’ said he, ‘to settle a little matter of a dispute between this here gentlewoman and I; do you know, she has been trying to persuade me, that she did not above half like the ducking Monseer gave her t’other night?’
‘I should have hoped,’ said Sir Clement, with the utmost gravity, ‘that the friendship subsisting between that lady and gentleman, would have guarded them against any actions professedly disagreeable to each other; but, probably, they might not have discussed the matter previously; in which case, the gentleman, I must own, seems to have been guilty of inattention, since, in my humble opinion, it was his business first to have enquired whether the lady preferred soft, or hard ground, before he dropped her.’
‘O very fine, Gentlemen, very fine,’ cried Madame Duval, ‘you may try to set us together by the ears as much as you will; but I’m not such an ignorant person as to be made a fool of so easily; so you need n’t talk no more about it, for I sees into your designs.’
Monsieur Du Bois, who was just able to discover the subject upon which the conversation turned, made his defence, in French, with great solemnity: he hoped, he said, that the company would at least acknowledge, he did not come from a nation of brutes, and consequently, that to wilfully offend any lady, was, to him, utterly impossible; but that, on the contrary, in endeavouring, as was his duty, to save and guard her, he had himself suffered, in a manner which he would forbear to relate, but which, he greatly apprehended, he should feel the ill effects of for many months; and then, with a countenance exceedingly lengthened, he added, that he hoped it would not be attributed to him as national prejudice, when he owned that he must, to the best of his memory, aver, that his unfortunate fall was owing to a sudden, but violent push, which, he was shocked to say, some malevolent person, with a design to his injury, must certainly have given him; but whether with a view to mortify him, by making him let the lady fall, or whether merely to spoil his clothes, he could not pretend to determine.
This disputation was, at last, concluded by Mrs Mirvan’s proposing that we should all go to Cox’s Museum. Nobody objected, and carriages were immediately ordered.
In our way down stairs, Madame Duval, in a very passionate manner, said, ‘Ma foi, if I would n’t give fifty guineas only to know who gave us that shove!’
This Museum is very astonishing, and very superb; yet, it afforded me but little pleasure, for it is a mere shew, though a wonderful one.
Sir Clement Willoughby, in our walk round the room, asked me what my opinion was of this brilliant spectacle?
‘It is very fine, and very ingenious,’ answered I, ‘and yet – I don’t know how it is, – but I seem to miss something.’
‘Excellently answered!’ cried he, ‘you have exactly defined my own feelings, though in a manner I should never have arrived at. But I was certain your taste was too well formed, to be pleased at the expence of your understanding.’
‘Pardi,’ cried Madame Duval, ‘I hope you two is difficult enough! I’m sure if you don’t like this, you like nothing; for it’s the grandest, prettiest, finest sight that ever I see, in England.’
‘What,’ cried the Captain with a sneer, ‘I suppose this may be in your French taste? it’s like enough, for it’s all kickshaw work. But, pr’ythee, friend,’ (turning to the person who explained the devices) ‘will you tell me the use of all this? for I’m not enough of a conjurer to find it out.’
‘Use, indeed!’ repeated Madame Duval disdainfully, ‘Lord, if every thing’s to be useful! – ’
‘Why, Sir, as to that, Sir,’ said our conductor, ‘the ingenuity of the mechanism, – the b
eauty of the workmanship, – the – undoubtedly, Sir, any person of taste may easily discern the utility of such extraordinary performances.’
‘Why then, Sir,’ answered the Captain, ‘your person of taste must be either a coxcomb, or a Frenchman; though, for the matter of that, ’tis the same thing.’
Just then, our attention was attracted by a pine-apple, which, suddenly opening, discovered a nest of birds, who immediately began to sing. ‘Well,’ cried Madame Duval, ‘this is prettier than all the rest! I declare, in all my travels, I never see nothing eleganter.’
‘Hark ye, friend,’ said the Captain, ‘hast never another pineapple?’
‘Sir? – ’
‘Because, if thou hast, pr’ythee give it us without the birds; for, d’ye see, I’m no Frenchman, and should relish something more substantial.’
This entertainment concluded with a concert of mechanical music: I cannot explain how it was produced, but the effect was pleasing. Madame Duval was in extacies; and the Captain flung himself into so many ridiculous distortions, by way of mimicking her, that he engaged the attention of all the company; and, in the midst of the performance of the Coronation Anthem, while Madame Duval was affecting to beat time, and uttering many expressions of delight, he called suddenly for salts, which a lady, apprehending some distress, politely handed to him, and which, instantly applying to the nostrils of poor Madame Duval, she involuntarily snuffed up such a quantity, that the pain and surprise made her scream aloud. When she recovered, she reproached him, with her usual vehemence; but he protested he had taken that measure out of pure friendship, as he concluded, from her raptures, that she was going into hysterics. This excuse by no means appeased her, and they had a violent quarrel; but the only effect her anger had on the Captain, was to increase his diversion. Indeed, he laughs and talks so terribly loud in public, that he frequently makes us ashamed of belonging to him.
Madame Duval, notwithstanding her wrath, made no scruple of returning to dine in Queen-Ann-Street. Mrs Mirvan had secured places for the play at Drury-Lane Theatre, and, though ever uneasy in her company, she very politely invited Madame Duval to be of our party; however, she had a bad cold, and chose to nurse it. I was sorry for her indisposition, but I knew not how to be sorry she did not accompany us, for she is – I must not say what, but very unlike other people.
Letter Twenty
Evelina in continuation
Our places were in the front row of a side-box. Sir Clement Willoughby, who knew our intention, was at the door of the Theatre, and handed us from the carriage.
We had not been seated five minutes, before Lord Orville, who we saw in the stage-box, came to us; and he honoured us with his company all the evening. Miss Mirvan and I both rejoiced that Madame Duval was absent, as we hoped for the enjoyment of some conversation, uninterrupted by her quarrels with the Captain: but I soon found that her presence would have made very little alteration, for so far was I from daring to speak, that I knew not where even to look.
The play was Love for Love, and though it is fraught with wit and entertainment, I hope I shall never see it represented again; for it is so extremely indelicate, – to use the softest word I can, – that Miss Mirvan and I were perpetually out of countenance, and could neither make any observations ourselves, nor venture to listen to those of others. This was the more provoking, as Lord Orville was in excellent spirits, and exceedingly entertaining.
When the Play was over, I flattered myself I should be able to look about me with less restraint, as we intended to stay for the Farce, but the curtain had hardly dropped, when the box-door opened, and in came Mr Lovel, the man by whose foppery and impertinence I was so much teazed at the ball where I first saw Lord Orville.
I turned away my head, and began talking to Miss Mirvan, for I was desirous to avoid speaking to him; – but in vain, for as soon as he had made his compliments to Lord Orville and Sir Clement Willoughby, who returned them very coldly, he bent his head forward, and said to me, ‘I hope, Ma’am, you have enjoyed your health since I had the honour – I beg ten thousand pardons, but I protest I was going to say the honour of dancing with you – however, I mean the honour of seeing you dance?’
He spoke with a self-complacency that convinced me he had studied this address, by way of making reprisals for my conduct at the ball: I therefore bowed slightly, but made no answer.
After a short silence, he again called my attention, by saying, in an easy, negligent way, ‘I think, Ma’am, you was never in town before?’
‘No, Sir.’
‘So I did presume. Doubtless, Ma’am, every thing must be infinitely novel to you. Our customs, our manners, and les etiquettes de nous autres,* can have very little resemblance to those you have been used to. I imagine, Ma’am, your retirement is at no very small distance from the capital?’
I was so much disconcerted at this sneering speech, that I said not a word; though I have since thought my vexation both stimulated and delighted him.
‘The air we breathe here, however, Ma’am,’ continued he, very conceitedly, ‘though foreign to that you have been accustomed to, has not, I hope, been at varience with your health?’
‘Mr Lovel,’ said Lord Orville, ‘could not your eye have spared that question?’
‘O, my Lord,’ answered he, ‘if health were the only cause of a lady’s bloom, my eye, I grant, had been infallible from the first glance; but – ’
‘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 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 Jezabel 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’s too good for them; for I’ll maintain it’s one of the best comedies in the language, and has more wit in one scene, than there is in all the new plays put tog
ether.’
‘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 affectionately fixing his eyes upon a diamond-ring on his little finger) ‘pray – what was the play tonight?’
‘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 playbills; 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 that you’re alive! Well, faith, my friends should all think me dead and under ground, before I’d be at that expence for ’em. Howsomever, this here you may take from me; – they’ll find you out fast enough, if you’ve any thing 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 fobbed 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?’
Evelina Page 9
