My father dined with them both the other day, at the manager’s, Mrs. Brookes, the author, and Mrs. Yates, the ci-devant actress. Rauzzini sang a great many sweet airs, and very delightfully; but Gabrielli not a note! Neither did any one presume to ask for such a favour. Her sister was of the party also, who they say cannot sing at all; but Gabrielli insisted upon having her engaged, and advantageously, or refused, peremptorily, to come over.
“Nothing can exceed the impatience of people of all ranks, and all ways of thinking, concerning this so celebrated singer. And if you do not come to town to hear her, I shall conclude you lost to all the Saint Cecilian powers of attraction; and that you are become as indifferent to music, as to dancing or to horse-racing. For my own part, if any thing should unfortunately prevent my hearing her first performance, I shall set it down in my memory ever after, as a very serious misfortune. Don’t laugh so, dear daddy, pray!
Written the week following.
“How I rejoice, for once, in your hard-heartedness! how ashamed I should have been if you had come, dearest Sir, to my call! The Gabrielli did not sing! And she let all London, and all the country too, I believe, arrive at the theatre before it was proclaimed that she was not to appear! Every one of our family, and of every other family that I know, — and that I don’t know besides, were at the Opera House at an early hour. We, who were to enter at a private door, per favour of Mrs. Brookes, rushed past all handbills, not thinking them worth heeding. Poor Mr. Yates, the manager, kept running from one outlet to another, to relate the sudden desperate hoarseness of la Signora Gabrielli; and, supplicate patience, and, moreover, credence, — now from the box openings, now from the pit, now from the galleries. Had he been less active, or less humble, it is thought the theatre would have been pulled down; so prodigious was the rage of the large assemblage; none of them in the least believing that Gabrielli had the slightest thing the matter with her.
“My father says people do not think that singers have the capacity of having such a thing as a cold!
“The murmurs, ‘ What a shame!’— ‘how scandalous!’— ‘what insolent airs!’ — kept Mr. Yates upon the alert from post to post, to the utmost stretch of his ability; though his dolorous countenance painted his full conviction that he himself was the most seriously to be pitied of the party; for it was clear that he said, in soliloquy, upon every one that he sent away: ‘ There goes half a guinea! — or, at the least, three shillings, — if not five, out of my pocket!’
“We all returned home in horrible ill-humour; but solacing ourselves with a candid determination, taken in a true spirit of liberality, that though she should sing even better than Agujari, we would not like her!
My father called upon the managers to know what all this meant; and Mrs. Brookes then told him, that all that had been reported of the extraordinary wilfulness of this spoilt child of talent and beauty, was exceeded by her behaviour. She only sent them word that she was out of voice, and could not sing, one hour before the house must be opened! They instantly hurried to her to expostulate, or rather to supplicate, for they dare neither reproach nor command; and to represent the utter impossibility of getting up any other opera so late; and to acknowledge their terror, even for their property, upon the fury of an English audience, if disappointed so bluffly at the last moment.
To this she answered very coolly, but with smiles and politeness, that if le monde expected her so eagerly, she would dress herself, and let the opera be performed; only, when her songs came to their simphony, instead of singing, she would make a courtesey, and point to her throat.
“‘You may imagine, Doctor,” said Mrs. Brookes, ‘ whether we could trust John Bull with so easy a lady! and at the very instant his ears were opening to hear her so vaunted performance!’
* * * * *
“Well, my dear Mr. Crisp, now for Saturday, and now for the real opera. We all went again. There was a prodigious house; such a one, for fashion at least, as, before Christmas, never yet was seen. For though every body was afraid there would be a riot, and that Gabrielli would be furiously hissed, from the spleen of the late disappointment, nobody could stay away; for her whims and eccentricities only heighten curiosity for beholding her person.
“The opera was Metastasio’s Didone, and the part for Gabrielli was new set by Sacchini.
“In the first scene, Rauzzini and Sestini appeared with la Signora Francesca, the sister of Gabrielli. They prepared us for the approach of the blazing comet that burst forth in the second.
“Nothing could be more noble than her entrance. It seemed instantaneously to triumph over her enemies, and conquer her threateners. The stage was open to its furthest limits, and she was discerned at its most distant point; and, for a minute or two, there dauntlessly she stood; and then took a sweep, with a firm, but accelerating step; and a deep, finely flowing train, till she reached the orchestra. There she stopt, amidst peals of applause, that seemed as if they would have shaken the foundations of the theatre.
“What think you now of John Bull?
“I had quite quivered for her, in expectation of cat-calling and hissings; but the intrepidity of her appearance and approach, quashed all his resentment into surprised admiration.
“She is still very pretty, though not still very young. She has small, intelligent, sparkling features; and though she is rather short, she is charmingly proportioned, and has a very engaging figure. All her notions are graceful, her air is full of dignity, and her walk is majestic.
“Though the applause was so violent, she seemed to think it so simply her due, that she deigned not to honour it with the slightest mark of acknowledgment, but calmly began her song.
“John Bull, however, enchained, as I believe, by the reported vagaries of her character, and by the high delight he expected from her talents, clapped on, — clap, clap, clap! — with such assiduous noise, that not a note could be heard, nor a notion be started that any note was sung. Unwilling, then, “To waste her sweetness on the clamorous air,” and perhaps growing a little gratified to find she could “soothe the savage breast,” she condescended to make an Italian courtesey, i.e. a slight, but dignified bow.
“Honest John, who had thought she would not accept his homage, but who, through the most abrupt turn from resentment to admiration, had resolved to bear with all her freaks, was so enchanted by this affability, that clapping he went on, till, I have little doubt, the skin of his battered hands went off; determining to gain another gentle salutation whether she would or not, as an august sign that she was not displeased with him for being so smitten, and so humble.
“After this, he suffered the orchestra to be heard.
“Gabrielli, however, was not flattered into spoiling her flatterers. Probably she liked the spoiling too well to make it over to them. Be that as it may, she still kept expectation on the rack, by giving us only recitative, till every other performer had tired our reluctant attention.
“At length, however, came the grand bravura, ‘Son — Regina, e sono Amante.’
“Here I must stop! — Ah, Mr. Crisp! why would she take words that had been sung by Agujari?
“Opinions are so different, you must come and judge for yourself. Praise and censure are bandied backwards and forwards, as if they were two shuttlecocks between two battledores. The Son Regina was the only air of consequence that she even attempted; all else were but bits; pretty enough, but of no force or character for a great singer.
“How unfortunate that she should take the words, even though to other music, that we had heard from Agujari! — Oh! She is no Agujari!
“In short, and to come to the truth, she disappointed us all egregiously.
However, my dear father, who beyond any body tempers his judgment with indulgence, pronounces her a very capital singer.
“But she visibly took no pains to exert herself, and appeared so impertinently easy, that I believe she thought it condescension enough for us poor savage Islanders to see her stand upon the stage, and let us look at her. Y
et it must at least be owned, that the tone of her voice, though feeble, is remarkably sweet; that her action is judicious and graceful, and that her style and manner of singing are masterly.”
CONCERT. — EXTRACT V.
“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 any thing new to tell you. The music has always been the same: the matrimonial duets are so much á 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. Petersburgh, 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 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 eyebrow 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 we 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 shew 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.
“Dr. Burney. ‘ Your Ladyship was certainly at the Opera last night?’
“Lady Edgcumbe. ‘ O yes! — but I have not heard the Gabrielli! I cannot allow that I have yet heard her.’
“Dr. Burney. ‘ Your Ladyship expected a more powerful voice?’
“Lady Edgcumbe. ‘Why n-o — not much. The shadow can tell what the substance must be; but she cannot have acquired this great reputation throughout Europe for nothing. I therefore repeat that I have not yet heard her. She must have had a cold. — But, for me — I have heard Mingotti! — I have heard Montecelli! — I have heard Mansuoli! — and I shall never hear them again!’
“The Dean. ‘ But, Lady Edgcumbe, may not Gabrielli have great powers, and yet have too weak a voice for so large a theatre?’
“Lady Edgcumbe. ‘ Our theatre, Mr. Dean, is of no size to what she has been accustomed to abroad. But, — Dr. Burney, I have also heard the Agujari!’
“Hettina, Fanny, Susanna. ‘ Oh! Agujari! ‘ (All three speaking with clasped hands.)
“Dr. Burney (laughing). ‘ Your ladyship darts into all their hearts by naming Agujari! However, I have hopes you will hear her again.
“Lady Edgcumbe. ‘ O, Dr. Burney! bring her but to the Opera, — and I shall grow crazy!’
“I assure you, my dear Mr. Crisp, we all longed to embrace her ladyship. And she met our sympathy with a good humour full of pleasure. My father added, that we all doated upon Agujari.
“Lady Edgcumbe. ‘O! she is incomparable I — Mark but the difference, Dr. Burney; by Gabrielli, Rauzzini seems to have a great voice; — by Agujari, he seemed to have that of a child.’ —
“Tat, tat, tat, tat, too.
“Enter The HON. MR. and MRS. BRUDENEL.
“Mr. Brudenell, commonly called ‘ His Honour,’ from high birth, I suppose, without title, or from some quaint old cause that nobody knows who has let me into its secret, is tall and stiff, and strongly in the ton of the present day; which is anything rather than macaroniism; for it consists of unbounded freedom and ease, with a short, abrupt, dry manner of speech; and in taking the liberty to ask any question that occurs upon other people’s affairs and opinions; even upon their incomes and expences; — nay, even upon their age!
“Did you ever hear of any thing so shocking?
“I do not much mind it now; but, when I grow older, I intend recommending to have this part of their code abolished.
“Mrs. Brudenel is very obliging and pleasing; and of as great fame as a lady singer, as Lady Edgcumbe is as a first rate lady player.
“The usual question being asked of La Gabrielli; “Mrs. Brudenel. ‘ O, Lady Edgcumbe and I are entirely of the same opinion; we agree that we have not yet heard her.’
“Lady Edgcumbe. ‘ The ceremony of her quitting the theatre after the opera is over, is extremely curious. First goes a man in livery to clear the way; then follows the sister; then the Gabrielli herself. Then, a little foot-page, to bear her train; and, lastly, another man, who carries her muff, in which is her lap-dog.’
“Mr. Brudenel. ‘ But where is Lord March all this time?’
“Lady Edgcumbe (laughing). ‘ Lord March? O, — he, you know, is First Lord of the Bed chamber! ‘ —
“Tat, tat, tat, tat.
“Enter M. le BARON DE DEMIDOFF.
“He is a Russian nobleman, who travels with Prince Orloff; and he preceded his Highness with fresh apologies, and a desire that the concert might not wait, as he would only shew himself at Lady Harrington’s, and hasten hither.
“My father then attended Lady Edgcumbe to the Library, and Mr. Burney took his place at the harpsichord.
“We all followed. He was extremely admired; but I have nothing new to tell you upon that subject.
“Then enter Mr. Chamier. Then followed several others; and then “Enter MR. HARRIS, of Salisbury.
“Susan and I quite delighted in his sight, he is so amiable to talk with, and so benevolent to look at. Lady Edgcumbe rose to meet him, saying he was her particular old friend. He then placed himself by Susan and me, and renewed acquaintance in the most pleasing manner possible. I told him we were all afraid he would be tired to death of so much of one thing, for we had nothing to offer him but again the duet. ‘That is the very reason I solicited to come,’ he answered; ‘ I was so much charmed the last time, that I begged Dr. Burney to give me a repetition of the same pleasure.’
“‘Then — of course, the opera? The Gabrielli?’
“Mr. Harris declared himself her partizan.
“Lady Edgcumbe warmed up ardently for Agajari.
“Mr. Dean. ‘ But pray, Dr. Burney, why should not these two melodious signoras sing together, that we might judge them fairly?’
“Dr. Burney. ‘ Oh! the rivalry would be too strong. It would create a musical war. It would be Caesar and Pompey.’
“Lady Edgcumbe. ‘ Pompey the Little, then, I am sure would be la Gabrielli!’
“Enter LORD BRUCE.
“He is a younger brother not only of the Duke of Montagu, but of his Honour Brudenel. How the titles came to be so awkwardly arranged in this family is no affair of mine; so you will excuse my sending you to the Herald’s Office, if you want that information, my dear Mr. Crisp; though as you are one of the rare personages who are skilled in every thing yourself, — at least so says my father; — and he is a Doctor, you know! — I dare say you will genealogize the matter to me at once, when next I come to dear Chesington.
“He is tall, thin, and plain, but remarkably sensible, agreeable, and polite; as, I believe, are very generally all those keen looking Scotchmen; for Scotch, not from his accent, but his name, I conclude him of course. Can Bruce be other than Scotch? They are far more entertaining, I think, as well as informing, taken in the common run, than we silentious English; who, taken en masse, are tolerably dull.
“The Opera? — the Gabrielli? — were now again brought forward. Lady Edgcumbe, who is delightfully music mad, was so animated, that she was quite the life of the company.
“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 shrunk 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.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 397