“TO SAMUEL CRISP, ESQ.
“My dear Mr. Crisp,
“My father says I must write you every thing of every sort about
Agujari, that you may get ready, well or ill, to come and hear her.
So pray make haste, and never mind such common obstacles as health or
sickness upon such an occasion.
“La Signora Agujari has been nick-named, my father says, in Italy, from
some misfortune attendant upon her birth—but of which she, at least,
is innocent—La Bastardella. She is now come over to England, in the
prime of her life and her fame, upon an engagement with the proprietors
of the Pantheon, to sing two songs at their concert, at one hundred
pounds a night! My father’s tour in Italy has made his name and his
historical design so well known there in the musical world, that she
immediately desired his acquaintance on her arrival in London; and Dr.
Maty, one of her protectors in this country, was deputed to bring them
together; which he did, in St. Martin’s-Street, last week.
“Dr. Maty is pleasing, intelligent, and well bred; though formal,
precise, and a rather affected little man. But he stands very high,
they say, in the classes of literature and learning; and, moreover, of
character and worthiness.
He handed the Signora, with much pompous ceremony, into the
drawing-room, where—trumpets not being at hand—he introduced her to
my father with a fine flourish of compliments, as a phenomenon now
first letting herself down to grace this pigmy island.
This style of lofty grandeur seemed perfectly accordant with the style
and fancy of the Signora; whose air and deportment announced deliberate
dignity, and a design to strike all beholders with awe, as well as
admiration.
She is a handsome woman, of middle stature, and seems to be about
twenty-four or twenty-five years of age; with a very good and healthy
complexion, becomingly and not absurdly rouged; a well-shaped nose, a
well-cut mouth, and very prominent, rolling, expressive, and dyingly
languishing eyes.
She was attended by Signor Colla, her maestro, and, as some assert, her
husband; but, undoubtedly, her obsequious and inseparable companion. He
is tall, thin, almost fiery when conversing; and tolerably well
furnished with gesture and grimace; _id est_, made up of nothing else.
The talk was all in French or Italian, and almost all between the two
Doctors, Burney and Maty; we rest, being only auditors, except when
something striking was said upon music, or upon some musician; and then
the hot thin Italian, who is probably a Neapolitan, jumped up, and
started forth into an abrupt rhapsody, with such agitation of voice and
manner, that every limb seemed at work almost as nimbly as his tongue.
But la Signora Agujari sat always in placid, majestic silence, when she
was not personally addressed.
Signor Colla expressed the most unbounded veneration for il Signor
Dottore Borni; whose learned character, he said, in Italy, had left
him there a name that had made it an honour to be introduced to _un si
célebre homme_. My father retorted the compliment upon the Agujari;
lamenting that he had missed hearing her abroad, where her talents,
then, were but rising into renown.
Nevertheless, though he naturally concluded that this visit was
designed for granting him that gratification, he was somewhat diffident
how to demand it from one who, in England, never quavers for less
than fifty guineas an air. To pave, therefore, the way to his
request, he called upon Mr. Burney and the Hettina to open the concert
with a duet.
They readily complied; and the Agujari, now, relinquished a part of her
stately solemnity, to give way, though not without palpably marvelling
that it could be called for, to the pleasure that their performance
excited; for pleasure in music is a sensation that she seems to think
ought to be held in her own gift. And, indeed, for vocal music,
Gabrielli is, avowedly, the only exception to her universal disdain.
As Mr. Burney and the Hettina, however, attempted not to invade her
excluding prerogative, they first escaped her supercilious contempt,
and next caught her astonished attention; which soon, to our no small
satisfaction, rose to open, lively, and even vociferous rapture. In
truth, I believe, she was really glad to be surprised out of her
fatiguing dumb grandeur.
This was a moment not to be lost, and my father hinted his wishes to
Dr. Maty; Dr. Maty hinted them to Signor Colla; but Signor Colla did
not take the hint of hinting them to La Bastardella. He shrugged, and
became all gesticulation, and answered that the Signora would
undoubtedly sing to the Signor Dottore Borni; but that, at this moment,
she had a slight sore throat; and her desire, when she performed to il
Signor Dottore Borni was, _si possible_, he added, to surpass herself.
We were all horribly disappointed; but Signor Colla made what amends
he could, by assuring us that we had never yet known what singing
was! “_car c’est une prodêge, Messieurs et Mesdames, que la Signora
Agujari_.”
My father bowed his acquiescence; and then enquired whether she had
been at the opera?
“‘O no;’ Signor Colla answered; ‘she was too much afraid of that
complaint which all her countrymen who travelled to England had so
long lamented, and which the English call catch-cold, to venture to a
theatre.’
“Agujari then condescended to inquire whether _il Signor Dottore_ had
heard the Gabrielli?
“‘Not yet,’ he replied; ‘he waited her coming to England. He had missed
her in Italy, from her having passed that year in Sicily.’
“‘_Ah Diable!_’ exclaimed the Bastardini, ‘_mais c’est dommage!_’
“This familiar ‘_Diable!_’ from such majestic loftiness, had a very
droll effect.
“‘_Et vous, Signora, l’avez-vous entendue?_’
“‘_O que non!_’ answered she, quite bluffly; ‘_cela n’est pas
possible!_’
“And we were alarmed to observe that she looked highly affronted;
though we could not possibly conjecture why, till Signor Colla, in a
whisper, represented the error of the inquiry, by saying, that two
first singers could never meet.
“‘True!’ Dr. Maty cried; ‘two suns never light us at once.’
“The Signora, to whom this was repeated in Italian, presently recovered
her placid dignity by the blaze of these two suns; and, before she went
away, was in such perfect amity with _il Signor Dottore_, that she
voluntarily declared she would come again, when her sore throat was
over, and _chanter comme il faut_.”
* * * * *