History of the Opera from its Origin in Italy to the present Time

MADEMOISELLE NOBLET

Male dancers have, I am glad to think, never been much esteemed in England; and Albert, though successful enough, produced nothing like the same impression in London which he was in the habit of causing in Paris. Mademoiselle Noblet's dancing, on the other hand, excited the greatest enthusiasm, and the subscribers made all possible exertions to obtain a prolongation of her congé when the time for her return to the Académie arrived. Noblet's performance in the ballet of Nina (of which the subject is identical with that of Paisiello's opera of the same name) is said to have been particularly admirable, especially for the great dramatic talent which she exhibited in pourtraying the heroine's melancholy madness. Nina was announced for Mademoiselle Noblet's benefit, on a night not approved by the Lord Chamberlain – either because it interfered with some of the court regulations, or for some other reason not explained. The secretary to the committee of the Opera was directed to address a letter to the Chamberlain, representing to him how inconvenient it would be to postpone the benefit, as the congé of the bénéficiaire was now on the point of expiring. Lord Hertford, with becoming politeness, wrote the following letter, which shows with what deep interest the graceful dancer inspired even those who knew her only by reputation. The letter was addressed to the Marquis of Ailesbury, one of the members of the operatic committee.

"My dear Lord, – I have this moment (eleven o'clock) received your letter, which I have sent to the Chamberlain's office to Mr. Mash; and as Mademoiselle Noblet is a very pretty woman as I am told, I hope she will call there to assist in the solicitation which interests her so much. Not having been for many years at the opera, except for the single purpose of attending his majesty, I am no judge of the propriety of her request or the objections which may arise to the postponement of her benefit for one day at so short a notice. I hope the fair solicitress will be prepared with an answer on this part of the subject, as it is always my wish to accommodate you; and I remain most sincerely your very faithful servant,

"INGRAM HERTFORD."

"Manchester Square,

April 29th, 1821."

Mademoiselle Noblet's benefit having taken place, the subscribers, horrified at the notion that they had now, perhaps, seen her for the last time, determined, in spite of all obstacles, in spite even of the very explicit agreement between the director of the King's Theatre and the administration of the Académie Royale, that she should remain in London. The danseuse was willing enough to prolong her stay, but the authorities at the French Opera protested. The Academy of Music was not going to be deprived in this way of one of the greatest ornaments of its ballet, and the Count de Caraman, on behalf of the Academy, called on the committee to direct Mr. Ebers to send over to Paris, without delay, the performers whose congés were now at an end. The members of the committee replied that they had only power to interfere as regarded the choice of operas and ballets, and that they had nothing to do with agreements between the manager and the performers. They added, "that they had certainly employed their influence with the English ambassador at Paris at the commencement of the season, to obtain the best artists from that city; but it appearing that the Academy was not disposed to grant congés for London, even to artists, for whose services the Academy had no occasion, the committee had determined not again to meddle in that branch of the management."

TERPSICHOREAN TREATY

The French now sent over an ambassador extraordinary, the Baron de la Ferté himself, to negotiate for the restoration of the deserters. It was decided, however, that they should be permitted to remain until the end of the season; and, moreover, that two first and two second dancers should be allowed annually to come to London, but only under the precise stipulations contained in the following treaty, which was signed between Mr. Ebers, on the one hand, and M. Duplantys on the part of Viscount de la Rochefoucault, on the other.

"The administration of the Theatre of the Royal Academy of Music, wishing to facilitate to the administration of the theatre of London, the means of making known the French artists of the ballet without this advantage being prejudicial to the Opera of Paris;

"Consents to grant to Mr. Ebers for each season, the first commencing on the 10th of January, and ending the 20th of April, and the second ending the 1st of August, two first dancers, two figurants, and two figurantes; but in making this concession, the administration of the Royal Academy of Music reserves the right of only allowing those dancers to leave Paris to whom it may be convenient to grant a congé; this rule applies equally to the figurants and figurantes. None of them can leave the Paris theatre except by the formal permission of the authorities.

"And in return for these concessions, Mr. Ebers promises to engage no dancer until he has first obtained the necessary authorization in accordance with his demand.

"He engages not under any pretext to keep the principal dancers a longer time than has been agreed without a fresh permission, and above all, to make them no offers with the view of enticing them from their permanent engagements with the French authorities.

"The present treaty is for the space of * * *.

"In case of Mr. Ebers failing in one of the articles of the said treaty, the whole treaty becomes null and void."

BOISGERARD IN THE TEMPLEMARIA MERCANDOTTI

The prime mover in the diplomatic transactions which had the effect of securing Mademoiselle Noblet far the London Opera was, as I have said, the ballet master, Boisgerard, formerly an officer in the French army. In a chapter which is intended to show to some extent the effect on opera of the disturbed state of Europe consequent on the French Revolution, it will, perhaps, not be out of place to relate a very daring exploit performed by the said M. Boisgerard, which was the cause of his adopting an operatic career. "This gentleman," says Mr. Ebers, in the account published by him of his administration of the King's Theatre from 1821 to 1828, "was a Frenchman of good extraction, and at the period of the French Revolution, was attached to the royal party. When Sir Sidney Smith was confined in the Temple, Boisgerard acted up to his principles by attempting, and with great personal risk, effecting the escape of that distinguished officer, whose friends were making every effort for his liberation. Having obtained an impression of the seal of the Directorial Government, he affixed it to an order, forged by himself, for the delivery of Sir Sidney Smith into his care. Accompanied by a friend, disguised like himself, in the uniform of an officer of the revolutionary army, he did not scruple personally to present the fictitious document to the keeper of the Temple, who, opening a small closet, took thence some original document, with the writing and seal of which, he carefully compared the forged order. Desiring the adventurers to wait a few minutes, he then withdrew, and locked the door after him. Giving themselves up for lost, the confederate determined to resist, sword in hand, any attempt made to secure them. The period which thus elapsed, may be imagined as one of the most horrible suspense to Boisgerard and his companion; his own account of his feelings at the time was extremely interesting. Left alone, and in doubt whether each succeeding moment might not be attended by a discovery involving the safety of his life, the acuteness of his organs of sense was heightened to painfulness; the least noise thrilled through his brain, and the gloomy apartment in which he sat seemed filled with strange images. They preserved their self-possession, and, after the lapse of a few minutes, their anxiety was determined by the re-appearance of the gaoler, accompanied by his captive, who was delivered to Boisgerard. But here a new and unlooked for difficulty occurred; Sir Sidney Smith, not knowing Boisgerard, refused, for some time, to quit the prison; and considerable address was required on the part of his deliverers to overcome his scruples. At last, the precincts of the Temple were cleared; and, after going a short distance in a fiacre, then walking, then entering another carriage, and so on, adopting every means of baffling pursuit, the fugitives got to Havre, where Sir Sidney was put on board an English vessel. Boisgerard, on his return to Paris (for he quitted Sir Sidney at Havre) was a thousand times in dread of detection; tarrying at an auberge, he was asked whether he had heard the news of Sir Sidney's escape; the querist adding, that four persons had been arrested on suspicion of having been instrumental in it. However, he escaped all these dangers, and continued at Paris until his visit to England, which took place after the peace of Amiens. A pension had been granted to Sir Sidney Smith for his meritorious services; and, on Boisgerard's arrival here, a reward of a similar nature was bestowed on him through the influence of Sir Sidney, who took every opportunity of testifying his gratitude."

We have already seen that though the international character of the Opera must always be seriously interfered with by international wars, the intelligent military amateur may yet be able to turn his European campaigning to some operatic advantage. The French officers acquired a taste for Italian music in Italy. So an English officer serving in the Peninsula, imbibed a passion for Spanish dancing, to which was due the choregraphic existence of the celebrated Maria Mercandotti, – by all accounts one of the most beautiful girls and one of the most charming dancers that the world ever saw. This inestimable treasure was discovered by Lord Fife – a keen-eyed connoisseur, who when Maria was but a child, foretold the position she would one day occupy, if her mother would but allow her to join the dancing school of the French Academy. Madame Mercandotti brought her daughter to England when she was fifteen. The young Spaniard danced a bolero one night at the Opera, repeated it a few days afterwards at Brighton, before Queen Charlotte, and then set off to Paris, where she joined the Académie. After a very short period of study, she made her début with success, such as scarcely any dancer had obtained at the French Opera, since the time of La Camargo – herself, by the way, a Spaniard.

Mademoiselle Mercandotti came to London, was received with the greatest enthusiasm, was the fashionable theme of one entire operatic season, had a number of poems, valuable presents, and offers of undying affection addressed to her, and ended by marrying Mr. Hughes Ball.

The production of this danseuse appears to have seen the last direct result of that scattering of the amateurs of one nation among the artists of another, which was produced by the European convulsions of from 1789 to 1815.

CHAPTER XV.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS AT THE LONDON OPERA, HALF A CENTURY SINCE

A MANAGER IN THE BENCH

A COMPLETE History of the Opera would include a history of operatic music, a history of operatic dancing, a history of the chief operatic theatres, and a history of operatic society. I have made no attempt to treat the subject on such a grand scale; but though I shall have little to say about the principal lyrical theatres of Europe, or of the habits of opera-goers as a European class, there is one great musical dramatic establishment, to whose fortunes I must pay some special attention, and concerning whose audiences much may be said that will at least interest an English reader. After several divided reigns at the Lincoln's Inn Theatre, at Covent Garden, at the Pantheon, and at the King's Theatre, Italian Opera found itself, in 1793, established solely and majestically at the last of these houses, which I need hardly remind the reader was its first home in England. The management was now exercised by Mr. Taylor, the proprietor. This gentleman, who was originally a banker's clerk, appears to have had no qualification for his more exalted position, beyond the somewhat questionable one of a taste for speculation. He is described as having had "all Sheridan's deficiency of financial arrangement, without that extraordinary man's resources." Nevertheless he was no bad hand at borrowing money. All the advances, however, made to him by his friends, to enable him to undertake the management of the Opera, are said to have been repaid. Mr. Ebers, his not unfriendly biographer, finds it difficult to account for this, and can only explain it by the excellent support the Opera received at the period. Mr. Taylor was what in the last century was called "a humorist." Not that he possessed much humour, but he was a queer, eccentric man, and given to practical jokes, which, in the present day, would not be thought amusing even by the friends of those injured by them. On one occasion, Taylor having been prevailed upon to invite a number of persons to breakfast, spread a report that he intended to set them down to empty plates. He, moreover, recommended each of the guests, in an anonymous letter, to turn the tables on the would-be ingenious Taylor, by taking to the déjeuner a supply of suitable provisions, so that the inhospitable inviter might be shamed and the invited enabled to feast in company, notwithstanding his machinations to the contrary. The manager enjoyed such a reputation for liberality that no one doubted the statement contained in the anonymous letter.

Each of the guests sent or took in his carriage a certain quantity of eatables, and when all had arrived, the happy Taylor found his room filled with all the materials for a monster picnic. Breakfast had been prepared, the guests sat down to table, some amused, others disgusted at the hoax which had been practised upon them, and Taylor ordered the game, preserved meats, lobsters, champagne, &c., into his own larder and wine cellar.

Even while directing the affairs of the Opera, Taylor passed a considerable portion of his time in the King's Bench, or within its "rules."

"How can you conduct the management of the King's Theatre," a friend asked him one day, "perpetually in durance as you are?"

"My dear fellow," he replied, "how could I possibly conduct it if I were at liberty? I should be eaten up, sir – devoured. Here comes a dancer, – 'Mr. Taylor, I want such a dress;' another, 'I want such and such ornaments.' One singer demands to sing in a part not allotted to him; another, to have an addition to his appointments. No, let me be shut up and they go to Masterson (Taylor's secretary); he, they are aware, cannot go beyond his line; but if they get at me– pshaw! no man at large can manage that theatre; and in faith," he added, "no man that undertakes it ought to go at large."

Though Mr. Taylor lived within the "rules," the "rules" in no way governed him. He would frequently go away for days together into the country and amuse himself with fishing, of which he appears to have been particularly fond. At one time, while living within the "rules," he inherited a large sum of money, which he took care not to devote to the payment of his debts. He preferred investing it in land, bought an estate in the country (with good fishing), and lived for some months the quiet, peaceable life of an ardent, enthusiastic angler, until at last the sheriffs broke in upon his repose and carried him back captive to prison.

But the most extraordinary exploit performed by Taylor during the period of his supposed incarceration, was of a political nature. He went down to Hull at the time of an election and actually stood for the borough. He was not returned – or rather he was returned to prison.

THE PANTHEON

One way and another Mr. Taylor seems to have made a great deal of money out of the Opera; and at one time he hit upon a plan which looked at first as if it had only to be pursued with boldness to increase his income to an indefinite amount. This simple expedient consisted in raising the price of the subscribers' boxes. For the one hundred and eighty pound boxes he charged three hundred pounds, and so in proportion with all the others. A meeting of subscribers having been held, at which, although the expensive Catalani was engaged, it was decided that the proposed augmentation was not justified by the rate of the receipts and disbursements, and this decision having been communicated to Taylor, he replied, that if the subscribers resisted his just demands he would shut up their boxes. In consequence of this defiant conduct on the part of the manager, many of the subscribers withdrew from the theatre and prevailed upon Caldas, a Portuguese wine merchant, to re-open the Pantheon for the performance of concerts and all such music as could be executed without infringing the licence of the King's Theatre. The Pantheon speculation prospered at first, but the seceders from the King's Theatre missed their operas, and doubtless also their ballets. A sort of compromise was effected between them and Taylor, who persisted, however, in keeping up the price of his boxes; and the unfortunate Caldas, utterly deserted by those who had dragged him from his wine-cellars to expose him to the perils of musical speculation, became a bankrupt.

Taylor was now in his turn brought to account. Waters, his partner in the proprietorship of the King's Theatre, had been proceeding against him in Chancery, and it was ordered that the partnership should be dissolved and the house sold. To the great annoyance of the public, the first step taken in the affair was to close the theatre, – the chancellor, who is said to have had no ear for music, having refused to appoint a manager.

It was proposed by private friends that Taylor should cede his interest in the theatre to Waters; but it was difficult to bring them to any understanding on the subject, or even to arrange an interview between them. Waters prided himself on the decorum of his conduct, while Taylor appears to have aimed at quite a contrary reputation. All business transactions, prior to Taylor's arrest, had been rendered nearly impossible between them; because one would attend to no affairs on Sunday, while the other, with a just fear of writs before him, objected to show himself in London on any other day. The sight of Waters, moreover, is said to have rendered Taylor "passionate and scurrilous;" and while the negociations were being carried on, through intermediaries, between himself and his partner, he entered into a treaty with the lessee of the Pantheon, with the view of opening it in opposition to the King's Theatre.

Ultimately, the management of the theatre was confided, under certain restrictions, to Mr. Waters; but even now possession was not given up to him without a struggle.

WITHIN THE "RULES."

When Mr. Waters' people were refused admittance by Mr. Taylor's people, words led to blows. The adherents of the former partners, and actual enemies and rivals, fought valiantly on both sides, but luck had now turned against Taylor, and his party were defeated and ejected. That night, however, when the Watersites fancied themselves secure in their stronghold, the Taylorites attacked them; effected a breach in the stage door, stormed the passage, gained admittance to the stage, and finally drove their enemies out into the Haymarket. The unmusical chancellor, whose opinion of the Opera could scarcely have been improved by the lawless proceeding of those connected with it, was again appealed to; and Waters established himself in the theatre by virtue of an order from the court.

The series of battles at the King's Theatre terminated with the European war. Napoleon was at Elba, Mr. Taylor still in the Bench, when Mr. Waters opened the Opera, and, during the great season which followed the peace of 1814, gained seven thousand pounds.

Taylor appears to have ended his days in prison; profiting freely by the "rules," and when at head quarters enjoying the society of Sir John and Lady Ladd. The trio seem, on the whole, to have led a very agreeable prison life (and, though strictly forbidden to wander from the jail beyond their appointed tether, appear in many respects to have been remarkably free.) Taylor's great natural animal spirits increased with the wine he consumed; and occasionally his behaviour was such as would certainly have shocked Waters. On one occasion, his elation is said to have carried him so beyond bounds, that Lady Ladd found it expedient to empty the tea-kettle over him.

MR. EBERS' MANAGEMENT

In 1816 the Opera, by direction of the Chancellor, (it was a fortunate thing that this time he did not order it to be pulled down,) was again put up for sale, and purchased out and out by Waters for seven thousand one hundred and fifty pounds. As the now sole proprietor was unable to pay into court even the first instalment of the purchase money,78 he mortgaged the theatre, with a number of houses belonging to him, to Chambers the banker. Taylor, who had no longer any sort of connection with the Opera, at present amused himself by writing anonymous letters to Mr. Chambers, prophesying the ruin of Waters, and giving dismal but grotesque pictures of the manager's penniless and bailiff-persecuted position. Mr. Ebers, who was a great deal mixed up with operatic affairs before assuming the absolute direction of the Opera, also came in for his share of these epistles, which every one seems to have instantly recognised as the production of Taylor. "If Waters is with you at Brompton," he once wrote to Mr. Ebers, "for God's sake send him away instantly, for the bailiffs (alias bloodhounds) are out after him in all directions; and tell Chambers not to let him stay at Enfield, because that is a suspected place; and so is Lee's in York Street, Westminster, and Di Giovanni, in Smith Street, and Reed's in Flask Lane – both in Chelsea. It was reported he was seen in the lane near your house an evening or two ago, with his eye blacked, and in the great coat and hat of a Chelsea pensioner." At another time, Mr. Chambers was informed that Michael Kelly, the singer, was at an hotel at Brighton, on the point of death, and desirous while he yet lived to communicate something very important respecting Waters. The holder of Waters' mortgage took a post chaise and four and hurried in great alarm to Brighton, where he found Michael Kelly sitting in his balcony, with a pine apple and a bottle of claret before him.

Taylor's prophecies concerning Waters, after all, came true. His embarrassments increased year by year, and in 1820 an execution was put into the theatre at the suit of Chambers. Ten performances were yet due to the subscribers, when, on the evening of the 15th of August, bills were posted on the walls of the theatre, announcing that the Opera was closed. Mr. Waters did not join his former partner in the Bench, but retired to Calais.

Mr. Ebers's management commenced in 1821. He formed an excellent company, of which several singers, still under engagement to Mr. Waters, formed part, and which included among the singers, Madame Camporese, Madame Vestris, Madame Ronzi de Begnis; and M. M. Ambrogetti, Angrisani, Begrez, and Curioni. The chief dancers (as already mentioned in the previous chapter), were Noblet, Fanny Bias, and Albert. The season was a short one, it was considered successful, though the manager but lost money by it. The selection of operas was admirable, and consisted of Paer's Agnese, Rossini's Gazza Ladra, Tancredi and Turco in Italia, with Mozart's Clemenza di Tito, Don Giovanni, and Nozze di Figaro. The manager's losses were already seven thousand pounds. By way of encouraging him, Mr. Chambers increased his rent the following year from three thousand one hundred and eighty pounds to ten thousand. It is right to add, that in the meanwhile Mr. Chambers had bought up Waters's entire interest in the Opera for eighty thousand pounds. Altogether, by buying and selling the theatre, Waters had cleared no less than seventy-three thousand pounds. Not contented with this, he no sooner heard of the excellent terms on which Mr. Chambers had let the house, than he made an application (a fruitless one), to the ever-to-be-tormented Chancellor, to have the deed of sale declared invalid.

During Mr. Ebers's management, from the beginning of 1821 to the end of 1827, he lost money regularly every year; the smallest deficit in the budget of any one season being that of the last, when the manager thought himself fortunate to be minus only three thousand pounds (within a few sovereigns).