“That is Sophie Arnould,” he remarked of one of them; “she is a delicious actress; there is none more exquisite upon the stage.”
“And is she the first singer in the opera?” asked Wolfgang, after having heard her grand air.
“Certainly,” replied the complaisant cicerone, “you may see that by the applause she calls forth. She plays better than she sings, I confess; her voice has not power enough for the place; but she makes amends for all that by her spirit in acting—by her gestures, and the expression of her eyes, which I defy you to resist. Our young gentlemen are enchanted with her wit; her conversation furnishes the most piquant sauce to their suppers. If in song she only equalled M’lle. Antier, a great actress who retired from the opera twenty years ago! M’lle. Antier was for twenty years the chief ornament of the first theatre in the world. The queen presented her, on her marriage, with a snuff-box of gold, containing the portrait of her majesty; M. and Mme. de Toulouse also made her beautiful presents. She had the honor of filling the first parts in the ballets danced before the king. M’lle. Arnould has not obtained the like favors; but it must be owned that the court is less liberal than formerly. Meanwhile, she is the idol of the public, and her reign promises to be of long duration.”
The youthful artist could not echo these praises. He shook his head and remained silent.
“Or do you like better M’lle. Chevalier, the actress now on the stage? Her fort, they say, is in the grand, the tragic; you need not say to her with Despreaux—
“To move my tears, your own eyes must be wet.”
“I defy you to remain cold while she is declaiming some great scene. But she has not the grace of Sophie Arnould, and there is something of hardness in her tones. Nevertheless, she has her partisans. One of our poets has written some verses to be put at the base of her portrait, to the effect that she bewitches by her voice the hearts that have stood proof against her face.”
Neither in this instance could young Mozart share the enthusiasm of his neighbor. He had no experience, but he was endowed with an intuitive and delicate apprehension in music, which taught him that with their great voices these artists of the opera were not great singers. He became restless with his discontent. The performance went on. The male singers, Pillot and Zelin, were below mediocrity.
“We should have M. Chasse in this part,” cried the cicerone; “he had a most imposing voice, and noble action; but alas! he retired six years ago! His place has not yet been filled.”
The only part of the representation that pleased little Wolfgang, was the dancing. Vestris was not there, but the celebrated Lany performed a pas de deux with her brother. This actress had also received the homage of poetry. The last ballet was admirably executed. It restored the good humor of the young critic.