I saw Mozart’s Figaro announced at Drury-lane, and delighted myself with the idea of hearing once more the sweet tones of my fatherland:—what then was my astonishment at the unheard-of treatment which the master-work of the immortal composer has received at English hands! You will hardly believe me when I tell you that neither the Count, the Countess, nor Figaro sang; these parts were given to mere actors, and their principal songs, with some little alteration in the words, were sung by the other singers; to add to this, the gardener roared out some interpolated popular English songs, which suited Mozart’s music just as a pitch-plaster would suit the face of the Venus de’ Medici. The whole opera was moreover ‘arranged’ by a certain Mr. Bishop (a circumstance which I had seen noticed in the bill, but did not understand till now),—that is, adapted to English ears by means of the most tasteless and shocking alterations.
The English national music, the coarse heavy melodies of which can never be mistaken for an instant, has, to me at least, something singularly offensive; an expression of brutal feeling both in pain and pleasure, which smacks of ‘roast-beef, plum-pudding, and porter.’ You may imagine, therefore, what an agreeable effect these incorporations with the lovely and refined conceptions of Mozart must produce.
‘Je n’y pouvais tenir’—poor Mozart appeared to me like a martyr on the cross, and I suffered no less by sympathy.
This abominable practice is the more inexcusable, since here is really no want of meritorious singers, male and female; and, with better arrangement, very good performances might be given. It is true, even if the stage were in good order, a second Orpheus would still be required to tame English audiences.
Far better was the performance in Covent Garden, where Charles Kemble, one of the best English actors, gave an admirable representation of the part of Charles the Second. Kemble is a man of the best education, and has always lived in good society; he is therefore qualified to represent a king royally;—with the ‘aisance,’ that is proper to all exalted persons. He very skilfully gave an amiable colouring to the levity of Charles the Second; without ever, even in moments of the greatest ‘abandon,’ losing the type of that inborn conscious dignity, so difficult to imitate. The costume, too, was as if cut out of the frame of an old picture, down to the veriest trifle; and this was observed by all the other actors, for which Kemble, who is also manager, deserves great praise.
I must, however, confess that in the next piece, in which Frederick the Great plays the principal part, there was not the same intimate knowledge and perfect imitation of foreign costume; both the king and his suite seemed to have borrowed their wardrobe from that of a pantomime. Zieten presented himself in a high grenadier’s cap, and Seydlitz appeared in locks ‘a là Murat,’ and with as many orders as that royal actor used to wear; a profusion of which were by no means the fashion in Frederick’s day, nor were they then worn as mere appendages of the toilet.
December 2nd.
I often dine at Prince E——’s, who exhibits a perfect model to ‘diplomates’ how dignified ‘représentation’ may be combined with agreeable facile manners; and how a man may please every body if he understands the art of placing himself ‘à sa portée,’ yet without suffering his own dignity to be forgotten for an instant:—‘un vrai Seigneur,’—such as are every day becoming rarer. Never too did a foreigner succeed so perfectly in England; and yet, most assuredly, without the slightest concession to English arrogance. This implies infinite tact; the lighter, more vivacious character of a South German; and the most astute intellect concealed beneath the most unpretending ‘bonhommie;’ the whole backed and set off by a great name and a splendid fortune.
The other members of the diplomatic corps, with few exceptions, are left by him quite in the back-ground, and most of the plenipotentiaries here disappear completely in the crowd. Among the ambassadors there is, however, one of the female sex who plays a great part * * * But more of this another time. I entered upon the subject of Diplomates, only for the sake of repeating to you a very pretty ‘bon mot’ of one of them whom you know. I heard it to-day at dinner. Count H—— was ambassador at a German court renowned for its economy (‘pour ne pas dire mesquinerie,’) and on some solemn occasion received a snuff-box with the portrait of the sovereign; which, however, was set round with very small, paltry diamonds. Shortly afterwards, one of his colleagues asked him to show him his present. “Vous ne trouverez pas le portrait ressemblant,” said the Count, giving him the snuff-box,—“mais les diamants.”
I occasionally see, with great satisfaction, the venerable Elliot, who, together with the dry but very interesting Lord St. Helens, whom Ségur so often mentions in his Memoirs, belongs to the ‘Doyens’ of English diplomacy, and still dwells with extraordinary pleasure on the recollection of his residence at Dresden. He has several very charming daughters, and finds it difficult to live in a style befitting his rank, for his long services have not been rewarded with English liberality.[29]