“Turcares was piqued at this discourse, and so was I: for he was perhaps the best lad in Banza. He waved his usual politeness, and gave Manilla to understand, that she cost him more than three opera girls, who would have amused him better, ‘Alas!’ cried he most mournfully, ‘why did I not stick to my little milliner? She loved me to folly. I made her so happy with a silk gown.’ Manilla, who did not relish comparisons, interrupted him in a tone, enough to make one tremble, and bade him begone in an instant. Turcares knew her, and chose rather to return peaceably downstairs, than to leap through the window.
“After that, Manilla borrowed of another Bramin, who came, said she, to administer comfort in her afflictions. The holy man succeeded the farmer of the revenue, and we reimbursed him his comforts in the same coin. She lost me several times more, and ’tis well known that play-debts are the only ones that are paid among the Beau Monde.
“If Manilla happens to play with good luck, she is the most regular woman in Congo. Excepting her play, she takes surprising care of her conduct: she is never heard to swear an oath: she entertains well: she pays her mercer and other tradesmen, is liberal to her servants, redeems her knickknacks sometimes, and caresses her lap dog and her husband: but thirty times a month she risks these happy dispositions and her money on an ace of spades. Such is the life she leads, and will lead: and God knows how many times yet I shall be pawn’d.”
Here the Toy ceased, and Mangogul went to take repose. He was awaken’d at five in the afternoon, and went to the opera, according to a promise made to the favorite.
XIII
Of the Opera at Banza
Sixth Trial of the Ring
Of all the public diversions of Banza, none supported itself but the opera. Utmiutsol and Utremifasolasiututut, two celebrated musicians, one of whom was growing old, and the other was but just new-fledged, alternately occupied the lyric scene. Each of these two original authors had his partisans. The ignorant and the grey-bearded dotards stood up for Utmiutsol; the smart young fellows and the Virtuosi were for Utremifasolasiututut: and the people of taste, as well young as old, held them both in high esteem. Utremifasolasiututut, said the latter, is excellent when he is good, but he sleeps at times; and, pray, to whom does not that happen? Utmiutsol holds up better, and is more uniform. He is full of beauties; yet he has not one, of which there are not examples to be found, and even more striking, in his rival; in whom there are strokes to be observed, which are entirely his own, and are not to be met with anywhere but in his works. Old Utmiutsol is simple, natural, smooth, sometimes too smooth, and that is his fault. Young Utremifasolasiututut is singular, brilliant, composed, learned, sometimes too learned: but perhaps that is his hearer’s fault. The one has but one opening, beautiful indeed, but repeated at the head of all his pieces. The other has made as many openings as pieces, and they all pass for masterpieces. Nature guided Utmiutsol in the ways of melody; study and experience discovered the sources of harmony to Utremifasolasiututut. Who ever knew how to declaim, and who will ever speak a part like the old man? Who will compose light catches, voluptuous airs, and symphonies in character like the young one? Utmiutsol is the only person who understood dialogue. Before Utremifasolasiututut nobody distinguished the delicate touches, which separate the tender from the voluptuous, the voluptuous from the passionate, the passionate from the lascivious. Nay some partisans of the latter pretend, that if Utmiutsol’s dialogue is superior to his, this is not so much owing to the inequality of their talents, as to the difference of the poets, whom they made use of. “Read, read,” cried they, “the scene of Dardanus, and you will be convinced, that if we give good words to Utremifasolasiututut, Utmiutsol’s charming scenes will be revived.” However that be, in my time, the whole town flock’d to the tragedies of the latter, and people stifled one another at the interludes of the former.
They were just then exhibiting in Banza an excellent piece of Utremifasolasiututut, which would never have been represented but in nightcaps, had not the favorite Sultana had the curiosity to see it. And besides, the periodical indisposition of Toys favored the jealousy of the fiddles, and made the principal actress flinch. She, who supplied her place, had not so good a voice, but as she made amends by her manner of acting, nothing hindered the Sultan and the favorite from honouring the piece with their presence.
Mirzoza was already come, Mangogul comes, the curtain is raised, they begin. Everything went on marvellously well: Miss Chevalier had effaced the memory of Miss le Maure, and they were at the fourth act, when the Sultan bethought himself, in the middle of a chorus, which he thought lasted too long, and had already cost the favorite two yawns, to point his ring on all the singers. Never was there seen on the stage so odd and comical a sight. Thirty women were struck dumb on a sudden. Their mouths were wide open, and they kept the same theatrical attitudes they held before. And at the same time their Toys made their throats sore with the violence of singing, this a “Pont-neuf,” that a “Vaudeville polisson,” another a very indecent parody, and all of them extravagances relative to their characters. On one hand was heard, oh vraiment ma
