with great pomposity," All the right in the world, Madam, I have to look after my property; for know, Madam, the sixteenth part of the petticoat which you have destroyed belongs to me, and is mine, to all intents and purposes." When his wife died, he parted with his share, to the great joy of the other partners in the concern*.

The same year, 1784, the city of Vienna was honoured with the presence of His Royal Highness the Duke of York, then Bishop of Osnaburgh. On his entry into the city, he was received by the populace with acclamations, and welcomed by brilliant fêtes and rejoicings. The condescension and kindness, for which His Royal Highness ever has been distinguished, thus early gained him the

*The first Mrs. Fisher had two sisters; the one married, first, Mr. Warren, an actor, and secondly, Mr. Martindale, who kept one of the club houses in St. James's Street, who also left her a widow: upon her death, she bequeathed her share of Covent Garden Theatre to Francis Const, Esq. the worthy and excellent chairman of the Middlesex and Westminster Sessions. The other married Mr. White, one of the clerks of the House of Commons, in right of whose daughters, (to whom they are married,) Mr. Willett and Captain Forbes of the navy, now hold each similar shares of Covent Garden Theatre to that which the veracious Doctor Fisher possessed by a similar tenure at the time to which I have just alluded, and have of course, if they chose to exercise it, a similar right to the sixteenth part of every actress's petticoat at the present

moment.

hearts of all ranks of society: he was in his one and twentieth year, and allowed to be a model of manly beauty. I have seen him often walking in the streets of Vienna dressed in the Windsor uniform, with his hair platted behind, attended by one or two of his aids-du-camp, visiting the different shops, and conversing with the most amiable familiarity with the concourse of people that flocked around him. The Emperor paid him great and marked attention.

His Royal Highness's first visit to the theatre attracted a crowded and brilliant assemblage. The Emperor, accompanied by his brother Maximilian, the Archbishop of Cologne, was present. A new opera, composed by Stephen Storace, was produced on the occasion; Signora Storace and myself had the two principal parts in it. In the middle of the first act, Storace all at once lost her voice, and could not utter a sound during the whole of the performance; this naturally threw a damp over the audience as well as the performers. The loss of the first female singer, who was a great and deserved favourite, was to the composer, her brother, a severe blow. I never shall forget her despair and disappointment, but she was not then prepared for the extent of her misfortune, for she did not recover her voice sufficiently to appear on the stage for five months.

As a proof of the retentive memory of His Royal

Highness, the circumstances of which I speak are now one and forty years old; and yet, His Royal Highness recollected, and repeated them to a friend of mine very recently. To have lived so long, in his Royal remembrance, is to me high honour and gratification.

During the continuance of Storace's illness, three operas were produced, in which Signora Cortellini, Madame Bernasconi, and Signora Laschi performed. The last of these operas was composed by Signor Rigini, and written by the poet of the theatre, the Abbé da Ponte, by birth a Venetian. It was said, that originally he was a Jew, turned Christian,-dubbed himself an Abbé, and became a great dramatic writer. In his opera, there was a character of an amorous eccentric poet, which was allotted to me; at the time I was esteemed a good mimic, and particularly happy in imitating the walk, countenance, and attitudes of those whom I wished to resemble. My friend, the poet, had a remarkably aukward gait, a habit of throwing himself (as he thought) into a graceful attitude, by putting his stick behind his back, and leaning on it; he had also, a very peculiar, rather dandyish, way of dressing; for in sooth, the Abbé stood mighty well with himself, and had the character of a consummate coxcomb; he had also, a strong lisp and broad Venetian dialect.

The first night of the performance, he was seated in the boxes, more conspicuously than was absolutely necessary, considering he was the author of the piece to be performed. As usual, on the first night of a new opera, the Emperor was present, and a numerous auditory. When I made my entrée as the amorous poet, dressed exactly like the Abbé in the boxes, imitating his walk, leaning on my stick, and aping his gestures, and his lisp, there was a universal roar of laughter and applause; and after a buzz round the house, the eyes of the whole audience were turned to the place where he was seated. The Emperor enjoyed the joke, laughed heartily, and applauded frequently during the performance; the Abbé was not at all affronted, but took my imitation of him in good part, and ever after we were on the best terms. The opera was successful, had a run of many nights, and I established the reputation of a good mimic.

Storace had an opera put into rehearsal, the subject his own choice, Shakspeare's Comedy of Errors*. It was made operatical, and adapted for

* I often mentioned (after I came to England) to Mr. Sheridan, how much I thought introducing Storace's music into the Comedy of Errors would do for Drury Lane: he approved of it, and said he would give directions to have it done, but he never did. It is singular, that more than thirty

the Italian, by Da Ponte, with great ingenuity. He retained all the main incidents and characters of our immortal bard; it became the rage, and well it might, for the music of Storace was beyond description beautiful. I performed Antipholus of Ephesus, and a Signor Calvasi, Antipholus of Syracuse, and were both of the same height, and strove to render our persons as like each other as we could.

About the time of which I am now speaking, the celebrated poet, L' Abbate Casti, came from Italy to Vienna, on a visit to Prince Rosenburg. He was esteemed by the Literati, the severest

six years after I had suggested the idea, the proprietors of Covent Garden should bring the play forward as an opera; yet, had it been produced at Drury Lane at the time I mentioned it, my friend Prince Hoare would not have had in his excellent afterpiece, called "No Song no Supper," the beautiful sestetto, "Hope a distant joy disclosing," for that piece of music and the trio," Knocking at this time of day," were both in the Equivoci; or, Italian Comedy of Errors. The music used, where Antipholus seeks admittance into his house, and his wife calls the guard, was that fine chorus in the Pirates, "Hark the guard is coming," and was certainly one of the most effective pieces of music ever heard. Both the songs sung by me in the Pirates, at Drury Lane, I had sung at Vienna, in the same opera of the Equivoci: Storace certainly enriched his English pieces, but I lamented to see his beautiful Italian opera dismantled.