Billington was so brilliant an exponent; for this was rather musical
drama than opera, and made strong demands on histrionic faculty.
As _Rosetta_, in "Love in a Village," a performance in which Mrs.
Billington was peculiarly charming, she drew such throngs that the price
of admission was raised for the nights on which it was offered. The
witticism of Jekyl, the great barrister, made the town laugh on one of
these occasions. Being present with a country friend in the pit, the
latter asked him, as Mrs. Billington appeared in the garden-scene, "Is
that Rosetta?" The singer's portly form, which had increased largely in
bulk during her Italian absence, made the answer peculiarly appropriate:
"No, sir, it is not Rosetta, it is Grand Cairo."

Life was running smoothly for Mrs. Billington; never had her popularity
reached so high a pitch; never had Fortune favored her with such lavish
returns for her professional abilities. One night she was horrified with
fear and disgust on returning home to see her brutal husband, Felican,
lolling on the sofa. He had been heart-broken at separation from his
beloved wife, and could endure it no longer. It was only left for her
to bribe him to depart with a large sum of money, which she fortunately
could afford. "I never," says Kelly, "saw a woman so much in awe of a
man as poor Mrs. Billington was of him whom she had married for love."
On the 3d of July, 1802, she sang with Mme. Mara at the farewell benefit
of that distinguished singer. Both rose to the utmost pitch of their
skill, and, in their attempts to surpass each other, the theatre rang
with thunders of applause. In our sketches of some of Mrs. Billington's
rivals and contemporaries, Mme. Mara demands precedence.


III.