statements made concerning him before his debut at the court theater.
According to these self-appointed connoisseurs, he was a bawler without
taste, without method, a maker of absurd trills, an unimpassioned actor
of little intelligence, and many other things besides. He knew, when he
appeared on the stage, how little disposed in his favor his audience
were, yet he showed not the slightest embarrassment; this, and his noble,
dignified mien, agreeably surprised those who expected from what they had
been told to behold an awkward man with an ungainly figure. A murmur of
approbation ran through the hall on his appearance; and electrified by
this welcome, he gained all hearts from the first act. His movements
were full of grace and dignity; he had a perfect knowledge of the scene,
modest gestures perfectly in harmony with the dialogue, and a countenance
on which all shades of passion were depicted with the most astonishing
accuracy; and all these rare and precious qualities combined to give to
the enchanting accents of this artist a charm of which it is impossible
to give an idea.

At each scene the interest he inspired became more marked, until in the
third act the emotion and delight of the spectator were carried almost to
frenzy. In this act, played almost solely by Crescentini, this admirable
singer communicated to the hearts of his audience all that is touching
and, pathetic in a love expressed by means of delicious melody, and by
all that grief and despair can find sublime in song.

The Emperor was enraptured, and sent Crescentini a considerable
compensation, accompanied by most flattering testimonials of the pleasure
he had felt in hearing him.

On this day, as always when they played together afterwards, Crescentini
was admirably supported by Madame Grassini, a woman of superior talent,