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Updated: May 19, 2025
Chorley: "She may not have been beautiful, but she was better than beautiful, insomuch as a speaking Spanish human countenance is ten times more fascinating than many a faultless angel-face such as Guido could paint.
He was dubbed a "hippopotamus in trousers," and for six years before he died he could not see his toes, he was so fat. Sir Arthur Sullivan relates an anecdote which shows that Rossini was conscious of his grossness. Once in Paris Sullivan introduced Chorley to Rossini, when the Italian said, "Je vois, avec plaisir, que monsieur n'a pas de ventre." Chorley indeed was noticeably slender.
Well, it is perhaps more my fancy than anything else, and was only an impression, even there. Mr. Chorley will tell you of a play of his, which I hope will make its way, though I do wonder how people can bear to write for the theatres in the present state of things.
It, like the watch, was also of the fashion worn by ladies; and I could hear some characteristic remarks muttered around the table, such as, "That young blood's got a rich girl somewhere", "There's more where they come from," and the like! The ring was evidently one of much value, as Chorley, after an examination of it, proposed to stake four hundred dollars.
Park Benjamin, in a notice of "The Token" for 1836 published in "The New England Magazine," October, 1835, gave a single line to the author, speaking of him as "the most pleasing writer of fanciful prose, except Irving, in the country;" and in November of the same year, in a review of the same work, Chorley, the critic of the London "Athenaeum," commended his tales and gave extracts from them.
The deal proceeded, Chorley drawing the cards with that air of imperturbable sang-froid so characteristic of his class. "Ace wins," cried a voice, as two aces came forth together. "Pay you in cheques, sir?" asked the croupier. I assented, and a flat round piece of ivory, of a red colour, with the figure 5 in its centre, was placed upon my half-eagle. I permitted both to remain upon the ace.
It was, in fact, a "free lunch," or rather supper free to any guest who chose to partake of it. Such is the custom of an American gambling-house. The rich viands did not tempt either my companion or myself. We passed the table without halting, and walked directly up to the "bank." We reached the outer circle, and looked over the shoulders of the players. "Shade of Fortuna! Chorley and Hatcher!"
Ronconi's voice, according to Chorley, barely exceeded an octave; it was weak and habitually out of tune. This baritone was not gifted with vocal agility and he was monotonous in his use of ornament. Nevertheless this same Chorley admits that Ronconi afforded him more pleasure in the theatre than almost any other singer he ever heard!
"Come, gentlemen!" cried my partner, Chorley; "not exactly fair that no hints." "Bah!" ejaculated the dealer. "Mout show you my hand, for that matter. Thar ain't a trick in it." We won again! Our adversaries, getting still more nettled at our success, now proposed doubling the stakes. This was agreed to, and another game played.
Henry Chorley is going to be a happy man. All his life long he has been dying to have a play acted, and now he has one coming out at the Surrey Theatre, over Blackfriars Bridge. He lives much among fine people, and likes the notion of a Faubourg audience. Perhaps he is right. I am not at all afraid of the play, which is very beautiful, a blank-verse comedy full of truth and feeling.
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