THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES MUSIC LIBRARY O^fT* ^^^130NVS0 QUEENS OF SONG BEING MEMOIRS OF SOME OF THE MOST CELEBRATED FEMALE VOCALISTS ■WHO HAVE PERFORMED ON THE LTRIC STAGE FROM THE EARLIEST DAYS i 1 OF OPERA TO THE PRESENT TIME. ' TO WlilCU 18 ADDED A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF ALL THE OPERAS THAT HAVE BEEN PERFORMED IN EUROPE. By ELLEN CREATHORNE CLAYTON. lllitlj |)ovtraUe. NEW Y O R K : HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1 8C5. t» I CONTENTS. CHAPTEU TAQK I. Katherine Tofts and Margarita de L'Epine 15 / 11. Anastasia Robinson (Countess of Peterboeodgh) 26 *'°TIII. Lavinia Fenton (Duchess of Bolton) 35 IV. Early French Singers. — Marthe le Rochois — La Maupin 43 "V. Rival Queens — Francesca Cuzzoni and Faustina Bor- DONI 52 VI. Caterina Mingotti 63 VII. Caterina Gabrielli 71 VIII. Sophie Arnould 80 IX. Antoinette Cecile Clavel St. Huberty 91 X. Gertrude Elizabeth Mara 97 XI. Anna Maria Crouch 125 XII. Anna Selina Storage 138 XIII. Elizabeth Billington 153 XIV. Giuseppa Grassini 173 ^ XV. Angelica Catalani 183 XVI. Josephine Mainville Fodor 213 XVII. Laure Cintiiie Damoreau 221 XVIII. ViOLANTE Camporese 228 ' XIX. ROSAMUNDA PiSARONI 238 /' XX. Giuditta Pasta 246 XXI. Catharine Stephens 267 XXII. Mary Anne Paton 274 XXIII. WlLHELMINA SCHRODER DeVRIENT 283 / XXIV. Henrietta Sontag 296 XXV. Julie Dorus Gras 313 XXVI. Cornelie Falcon 323 / XXVII. Maria Felicita Malibran 330 SfXVIII. Giulia Grisi 363 XXIX. Clara Anastasia Novello 383 XXX. Pauline Viardot Garcia 393 IV CONTENTS. CHAPTEE PACB XXXI. Fannt Persiani 413 XXXII. Cathaeine Hayes 423 (_XXXIII. Marietta Alboni 43'J XXXIV. Angiolina Bosio 451 XXXV. Jenny Lind Goldschmidt 4G1 ^XXXVI. Sophie Crdvelli 483 A^XXVII. Marietta Piccolomini 493 XXXVIII. Louisa Ptne 502 XXXIX. Teresa Tietjens 507 Chronological List of Operas 515 Index 541 PORTRAITS. PAGE Mrs. Billington 152 Madame Pasta 247 Madame Sontag 297 Madame Garcia Malibran 331 Madame Giulia Grisi 362 Madame Clara Novello 382 Madame Viardot Garcia 399 Madame Marietta Albom 438 Madame Lind Goldsciimidt 4G0 Madame Marietta Piccolomini 492 • ^ & OPERA IN NEW YOkK. INTKODUCTION. The following work is addressed less to those who make the art and science of Music the subject of systematic study — though even to them it may perhaps prove acceptable — than to the increasing number of persons who regard mu- sic as an elegant accomplishment, cnteriup' largely into the enjoyments of refined and cultivated s- .y, and who are interested in the fame and fortunes of it lost favorite and fascinating interpreters. Love of an art creates love of the artist. We can not be moved, excited, transported by the poetry of Shakspeare, and yet take no interest in himself. We desire to know all about him that can be known, and eagerly receive every scrap of information that can be gathered as to the life and fortunes, the character, habits, manners, and domestic rela- tions of the man whose writings we so dearly cherish. Akin to the interest we take in the great dramatic poet is that which we take in the great dramatic musician. We feel for a Mozart as we do for a Shakspeare. And not less lively is our personal sympathy with the professors of that beautiful art which interprets and embellishes — which real- izes and brings before our senses — the grand and beautiful conceptions of the dramatic poet and composer. The biography of the actor has a great and peculiar at- traction of its own. The actor is pre-eminently " the ab- stract and brief chronicle of the time." The narrative of his career throws light not only on his own life and char- acter, but on the life and character of the society in which VIU INTRODUCTION. he moves, and the age to which he belongs. And this seems to be most especially the case with the female mem- bers of the theatrical profession, particularly if the lyrical stage is that on which they have flourished. A great act- ress stands more prominently in the world's eye, has a great- er influence on manners, and reflects more strongly the pre- vailing hues of society, than an actor can do ; and of the great actresses who have adorned the stage since its revival in modern Europe, the larger number have also been great singers. This consideration has induced the author to take, for the subjects of the following biographical sketches, a select number of the " Queens of Song" who have shed lustre on the musical stage of Italy, France, Germany, and En- gland. It was in Italy that Opera came into being ; from thence she traveled, first into France, next into England, and lastly into Germany, where, notwithstanding her present magni- tude, her existence is but of yesterday. Go back only to the days of Gliick, and we find that, though there was opera in Germany, there was no German opera. To him, and to his still greater successor, Mozart, the Germans are indebted for the very creation of their own musical drama. It is only in those four countries that a national opera can be said to exist. In each of them the musical stage has acquired distinctive peculiarities, but in all of them it re- tains the principal features which it has derived from Italy, the land of its birth. Composers and performers have been natives of other countries — Spain, Eussia, Sweden, or Den- mark ; but they have all been formed chiefly on the school of Italy, and, in some degree, on those of France and Ger- many. As to England, she is beginning to have a school ; but beyond our own shores English Opera has no influence. To write a series of memoirs of the great female opera singers would be almost equivalent to writing a history of INTRODUCTION. IX the Opera itself, and perhaps in the most pleasant form which such a history could assume. But a work of this kind, were it any thing more than a bare and dry outline, would necessarily grow to an impracticable size ; for such has been the European popularity of the most captivating branch of the drama, that the number of female singers, who have not only been the idols of the public in their own day, but have acquired lasting posthumous fame, is greater than that of all other eminent theatrical performers put to- gether. For one Barry, Clairon, Siddons, or O'Neill, there are twenty Maras, Pastas, or Malibrans. A very limited selection from their number was therefore necessary. But it has been thought that even such a selection, carefully made and arrano;ed, mioht embrace a continuous and co- herent picture of the progress of the Opera, as well as of the constantly changing aspects of social life in the coun- tries where the Opera has flourished. Every "Queen of Song" is the central figure in a group of all that is great, and noble, and gay — and too often, un- happily, dissolute — in the societj' in which she moves. Her story is often of touching and romantic interest, and her fate points an impressive moral lesson. Gifted with powers de- sisrned to deliQ;ht the world, and in most instances combined with personal attractions, that materially enhance the charms of vocal and histrionic efforts, the young debutante, emerg- ing from the severe labor of her musical studies, enters at once on the dazzlinsr but dangerous scene of her future tri- umphs, endued with sensibility of no ordinary kind, refined by the cultivation of her voice and ear, and often with the strong and wayward impulses of genius. ^ Her first success in a moment transforms the chrysalis into the butterfly, destined to flutter in the blaze of theat- rical splendors. Fascinating the public, and gratifying the intellectual lovers of song, while her beauty and powers re- main in their full perfection, the fair and accomplished A2 INTRODUCTION. young vocalist can not but captivate many hearts, and thus becomes surfeited by the flatteries of the spoiled children of fortune, and lured by the wiles of subtle and interested admirers. The intoxication of success following close upon the absorbing studies, and the doubts and fears that beset the debutante, must be a severe trial to the sensitive and ardent young creature, who, when acknowledged as " prima donna," finds the world at her feet, and is the cynosure of the great, the gifted, and the wealthy of society. As the interpreter of the ideas of genius, she partakes of the triumphs of the composer, and is rewarded not only by munificent payment, but with the incense of popular ap- plause and the homage of admirers, never appearing but to elicit fresh tokens of admiration. It is not surprising, therefore, that the temptations of such a career should sometimes prove too great for virtue or pru- dence to resist ; indeed, the wonder is that so many favor- ite singers have escaped the snares and pitfalls that sur- round their steps. The descent from the pinnacle of fame and fortune is often sudden and disastrous, and the perils of her who attains the giddy height of popularity are such as to need a cool head and a steadfast heart, and the con- trolling power of high principle. The author has chosen her heroines with a view to a two- fold source of interest. She has taken those whose genius and labors have stamped the deepest impress on the state of contemporary art, and some of those, likewise, who, though of secondary artistic name, have had eventful his- tories, or from whose fortunes, in their brilliant and most perilous career, an instructive moral may be gathered. How far she has succeeded it will remain for others to judge. She has been careful to draw her facts from the most trustworthy sources ; from the most eminent historians of music and musical biographers ; from contemporary me- INTEODUCTION. XI moirs and works on other subjects, in which the Opera and its celebrities are incidentally spoken of; and (in the latter portion of the work) from the information kindly furnished to her from several " Queens of Song," w^ho are the bright- est ornaments of the present musical stage. The dates have been (from about 1750) verified from the public journals of England, France, and Germany. It will be observed that, in regard to the heroines of past generations, she has, in describing their persons, manners, and the peculiar features of their vocal talents, freely availed herself of the language of contemporary criticism. Actors and singers are not like poets and painters ; they leave no works behind them from which we can form our own esti- mate of their character. We know nothing but what is told us by their contemporaries ; and the author has thought it better to choose those contemporaries carefully, and to quote their own lively and graphic descriptions (always ac- knowledging the source from which they are drawn) than to translate them, as it were, into what would necessarily have been feebler and less picturesque words of her own. She takes this opportunity of again tendering thanks to those friends in both London and Paris who have given her so much valuable assistance, and to whom she feels deeply indebted ; also of acknowledging the courtesy of those gen- tlemen to whom she has, from time to time, been obliged to apply for special information. LIST OF AUTHORITIES. The following are the principal Works from which the materials for the " Queens of Song" have been drawn: M. Clement et l'aebe Joseph de la Porte — Annales Dramatiques. Bachacmont — Memoires Secrets. Jonx Beenaed — Retrospection of the Stage. IIenei Beyle — Vie de Rossini. Castil Blaze — L'Acade'mie Impe'riale de Musique. Charles de EoiCne — Petits Memoires de I'Ope'ra. Dr. Burnet — General History of Music : Present State of Music in Ger- many, the Netherlands, etc. (1773): Present State of Music in France and Italy (1773): Account of the Musical Performances in Westmin- ster Abbey and the Pantheon. Thomas Busbt — General History of Music: Concert-room and Orchestra. H. F. Chorley — Music and Manners in France and Germany: Modern German Music, Recollections, and Criticism : Thirty Years' Musical Recollections. CnoRON ET Fay'olle — Dictionnaire historique des Musiciens. Crosse — Account of the Grand ^Musical Festival held in 1823 in York. Charles Dibdin — Complete History of the English Stage. Ebers — Seven Years of the King's Theatre. Escudier Freres — Etudes Biographiqucs sur les Chantcurs Contempo- rains. Fetis — Biographic dcs Musiciens. Galerie The'atrale. Grimm — Correspondence. Hawkins — General History of Music. Charles Hervey' — Theatres of Paris. George Hogarth — Memoirs of the Musical Drama : Musical History, Bi- ography, and Criticism. Arsene Houssaye — Galerie de Portraits. Michael Kelly — Reminiscences. Earl of Malmesbury — Diaries and Correspondence. Memoires de Marmontcl. XIV LIST OF AUTHORITIES. Mc'moires Secrets — 1777. Countess de Merlin — Memoirs of Madame Malibran. MiCHAUD — Biographie Universelle. Eugene de Mirecoukt — Les Contemporains. Lord Motojt EDGEcmiEE — Musical Eeminiscences of an old Amateur. Durey de Noinville — Histoire de I'Academie Koyale de Musique en France — 1757. J. Nathan — Memoirs of Madame Malibran de Beriot. Roger North — Memoirs of Musick. W. OxBERRY — Dramatic Biography and Histrionic Anecdotes. W. J. Parke — Musical Memoirs. Quarterly Musical Magazine and Review. Victor Schoelcher — Life of Handel. ScuDo — L'Anne'e musicale — Critique et litterature musicales — Musique Ancienne ct Moderne. Arthuk StMPSON — Memoirs of Madame Catalani. Veron — Me'moires d'un Bourgeois de Paris. Walpole — Private Correspondence. M. F. Young — Memoirs of Mrs. Crouch. Etc., etc., etc. QUEENS OF SONG. * CHAPTER I. KATHEEINE TOFTS AND MARGARITA DE l'ePIXE. We class these two ladies together, because they were the earliest "Queens of Song" who reigned in England; were con- temporaries, and much connected in their career on the musical staire. It Avas but a little befoi-e their time that actresses be- gan to make their appearance, female characters of every kind having been personated by men. Before their time English Opera gave no employment to great singers. Even the operas of Purcell were little more than plays intermixed with music, consisting of occasional choruses and songs, and in which the actors of the drama took no part. It was only when the Ital- ian opera came to be introduced in England, and to be imita- ted by English composers, that eminent dramatic singers be- gan to appear, and among these the first females were Mrs. Tofts and Madame de I'Epine. Of the family or early career of Katherine Tofts little is known. Her name is first mentioned, we believe, as singing English and Italian songs at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields in the year 1*703. Two years afterward she made her debut on the stage in the opera o^ Arslnoe, Queen of Ci/jyrus, composed, in imitation of the Italian style, by Thomas Clayton, a man who acquired groat but umnerited celebrity. He Avas a member of King William's band, and, albeit of extremely limited capabili- ties, entertained a very exalted opinion of his own talents. Go- ing to Italy, he there heard operas, and by dint of begging, borrowing, and stealing, possessed himself of a quantity of songs. With these he returned in triumph, and thoroughly convinced that nothing was easier than the composition of an opera, he produced the opera of Arsinoe, Quee?i of Oyprus^ 16 QUEENS OF SOXG. composed by Stanzani of Bologna. Travestying tliis, he strung together recitatives and melodies after a fashion of his own, which aiForded him infinite satisfaction. He was assisted by Sio-nor Nicolo Ilayra and Mr. Charles Dieupart, both tolerable musicians and flir superior to himself, but deficient in that im- pudence which was his leading characteristic. Haym translat- ed Motteux's words, and Dieupart superintended the instru- mentation. His opera ready, Clayton's next care was to find a theatre and singers. Drury Lane was disengaged ; and Mrs. Tofts was engaged as prima donna, together with Mrs. CrossfMrs. Lindsay, Mrs. Butler, Mrs. Turner, Ramondon, Hughes, Lev- eridge, and Cook, all good singers. A subscription list was opened for the pit and boxes, and Arsinoe was announced iu the Dally Courant as " a new opera, after the Italian manner, all sung, being set by Master Clayton, with dances and sing- ing before and after the opera by Siguora F. Margarita de I'Epine." A more captivating or talented prima donna could not have been found, even in Italy, than Katherine Tofts. Of the beau- ty of her " fine proportioned figure" Colley Cibber speaks with admiration. Her voice — a soprano — was clear and flexible; its natural qualities had been cultivated by study ; and, in ad- dition to an " exquisitely sweet, silver tone," she had a " pecul- iar, rapid swiftness of the throat;" pei'fections which, as Cibber justly remarks, are " not to be imitated by art or labor." Signora Francesca Margarita de I'Epine, a native of Tus- cany, was a woman of quite a different type to the fair En- glishwoman. Very ugly, singularly tall, swarthy, rough, and brusque in manner, she must have had an unusually fine voice to have been enabled to retain her hold of public favor. Thir- teen years previously, in 1691, she had come over with Giaco- mo Greber, a German, her teacher, and had made her first ap- pearance at the concerts at York Buildings. She appeared in the musical piece of the Hived Queens at Lincoln's Inn Fields, June 1st, 1092, when it was advertised as her last appearance in England ; but she was so successful that " she continued," Burney remarks, " to sing more last and positively last times during the month," and never quitted England at all. She be- came a special favorite with her audiences, being a fine singer and a scientific performer on the harpsichord ; but she did not KATHERIXE TOFTS — MAKGAEITA DE l'ePINE. 17 escape invidious criticism in her private character. She was perfectly respectable, yet her friendship for her master drew on her the insulting appellation of" GrelDer's Peg." Her appear- ance, one would have imagined, had sufficed both to drive away lovers and to disarm scandal ; yet she Avas surrounded by those who admired and those who ridiculed. She even contrived to enchant Daniel, Earl of Nottingham, who threw himself at her feet, and braved the laughter of the fashionable, political, and literary world. Rowe indited some verses on the subject, in imitation of an ode of Horace, "Ne sit ancilloe tibi amor pudo- ri." ^hey ran thus : " Did not base Greber's Peg inflame The sober Earl of Nottingham, Of sober sire descended, That, careless of iiis soul and fame, To plaj'honses he nightly came, And left church undefended ?" Lord Plalifax, too, wrote a stinging epigram on the subject of the " tawny Tuscan" and " tall Xottiugham," which is given by Hawkins. However, the earl was too much infatuated to be conscious of the arrows aimed at him ; and Margarita, from whose gay temper sarcasms glanced like bullets from the hide of a rhinoceros, went on her way smilingly and unconcernedly. Her sister, Maria Margherita Gallia, a pupil of Nicolo Haym's, probably allured by the success of Margarita, arrived in Lon- don in 1V03, when she made her debut at the theatre in Lin- coln's Lm Fields as a singer ; but she did not create any sen- sation, her star being completely extinguished in the blaze of Margarita's liime. Margarita Avas not offered any part in Clayton's opera, be- ing unable to pronounce English, but she agreed to sing Ital- ian airs before and after it ; indeed, slic was more fitted for the concert-room than the stage. There was not much love lost between Iter and Katherine Tofts. Mrs. Tofts used to sing at the " sxibscription music," like Margarita, singing Italian and English songs alternately. But there was no open rupture till the end of January, 1 704, Avhen Margarita appeared for the (irst time at Drury Lane, Avhere Mrs. Tofts was singing. The "Itahan lady," as' she was called, sang first on the 29th, and was received with such delight as to annoy her Anglican ri- val ; for, the next week, Mrs. Tofts's maid, being in the house, 2 18 QUEENS OF SONG. got up a (listui'bance while Margarita was singing. Ill-natured people hinted that Mrs. Tofts had sent persons into the theatre to occasion the uproar, with the view of disconcerting her ri- val ; an aspersion which, whether true or false, hurt the feel- ings of that lady to such an extent that she caused the follow- ing paragraph to be inserted in the Daily Courant of February 8th : " Ann Barwick having occasioned a disturbance at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, on Saturday night last, the 5th of February, and being taken into custody, Mrs. Tofts, in vindica- tion of her innocency, sent a letter to Mr. Rich, master of the said theatre, which is as followeth : ' Sir, — I was very much surprised when I was informed that Ann Barwick, who Avas lately my servant, had committed a rudeness last night at the playhouse, by throwing of oranges and hissing when Mrs. L'Epine, the Italian gentlewoman, sung. I hope no one will think it was with my privity, as I assure you it was not. I abhor such practices ; and I hope you will cause her to be prosecuted, that she may be punished as she deserves. I am, sir, your humble servant, Kathekine Tofts. Christopher Rich, Esq.' " This musical rivalry, a novelty in England, gave rise to many " squibs," and afforded subject-matter for laughter and gossip in coffee-houses, drawing-rooms, and supper-saloons. Hughes, that " agreeable poet," who wrote the Siege of Damascus^ and who alternately paid his devoirs to the Muses and to the au- thorities in the Ordnance Office, wrote of the two songstresses in the following strain : " Music has learned the discords of the state, And concerts jar with Whig and Tory hate. Here Somerset and Devonshire attend The British Tofts, and every note commend ; To native merit just, and pleased to see We've Koman hearts, from Roman bondage free. There famed L'Ejnne does equal slcill employ, While listening peers crowd to the ecstatic joy: Bedford to hear her song his dice forsakes, And Nottingham's enraptured when she shakes ; Lull'd statesmen melt away tlieir drowsy cares /" Of England's safety in Italian airs." ~ But to return to Arsinoe, Queen of Cypj'us. Clayton was perfectly well assured that he was about to work a complete reformation in English musical taste, and the highest expecta- KATHEEINE TOFTS — ilAKGAEITA DE l'ePIXE. 19 tions were indulged iu by his excited patrons. Nicolo Haym played the principal violoncello, to Avhich instrument several of the symphonies and leading accompaniments were assigned, and Charles Dieupart the first violin. It was on the 16th of January, 1705, that the piece was brought out; and a more vile performance, if the testimony of the most able musical crit- ics may be trusted, could not have been presented to any audi- ence. " The music, as well as the words, of this j^iece were utterly contemptible. It is a worthless production," ejacu- lated Dr. Burney. " The translation and music to which it was set are execrable," growls Hawkins. Notwithstanding its defects, " such is the charm of novelty," chorus the two great authorities, " that this miserable performance, deserving neither the name of a drama by its ^^oetry, nor of an opera by its mnsic," ran twenty-four nights triumphantly. "The En- glish," says Burney, "must have hungered and thirsted ex- tremely after dramatic music at this time to be attracted and amused by such trash." It was probably this unparalleled success which induced Gre- ber to produce, the next year, a musical entertainment com- posed by himself, called the Loves of Ergasto^hwt which the public chose to entitle " Greber's Pastoral." Margarita, of course, sang in this work, which was selected to inaugurate the opening night of the theatre in the Ilaymarket, a superb edifice just completed by Sir John Vanbrugh and Congreve. Both the entertainment and the house were dead failures ; for the " vanity of vast columns, gilded cornices, and immoderate- ly high roof" having been allowed to militate against the first requirement of an operatic theatre — the power of conveying sound — the music, instead of reaching the ears of the audience, was carried off to the ceiling, Avhence it reverberated in indis- tinct echoes. The Pastoral, despite its ill success, was follow- ed by another of the same kind, the Temple of Love, composed by Signor Saggioni, a Venetian, which pleased as little as its predecessor ; and the result was that the theatre failed the very first season. Betterton and his company, who had placed themselves without reserve under the banner of Vanbrugh and Congreve, then returned to Lincoln's Inn Fields; Sir John gave up the reins of his musical stud to Owen MacSwiney, a knowing Irishman, and the speculation might be fairly consid- ered to have come to grief. 20 QUEENS OF SONG. Margarita transferred her services readily to Owen MacSwi- ney — denominated by Dibdin " a sliuttle-cock" — wlio, in part- nership with Collier, was about to produce a second opera at Drury Lane, entitled Camilla ; the music of which, arranged by Haym, was chiefly borrowed from Marc Antonio Bonon- cini, brother of the celebrated Giovanni Bononcini, and the words were by Silvio Stampiglia. The Opera having now be- gun to be an established fact in London, several Italian singers had come over " on speculation ;" among others, Cavalier Val- entini Urbani, and a lady called mysteriously " The Baroness." Valentini, a scholar of Pistocchi, though he had a pure and ele- gant style, was by no means a great singer, for his voice was feeble and his execution moderate ; but he was a good actor, and popular in his manner. Of the Baroness but little is known ; even her name is an enigma not to be solved. Burney, while declaring himself "by no means qualified to be her biographer," says that she was a German who had learned to sing in Italy, and had performed in the opera at several German courts un- der her unusual appellation before her arrival in England. Some people said she was the widow of the ill-fated Stradella; but Hawkins shows that this was an improbability. On the 4th of March Camilla was produced. The absurdity of the manner in which it was performed provoked much laugh- ter, for one half was sung in Italian, the other half in English. Valentini, Margarita, and the Baroness were unable to sing in any language but their own ; while Katherine Tofts, Mrs. Lind- say, and the other English singers, even while professing to sing Italian sonss, did not like to venture too far out of their native tongue. Mrs. Tofts's beauty and Margarita's singing, howev- er, insured for the piece a splendid success. Mrs. Tofts more especially, by her grace, her fine voice, and her acting, achieved her greatest triumph as " Camilla." There is a pleasant allu- sion to it in the Spectator^ in the form of a letter from the act- or who personated the wild boar slain by the Amazonian he- roine, in Avhich he apologizes for having acted with a certain amount of tamcness. "As for the little resistance which I made," he says, " I hope it may be excused when it is consid- ered that the dart was thrown at me by so fair a hand. I must confess I had but just put on my brutality ; and Ca- milla's charms were such, that, beholding her erect mien, hear- ing her charming voice, and astonished with her graceful mo- KATHEKIXE TOFTS — MARGARITA DE l'ePIXE. 21 tion, I could not keep up to my assumed fierceness, but died like a man." The success of the performance may be judged from the fact that in the course of four years it was represent- ed sixty-four times. Camilla was so great a success, having met with a reception in England that it had never experienced abroad, that Addison, who seems to have been no judge of musical ability, and who thought that Clayton was an admirable composer, was induced to write the libretto of an opera. Adopting the romantic story of Fair Rosamond as a groundwork for his plot, he raised there- on a poetical superstructure. The public, admiring Addison, anticipated much from this opera. It was cast thus : Queen Eleanor Mrs. Tofts. Page (usually called the boy) Mr. Holcombe. Sir Trusty (keeper of the bower) Mr. Leveridge. Grideline (his wife) Mrs. Lindsay. Eosamond Signora Maria Gallia. King'Henry Mr. Hughes. First Guardian Angel Mr. Lawrence. Second Guardian Angel Miss Reading. But it was full of absurdities and anachronisms. As a poem it was graceful and lively ; as a drama, flat, tame, and unsuited for the stage. "The verses of Hosamo^id,''* observes Dr. Bur- ney, " are highly polished, and more lyrical, perhaps, than in any poem of the same kind in our language." The music was "below contempt." Hawkins dismisses it in a few words: " A criticism on this most wretched performance," he remarks, " is more than it deserves ; but, to account for the bad recep- tion it met with, it is necessary to mention that the music, preponderating against the elegance and humor of the poetry and the reputation of its author, bore it down the third night of representation." As to the songs, " they have neither air nor expression." There is one line which runs thus — " Oh, the pleasing, pleasing, pleasing, pleasing, pleasing anguish." A critic of the period, who was present at the performance, says that the opera was "a confused chaos of music," and that " its only merit Avas its shortness." The failure of his work gave Addison such a disgust for the opera, that ever after he did his best to ridicule and sneer it out of fashion, and never let an opportunity escape of flinging a jeer at the opera performances. 22 QUEENS OF SONG. Bosamond was succeeded by Thomyris^ Queen of Scythia, the music selected from the comiDOsitions of Alessandro Scar- latti and Bononcini ; the recitatives and accompaniments Avere committed to the care of Mr., afterward Dr. Pepusch, one of the greatest musical celebrities of the time. The libretto was written by Motteux, a man who, says Hawkins, kept an "India shop" in Leadenhall Street, which was much frequented by the old Duchess of Marlborough and other ladies of Queen Anne's day, Mrs. Tofts and Margarita both appeared in this opera ; the latter perfoi-med the part of the Queen. This opera was not so much admired as Camilla, but it was received M'ith fa- vor. Of the music Dr. Burney gives some account, and men- tions that the songs of Margarita in particular contained "sev- eral difficult passages of execution." Thomyris was succeeded by a little piece called Love's Triumph, which was produced under the direction of Valentini, for his own benefit. It was written by Cardinal Ottoboni (the English words befng adapt- ed by Motteux), and set to music by Carlo Cesarini Giovanni — surnamed Del Violone — and Francesco Gasparini. Marga- rita filled the part of Olinda. French dancing, then a novelty, was introduced as an experiment. As a speculation the piece failed ; so Valentini determined for the future to confine him- self to singing, and never more play the ungrateful role of manager. The last opera in which our rival Queens of Song appeared was Pyrrhus and Demetrius, the libretto of which had been written by Owen MacSwiney; the music, by Adriano Morselli, was arranged by Nicolo Haym. Margarita and Mrs. Tofts were the leading ladies in the piece, which was brought out on the 14th of December, 1708; the Baroness, Valentini, and the usual troupe, sustaining the minor parts. The opera was a great success, and continued for a long time to draw crowded houses, in spite of the absurdity of the motley language ; al- though the prices were raised, it was performed thirty times in the course of the season. Tlie lovely Katherine Tofts never graced the stage after- ward. In the spring, a terrible misfortune snatched her from her admirers, in the meridian of her bloom and beauty. Her brain imexpectedly gave way, and her friends were compelled to place her under restraint. It was conjectured that the un- paralleled success she had acquired in the part of Camilla had KATHEKINE TOFTS — MAKGAKITA DE l'ePINE. 23 turned her head. Every one regretted the blow -which took her from the ojjcralic world. Steele, however, speaks in a very unfeeling manner on the subject, in the Tatler, Xo. 20, for Thursday, May 26th, 1709: "This lady," he writes, "entered so thoroughly into the great characters she acted, that when she had finished her part, she could not think of retrenching her equipage, but would appear in her own lodging with the same magnificence that she did upon the stage. This great- ness of soul has reduced that unhappy princess to an involun- tary retirement, where she now passes her time amid the Avoods and forests, thinking on the crowns and sceptres she has lost, often humming over in her solitude " ' I was born of royal race, Yet must wander in disgrace.' But, for fear of being overheard, and her quality known, she usually sings it in Italian, " ' Nacqui al regno, nacqui al trono, E pur sono Sventurata.' " This verse was from one of her songs in Camilla, the first in the opera. For some time Mrs. Tofts laboi*ed under this disorder ; but at last, by the aid of judicious treatment, she was restored to the use of her reason. She did not return to the stage on her recovery, having accumulated a large sum of money by her professional talents ; and shortly after she married Mr. Joseph Smith, a diplomatic gentleman, a connoisseur of great taste, a collector of rare books and prints, and a patron of art. Her husband being appointed British consul at Venice, she Avent with him thither, Avhere he maintained great state and mag- nificence. But poor Katherine did not long retain the capa- bility of enjoying her position, for her malady again returning, she was obliged to live sequestered from the world in a re- mote part of her house, and content herself with ranging its garden, walking to and fro in her fancied royalty. The exact time of her death is not known ; but she was still living about the year 1735. Her husband, Mr. Smith, died about 1771, leaving a large collection of books, which was brought over to England, and sold by auction. After the close of IMrs.Tofts's career, Margarita retained the favor of the public, though several younger rivals appeared to 24 QUEENS OF SONG. contest it with her. Signora Elizabetta Pilotti Schiavonetti, Avho performed the part of Berenice in Hydaspes^ Signora Francesca Vaniui Boschi, Signora Rosa Piscina, and one or two others, attempted to snatch the laurel crown from her brow. She did not sing in Minaldo when Handel arrived in IVIO, nor did she sing much again in operatic performances. People were beginning to find that the hitherto inimitable Margarita was growing rococo ; and the manager, now Mr. Aaron Hill, who directed both theatres, did not take the trouble to disguise the harsh fact from her. She had a favorite par- rot, which, when at home, she would place at the open window of her lodging in Boswell Court, where it would keej) con- stantly repeating the first line of Handel's Julhis CcBsar^ "Non e vago e bello." The manager, having occasion to write to her, addressed his letter to " Mdlle. de I'Epine, at the sign of the Italian Parrot." Enraged at this afii-ont, she wrote back angrily, threatening to resign her engagement; to which the manager insolently replied, that, notwithstanding her merit, he could " very well spare her, if she would send her feathered pupil." She sang at the concerts in York Buildings and at Stationers' Hall, and once in the hall of the Middle Temple, in a musical performance at the Christmas Revels of that society. Swift mentions her in his "Journal to Stella" in terms most discreditable to him : '■'■Aur/ust G, 1711. "We have a music-meeting in our town (Windsor) to-night. I went to the rehearsal of it, and there was Margarita and her sister, and another drah^ and a parcel of fiddlers. I was weary, and would not go to the meeting, which I am sorry for, because I heard it was a great assem- bly." In the same coarse manner the dean frequently speaks of the " music-meetings" at Windsor in the course of this sea- son, endeavoring to evince his contempt by such phrases as, " In half an hour I was tired of their /we stuff P In 1712 Margarita appeared as Calypso, in Calypso and Te- lemackus, written by Mr. Hughes, and set by Mr. Galliard ; an opera that, from want of interest in the story, and from being filled with a series of grave moral sentiments — which, as Dr. Burney remarks, " however edifying in a sermon or in the closet, are seldom received with due reverence in a place of amusement" — was represented but five times. She also per- formed in a revival of Almahide, with Valeriano — temporary KATHERIXE TOFTS — MAKGAEITA DE l'ePINE. 25 successor to Nicolini — Valentini, La Pilotti, and Mrs. Barb" 2v ; in the pasticcio of Dorinda, and in Tlieseus^ in all of Avliich pieces she had elaborate and difficult airs to sing. In 1714 she performed with the new star, Anastasia Robinson, in the opera of Creso, during its nine representations ; and she appeared in JEJrnelincla, the part of Ricemero being taken by an Italian de- butante, Signora Diana Vico, who afterward subsided into a second-class singer. Having acquired a fortune of some ten thousand pounds, Margarita retired in 1V22. She married Dr. Pepusch about 1*723 or 1724, when the money which she brought him enabled him to pursue with ease those scientific studies which he ardent- ly loved, and also, Barney says, to " live in a stylo of elegance which, till his marriage, he had been a stranger to." Marga- rita's mother, a woman as remarkably short as Margarita was tall, resided with them. They were not a very sentimental couple, but lived together in harmony. He used to call her Hecate, in allusion to her ugliness ; and she would answer to the title with as much alacrity as if it had been Helen. They had one child, a boy, in whose education the doctor labored assiduously, in order to fit him for his own profession ; but this child died in 1739, before reaching the age of thirteen. They took a house in Fetter Lane in 1730, and in 1737, the doctor being chosen organist of the Charter House, they retired to that venerable foundation. Margarita's favorite occupation now Avas in trying to master the difficult pieces in Queen Eliz- abeth's Virginal Book, which she found in her husband's libra- ry, and to such perfection did she arrive in playing them, that " great was the resort of persons to hear her." Margarita died in 1740, the year after the death of her boy, leaving the worthy doctor to mourn her loss for twelve vears. 26 QUEENS OF SONG. CHAPTER II. ANASTASIA EOBINSOX (cOUNTESS OF PETEKBOEOUGh). One of the numerous class of moclei'ately talented persons wlio, during the reign of the " merry monarch," made a re- spectable living by portrait painting, was a gentleman named Robinson. Being of good family, agreeable in his manners, and having a tolerable reputation, he was popular, and there- fore was enabled to live in very good style. During his stu- dent days he had traveled to Rome, and while acquiring a mastery of the Italian language and his legitimate art, attained an unusual degree of skill as a musical amateur. On his re- turn to England he married a woman of some fortune, by whom he had two daughters, Anastasia and Margaret. These girls were still infants when their mother died ; and deeming it nec- essary to give them some maternal guidance, Mr. Robinson married a young Roman Catholic lady of the name of Lane, by whom he had a son and a third daughter. Anxious to render his daughters capable of occupying dis- tinguished places in society, Mr. Robinson gave them as finish- ed an education as his means could command. Observing that Anastasia had an ear for melody, and a voice which promised much, he j)laced her under the care of the eminent Dr. Crofts ; and fancying that Peggy inclined to painting, he resolved to make her a miniature painter, rather as an accomplishment than a profession. He also imparted to them the knowledge which he had gained of Italian, so that Anastasia was able to read with facility the best Italian poets, and to converse in that tongue with ease. An unexpected affliction suddenly blighted all the hopes and prospects of the amiable portrait painter. He was seized with a disorder in his eyes, which terminated in tlie total loss of siglit. A serious debate was held as to what should be done in this shipwreck of the fimily ; and as his wife had some lit- tle property, it was decided to devote a part of it to perfecting Anastasia's musical talents, with the view of fitting her for a ANASTASIA EOBINSOX. 27 public singer. Anastasia, wlio was a good girl, diligently ap- plied herself to tlie study of xuusio; and in order that her taste in singing might approach nearer to that of the Italian vocal- ists, she received lessons from Pietro Giuseppe Sandoni, at that time a fashionable singing-master residing in London, and like- wise from the " Baroness." Her general education had been superintended with scrupulous care, and she was full of excel- lent qualities, being naturally of an amiable disposition, prudent and virtuous, gentle ttnd unassuming, cheerful and sensible. Peggy was not so easily managed. She did not like paint- ing, while she was passionately devoted to its sister art, music ; and slighting the studies which she was enjoined to pursue, she declared she would not learn any thing except music. But it is not always desirable to have two singers in a family, for it is sometimes difficult enough to find engagements for one. Peggy, however, would have her way, and Mr. Robinson, yield- ing reluctantly to her wishes, placed her under the care of Bononcini, and afterward sent her to Paris, where, under the tuition of Rameau, she attained a high degree of proficiency. Two very serious imj^ediments existed to her hoj^e of succeed- ing as a public singer — she was exceedingly small and unusu- ally shy. Ultimately she married a military officer. Colonel Bowles, and her history abruptly closes with her wedding. Anastasia, with natural talents much inferior to her sister, had courage and perseverance, and, though modest, was not a victim to mauvaise honte. She continued to study ; and when pronounced sufficiently finished to make her debut, appeared at the concerts at York Buildings, Avhere, in addition to sing- ing, she accompanied herself on the harpsichord. Her success was as gi^ba^a:5~the■Tnost sanguiifenlight havelioped for. 3Iild and pleasing in her manners, interesting-looking, though by no means what might be termed " a beauty," she became at once a favorite. Of middle stature, a countenance with great sweet- ness of expression and large blue eyes, an unaft'ected and grace- ful air, her " appearance bespoke for her that favor which she afterward proved she merited by her musical skill." Her voice was a fine soprano at first, but it deepened gradually into a contralto, and was of extensive compass; but she want- ed Peggy's exquisitely delicate ear and discriminating taste to render her a perfect singer. Her success led to her immediately obtaining engagements 28 QUEENS OF SONG. to siDg at various places. Finding that she became such a pet with the musical i)ublic, and cncoui-aged by the patronage of some ladies of high rank, her father took a house in Golden Square, where he established weekly concerts and assemblies in the manner of conversaziones. These reunions were fre- quented by a numerous coterie of persons of refined taste and musical predilections, and it speedily grew to be the fashion to visit Mr. Robinson's rooms. Anastasia's modest, unassum- ing manner and equable temper obtained* for her not only pub- lic favor, but the love and admiration of many persons of high birth. The Duchess of Portland honored her with a lasting friendship, and spoke subsequently of her as having been "per- fectly well-bred and admirably accomplished." Urged by her friends, Anastasia consented to accept an en- gagement to appear at the Opera House in 1714. The Opera was, though apparently in a flourishing condition, in reality ffoinir to ruin, and for some time it had been closed, the ex- penses having been found greatly to exceed the profits. The leaders of the fashionable w^orld, however, had exerted them- selves to re-establish it, and a sum of £30,000 being subscribed, of which amount the king contributed £1000, a committee, con- sisting of the first noblemen in the kingdom, was ajspointed, under the name of the Royal Academy of Music. In order to resuscitate the opera in England, they engaged the three most eminent musicians then known, Bononcini, Ariosto Attilio, and George Feedekick Handel. The last ofl:ered to go in quest of a comj^any, and at Dresden he engaged Senesiuo, Beren- stadt, Boschi, and Margherita Dm-astanti. Senesino (his real name was Francesco Bernardo), a fine singer, with a clear, powerful, equal, and fluent voice, and perfect intonation, was the leading vocalist of the day. In style he so nearly resem- bled Nicolini that Gibber avers a blind man could not have known the difference. In aspect and deportment he is de- scribed as having been like one of the heroes of old, and his carriage was noble and majestic. Berenstadt's distinguishing peculiarity consisted in being "huge and unwieldy." Boschi, the basso, was chiefly remarkable for a voice of immense vol- ume, and a vigorous style of acting, which elicited the sarcastic line in " Harlequin Horace, or, the Art of Modern Poetry," "And, Boschi-like, be always in a rage." The writer of that brochure says, in a note, that Boschi was a ANASTASIA EOBIXSON. 29 " useful performer, for several years, in the Italian Opera ; for if any of the audience chanced unhappily to be lulled to sleep by these soothing entertaiments, he never failed of rousing them up again, and by the fury both of his voice and action made it manifest that, though only a tailor by profession, he "vvas nine times more a man than any of his fellow-warblers." His wife, Francesca Vanini Boschi, was engaged at the same time. She was then considerably past her prime, but possessed of good abilities. Margherita Durastanti, a large, coarse, masculine-looking woman, was a soprano, distinguished not only by her musical talent, b ut by the high, respectability .of her charactei"; These qualities obtainetTTor her favor in the highest quarters, of which we find afterward a very convincing proof in the Even- ing Post of the Vth of Mai-ch, 1721, where Ave are informed that "last Thursday his majesty was pleased to stand godfather, and the princess and Lady Bruce godmothers, to a daughter of Mrs. Durastanti, chief singer in the Opera House; the Mar- quis Visconti for the king, and Lady Lichfield for the princess." She made her first appearance in the opera of Hadajnisto, with Senesino; and then apjieared in Ar/n'ppina, a j^iece which ex- cited such extravagant admiration that the most disgraceful scenes occurred through people trying to force their Avay into the house. " Li so splendid and fashionable an assembly of ladies," observes the anonymous author of a Z,ife of ITcoidel, " to the excellence of their taste we must impute it if there was no shadow of form or ceremony ; scarcely, indeed, any aj)- pearance of order or regularity, politeness or decency. Many who had forced their way into the house with an impetuosity but ill suited to their rank or sex, actually fainted through the excessive heat and closeness of it ; several gentlemen were turned back who had oftered forty shillings for a seat in the ■gallery, after having despaired of getting any in the pit or boxes." As a coadjutor of Margherita Durastanti, but not as a rival — both beincc m\\d and amiable women — Mistress Robinson made her appearance in the Opera House. Scarlatti's opera of JVarcissus was selected for her debut, when she achieved such a success as Echo that an engagement was ratified, with a salary of £1000, and such emoluments as might arise from benefits and presents. From this time she appeared in almost 30 QUEENS OF SONG. every opera tliat Avas newly brought forward : Mutius Scmvo- la, Crisjms, Griselda, Otho, Floridante, Flavins, Julius -Caesar, Pharnaces, Coriolanus^Ves^msiaii, and also in revivals. On the 23d of May, 1V14, was produced Handel's opera oi Amadigi, or Amadis of Gaid; in it there were but four characters, which were filled by Nicolini, Diana Vico, Elizabetta Pilotti Schiavonetti, and Anastasia Robinson, The music given to Nicolini drew out all his powers, both as a singer and actor, and " Mrs. Anastasia Robinson," says Burney, " never had so good a part assigned to her." In the mean time, her amiability, talent, and agreeable ap- pearance gained for the young vocalist tender regards. Among the gentlemen who frequented the house in Golden Square Avas a certain General H , a man of elegant manners, wealthy, and insinuating, who managed to impress the fair singer with the idea that he was honorably paying his addresses to her, with the view of making her his wife. Liking him, and hav- ing the sanction of her father and step-mother, Anastasia did not repulse his advances, never dreaming for an instant that his intentions were any thing but those Avhich he professed. What was her amazement and indignation Avhen, one day, he made a declaration so insulting that no alternative was left her but to dismiss him Avith ignominy from her j^resence, and try to drive him from her thoughts ; " though," said the venerable Mrs. Delauy, years afterAvard, " she Avas very much prepos- sessed in his favor." Another individual Avho more than ordinarily admired her was tbe Earl of Peterborough, an eccentric nobleman, eminent alike for his military adventures and his love of art. He paid the most devoted attention to her, and at length oifered to marry Ler on condition of her keeping the union a profound secret, his pride revolting at the idea of its becoming known that he had made an opera-singer his countess. To this she agreed, and they Avere married. She remained on the stage for some time ; but at last tAvo things hastened her retirement — the arrival of a brilliant star, the celebrated Cuzzoni, reduc- ing her to second and third rate parts, and a gross insult which she received from Senesino one night, during the public re- hearsal of an opera, in 1'724, The earl, Avhile obstinately re- fusing to acknoAA'ledge her legal claim on his protection, instant- ly stepped forward as her champion, dragged the offender be- ANASTASIA ROBINSO^f. 31 hind the scenes, and there summarily gave him such a caning that the unhappy dehnqueut fell on his knees and howled for mercy. Lady M. W. Montagu, in a letter to the Countess of Mar, thus notices the affair — in a most imwomanly spirit, it must be confessed. After mentioninsc some other choice morceaic of scandal, she goes on to say : " The second heroine (Mrs. Rob- inson) has engaged half the town in arms, from the nicety of her virtue, which was not able to bear too near approach of Senesino in the opera, and her condescension in her accept- ance of Lord Peterborough for a champion, who has signalized both his love and courage upon this occasion in as many in- stances as ever Don Quixote did for Dulcinea. Poor Sene- sino, Hke a vanquished giant, was forced to confess ujdou his knees that Anastasia was a nonpareil of virtue and beauty. Lord Stanhope (the celebrated Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield), as dwarf to the said giant, joked on his side, and was challenged for his pains," though the hostile meeting resulted very harmlessly. Anastasia quitted the stage on the 13th of June, at the close of the season. She publicly accepted a hundred pounds a month from her husband, and was to be seen constantly driv- ing about in his berlin, his lordship thus allowing her to rest under a stigma which could have been removed by two words from his lips. The eclipse of the English singer irritated certain critics, who disliked foreign songstresses. Carey, in reference to Cuz- zoni, says indignantly, "With better voice and fifty times her skill, Poor Robinson is always treated ill ; But such is the good nature of the town, 'Tis now the mode to cry the Enghsh down." On the 30th of October, 1*733, Handel opened the Haymar- ket Theatre with an entirely new Italian company, consisting of Scalzi, the two sisters Negri, Carestini, and Signora Duras- tanti, the last of whom reappeared after an absence often years. The signora was very kindly received, but after this season we learn no more of her. Upon the death of Anastasia Robinson's father, Lord Peter- borough took a house near Fulham, in the neighborhood of his own villa at Parson's Green, where he settled Anastasia and 32 QUEENS OF SONG. lier step-motlier. Soon after, they removed to liis villa ; but liis " haughty spirit" still ruling paramount, he was resolved never to acknowledge a marriage which he considered to the last dco-ree derogatory to his dignity. Anastasia's half-brother, Mr. Lane, came to reside in the family in the character of a Roman Catholic priest, Auastasia belonging to the Church of Rome. Although Auastasia retained her maiden name, so convinced were her numerous friends of her good principles that many ladies frequented her house, persuaded that she was the lecral mistress of the mansion over which she presided. She was in the habit of holding a kind of musical academy, m which Bononciui, Martini, Tosi, Greene, and other musical ce- lebrities of the day used to assist. The earl, too, would give frequent dinner-parties, when he afforded his friends the op- portunity of hearing some of the finest music, and would en- tertain them with exciting accounts of his adventures during his residence abroad, particularly while he commanded in Spain. In that country, being often, during a journey, in danger of perishing for want of food, and, Avhen he could get it, being frequently obliged to dress it himself, he had become a first- rate cook ; and " such was the force of habit," says Hawkins, "that, till disabled by age, his dinner was constantly of his own dressino-. Those who have dined with him at Parson's Green say that he had a dress for the purpose, like that of a tavern cook, and that he used to retire from his party an hour before dinner-time, and, having dispatched his culinary affairs, would return properly dressed, and take his place among them," to delight them by his varied powers of conversation and the display of his finished taste in art. It must have been somewhat of a trial, even to one of Anas- tasia's amiable, quiet disposition, to be obliged to endure the life she led; for, independently of the consciousness of the mis- erable position she was placed in. Lord Peterborough was a most uncongenial companion for her. Eccentric and arrogant, his vagaries kept her in a constant flutter ; and it was only by the exercise of excellent sense and fortitude of mind that she was supported through "many severe trials in her conjugal state." At length .an incident occurred which partially shook the wall of pride with which her lordly husband surrounded himself. Unexpectedly, in 1735, he was seized with a terrible nt of illness while away from her ; then, missing the tender ANASTASIA EOBINSON. 33 care of his wife, lie besought her to come and nurse him at Mount Bevis, near Southampton. Moved by his urgent en- treaties, she agreed on one condition, that of being allowed to wear her wedding-ring, though denied the privilege of taking his name. At first he would not comply with this reasonable request, until, finding her inexorable, he consented ; so she went. But the health of the earl gradually grew worse, and in attending upon him the gentle Anastasia nearly lost her life. At last the physicians advised change of climate for him, and he asked her to accompany him to Lisbon. This she positive- ly refused to do unless he declared their marriage. Finding that all his pleadings were useless, and that Anas- tasia's resolution was final, the earl, rather than be deprived of her society, gave way. "Without informing her of his inten- tions, he made an appointment for her and all his relations and friends to meet him at "the apartment over the gateway of St. James's Palace," belonging to Mr. Pointz, who was married to his lordship's niece, and who was at that time preceptor to Prince William, afterward Duke of Cumberland. When they were all assembled, to their astonishment he broke forth into an eloquent oration, enumerating all the virtues and perfections of Mrs. Anastasia Robinson, and the rectitude of her conduct during his long acquaintance with her; he acknowledged his great obligations and sincere attachment to her, declaring that he was determined to do her that justice now which he ought to have done long ago : this was to present her to all his fam- ily as his wife. He spoke with such energy, and with so much feeling, that Anastasia, being altogether unprepared for such a scene, " fainted away in the midst of the comjaany," overcome by emotion. Lord Peterborough did not live to reach Lisbon, for he died on the voyage. After his death, Anastasia, returning to En- gland, lived chiefly at Mount Bevis, being seldom prevailed on to leave her self-constituted hermitage save by the Duchess of Portland, her early friend, who was always glad to have her at Bulstrode, and, when unable to coax her to come, would visit her at her house. The countess found some papers belonging to the earl after his death, which she burnt, having too much regard for his memory to give them to the world. Their con- tents may be judged of from the fact that in them he declared he had committed " three capital crimes" before he was twen- 3 34 QUEENS OF SONG. ty! By tbis act she offended many persons, "curious inquir- ers for anecdotes of so vemarkable a character as that of the Earl of Peterborough," who would have been rejoiced to seize on such morceaux as would have been revealed in his confes- sions. Anastasia survived her lord fifteen years, dying in 1750, re- spected and regretted, and leaving a character for integrity and goodness seldom enjoyed by even the highest celebrities. LAYINIA FENTON (dUCHESS OF BOLTOX). 35 CHAPTER HI. LAviNiA FE]srTO>r (duchess of bolton). Amoxg the fashionable coffee-houses frequented by the beaux, wits, and pretty fellows of Queen Anne's days, was one kept by an honest man of the name of Fenton, He had, about 1710 or 1711, married a sprightly dame who resided in the then not imgenteel neighborhood of Drury Lane, and who — as she failed not to impress on those with whom she was ac- quainted — was the widow of a certain gay naval officer, Lieu- tenant Beswick. Mrs. Fenton had a little girl, Lavinia, born in 1708, on whom she bestowed the surname of Fenton when she married the coffee-house keeper. Lavinia was an unusually lively and pret- ty child, and displayed a taste for singing so early that she could warble before she could speak. As she grew into child- hood, she was the pet and plaything of the frequenters of her step-fither's establishment, who used to take a special jjleasure in teaching her the fashionable airs just as they themselves had learned them. When she was about seven or eight years of age, her wit began to rival her vocal talent and her beauty, and many a laugh was elicited by her sallies. It was about this time that " a comedian belonging to the Old House," who was in the habit of going to Fenton's, took a fancy to her. Seat- ing her on his knee, he would make her sing the catches and airs which she acquired from the " humming beaux," and he took particular pains to teach her various songs, more esiDccial- ly English ballads. The little girl daily improved, till at last her mother thought it would be advisable to send her to a boarding-school to fin- ish her education. She was therefore packed off to a school for young ladies, where she remained till she was about thir- teen. When she returned home, her voice and taste had so much developed by this time that her mother and step-father s;ngaged some of the best masters in the English ballad style 36 QUEENS OF SONG. to instruct her. She displayed a decided talent for acting, and an invincible inclination for the stage ; in consequence of which, she succeeded' in- obtaining an engagement at the Hay- market in 1726, when she was eighteen, making her debut as Monimia, in the Orphan. Her performance was so excellent that she was immediately regarded as a very promising young actress. She was possessed of a fine, melodious voice, a figure which, if not precisely beautiful, was well-formed and elegant, and a lively manner. Though as yet but obscure, her beauty attracted numerous young gentlemen and noblemen, and one young lord was so fascinated by her charms that he magnanimously oflered to re- linquish for her sake the pleasures of the town, and retire with her to the solitude of his villa at Richmond, in Yorkshire, on any terms which she might propose short of marriage. This insulting ofiier was promptly declined, and the circumstance becoming public, added to her reputation. Shortly after, she appeared in the chai-acter of Cherry, in the Beaux Stratagem, which she looked so admirably, and played Avith such archness and ahandon, that she attracted the notice of Rich, the stingy manager of the rival theatre, who lured her from the Haymarket by the liberal salary of fifteen shillings a week. About this time. Swift one day gossiping with Gay, who was then smarting under the insult of being ofiered the j^lace of gentleman usher to the youthful Princess Louisa, and look- ing about for something to do instead of hunting for court fa- vors, his hojDes of advancement by court patronage being gone, the dean remarked to him, "What an odd, pretty sort of thing a Newgate Pastoral might make." The idea appeared to Gay worthy of reflection, but after consideration he thought it Avould be better to write a comedy on the same plan. This improvement on the original suggestion he mentioned to Swift, who " did not much like the project." Gay carried it out, however, and, as he worked, he showed it to Swift and Pope, who, while strongly counseling him not to j^ersevere, occasion- ally gave him a word of advice. Having, like Goldsmith, a taste for music, and playing Avith tolerable skill on the flute. Gay was enabled to adapt some of the airs in his piece to mu- sic, and when it was finished, he showed it once more to Pope and Swift, under the title of The Beggae's Opera. Both LAVrSlA FENTON (dUCUESS OF BOLTOn). 37 critics united iii deciding tliat " it would not succeed ;" but, nothing discouraged, he offered it to Congreve, the lessee of Drury Lane, who, on reading it over, declined to risk bringing it out, pronouncing an opinion that "it would either take great- ly or be d — d confoundedly." Gay, whose confidence in the ultimate success of his piece was not to be damped, at once took TJie, Beggar's Opera to Congreve's rival. Rich, who unhesitatingly accepted it, and put it in rehearsal without delay. The part of Polly Peachum, the heroine, was given to Lavinia Fenton, and Lucy Lockit was assigned to Mrs. Egleton, the wife of a young actor com- monly called "Baron Egleton." Peachum was to be per- formed by Hyppesley, " a comedian of lively humor and droll pleasantry ;" Lockit, by John Hall, Avho had been originally a dancing-master ; and Mat of the Mint, by Mr. Spiller. The part of Macheath was given to the great Mr. Quin, who began to study it with scarcely disguised ill-humor and dissatisfac- tion ; for, although he could sing well enough to get through a convivial song in company — at that time almost an indispens- able qualification required from every actor — yet he was quite , conscious that his vocal abilities were far from reaching the standard which he felt requisite. It happened that among the performers at the theatre was- a young comedian, named Tom Walker, considered to be "rather rising" in the mediocre parts of his line,« Poets sang her praises ; painters eagerly desired to transfer her exquisite lineaments to canvas. All this flattery intoxi- cated her. She wished to be classed with Ninon, Lais, and SOPHIE AENOULD. 85 Aspasia, and did not disguise the delight she felt at being im- mortalized in the verses of Dorat, Bernard, Rbulieres, Mar- montel, and Favart. She was very good-natured, yet some- times almost spiteful if an occasion for a jest presented itself. Seeing Bernard one day buried in reflection, " What are you thinking of?" she playfully asked. " I was talking to myself," replied he. "Take care," she said, with a warning look, "you gossip with a flatterer." x\nother day she met a doctor of her acquaintance with a gun under his arm, on his way to see a patient. " Ah ! doctor," she said, " you are afraid of your or- dinary resources failing." Her repartees were in every mouth from Paris to Versailles ; though it is true that many of the piquant jests of the Demoiselles Carton, Clairon, and others were often attributed to her, and collections of her smart say- ings were published. The Comte de Lauraguais remained always passionately at- tached to her, but he wearied his beloved Sophie by his furious outbursts of jealousy. She took no pains to avoid giving him occasion for his fits of passion, yet that did not make her feel them acutely, and he, in turn, annoyed her by his gallantries. He fell in love with Mdlle. Robbe, one of the members .of the operatic corps, and Sophie resolved to give him a quiet hint that she knew and disapproved of his passion for this pretty fair one. One day she contrived that he should discover her tete-drtete with a Knight of Malta, when he broke into a storm of reproaches. "You are unjust," retorted Sophie. "This gentleman is only fulfilling his vow as Knight of Malta in making Avar upon an infidel {injidele).''^ Still, she loved him tenderly, and for four years remained faithful to him ; till at last, tired of his constantly recurring fits of jealousy, she only waited an opportunity of getting rid of him. The count was about to visit Geneva to consult Voltaire on a tragedy, entitled Electre^ which he had written. Sophie or- dered her carriage to the door, and had it filled with the ecrins^ laces, and other superb gifts which the count had lavished on her, and she had her two children packed in with the rest of the property. The carriage, with its contents, was driven to the Hotel de Lauraguais. The countess, who received the message, her husband being from home, accepted the charge of the children, but sent back the carriage, jewelry, and laces. Being rather frightened at the idea of the scenes which 86 QUEENS OE SONG. must ensue when the count should return, Sophie entreated the protection of the Comte de Florentin. Lauraguais was thrown into a state of the deepest misery by her unkind treat- ment ; but, being at last somewhat calmed, he asked her to grant him a farewell interview, in order that they might come to some amicable arrangement. She received him very civilly, and he behaved discreetly, as he had promised, and proposed to bestow on her for life a pension of 2000 crowns. Sophie declined to receive any thing from him ; and the countess in- terposed, Griselda-fashion, begging her not to refuse what she desired ; adding that Sophie need be under no uneasiness re- garding the children, as she would take as much care of them as if they were her own. Sophie could not refuse an oifer so generously urged, and sent M. Bertin (of the Academic des Belles-Lettres) to arrange with M. de Lauraguais. She appeared in all Rameau's operas, and acquitted herself to the ever-increasing delight of her audience. Her most popular character for a long time was Iphise, in Dardanus, "created" by Mdlle. Pelissier in 1739. She per- formed to the satisfaction even of Rameau, who thought a goodiieal of himself. He was vain of his facility in adapting words to music, and boasted that he would set a Dutch ga- zette if it was required of him. Sophie Arnould always gave her wit full play, sparing no one, utterly careless of the feelings of others, and never losing a jest even for the sake of decorum. One evening in 1766, she was present at a representation of La Mierre's tragedy of Guillaume Tell^ and observing that the actors outnumbered the audience, she turned to some one who accompanied her and said, " They say usually ' no penny, no paternoster ;' but here they give a great deal of paternoster, and there are no pence at all." Some one showing her a snuff-box on which were painted the portraits of Sully and the Due de Choiseul, she smiled wickedly, and said, " Debit and credit." Seeing an actress who was very thin, she remarked, " II n'est pas neces- saire d'aller a Saint Cloud pour voir jouer les eaux (les os)." Hearing one day that a capucliin had been devoured by wolves, " Poor beasts," said Sophie, compassionately, " hunger must be a dreadful thing." A lady, who was equally remarkable for her beauty and her silliness, complaining to her of the annoy- ances to which she was subjected by the persistency of her SOPHIE AKKOULD. 87 lovers, Sophie told her she knew a way by which she could easily rid herself of their importuuities. The lady besought her to mention it. " You have only to open your mouth and speak," was the reply. The ballet " Des Diables" for some time went all wrong in Castor et Pollux^ the performers danc- ing tout de travers. Sophie said that they were so troubled by the arrival of M. le Due de la Vanguyon that their heads were completely turned. A coxcomb, wishing to annoy her, said one day, " Oh, nowadays wit runs in the streets." " Per- haps some of the fools will try to run after it," she answered. In November, 1V69, Sophie's want of respect for Madame du Barry, at Fontainebleau, drew on her the serious displeas- ure of the king, who ordered that she should be imprisoned for six months at I'Hupital. Fortunately, this order was given merely to end the squabble, and to frighten her ; but her com- rades took advantage of it to torment her, and whenever she appeared among them they would laugh significantly, and ut- ter the word " I'Hupital." At last she was so enraged that she flung up her engagement in a huft", and retired with a pen- sion of 2000 francs and a splendid fortune. Two or three oc- currences at this time made her quit the theatre in disgust. Some people, the moment she was under a cloud, pretended to discover that she had no voice, and that she had literally noth- ing but her beauty and good acting to recommend her. The Abbe Galiani being present one day at one of the court per- formances, and every one round him exclaiming in ecstasies on the voice of Mdlle. Arnould, they eagerly asked his opinion. He shrugged his shoulders and said, " It is the finest asthma I ever heard." But she could not long stay away from the stage ; so she returned with almost as much precipitation as she had left. When Gliick Avas brought to Paris by the then dauphiness, the unfortunate Marie Antoinette, who had been his pupil and patroness when she was an Austrian archduchess, Sophie Ar- nould had the great honor of appearing in the characters of the heroines of his operas, Iphigenie en Aulide^ Orphce^ and Alceste; and she acquitted herself not only to the satisfaction of the public, but of the great composer himself. This at first seems strange, when her very moderate vocal powers are con- sidered ; but Gliick's music is easy of execution, while it is pre- eminently dramatic, and Sophie Arnould's talents as an actress 88 QUEENS OF SONG. niacle up iu these, as in nil ber otlier peiTormances, for Lev de- ficiencies as a singer. But when Gliick's Armide was pro- duced in 1778, the principal character was giv«n to Sophie's rival, Mdlle. Levasseur. Sophie, incensed beyond expression, at once quitted the theatre. She was not regretted, for her sarcasms and spiteful epigrams had raised enemies among her former comrades ; nor was she missed by the public, who had latterly hissed her frequently when she appeared on the stage. For a time she lived in a lodging which overlooked the gar- dens of the Palais Royal. She was full of freaks as ever, and still maintained her old hospitality. Some of her jokes were really silly enough. One evening in 1780 she gave a grand supper, to which, among others, she invited M. Barthe, author of Zes Fausses Infidelites^ and many similar pieces. He was inflated Avith vanity, though he was totally ignorant of every thing away from the theatre, and was, in fact, one of those in- dividuals who actually seem to court mystification and prac- tical jokes. Mdlle. Arnould instructed her servant Jeannot, and had him announced pompously under the title of the Chevalier de Medicis, giving M. Barthe to understand that the young man was an illegitimate son of the house of De Medicis. The pretended nobleman appeared to be treated with respect and distinction by the company, and he spoke to the poet with much afiability, professing much admiration for his works. M. Barthe was enchanted. He was in a flutter of gratified vanity, and, to show his delight at the condescension of the chevalier, he proposed to write an epic poem in honor of his house. This farce lasted during the evening. The assembled company were in convulsions of suppressed laughter, which broke out when, at the moment of M. Barthe's most ecstatic admiration and respect for his new patron, Sophie Arnould lifted her glass, and, looking at the chevalier, said, in a clear voice, " Your health, Jeannot !" The sensations of poor M. Barthe may readily be imagined. The incident became the story of the day iu all circles, and the unlucky poet could not go any where for fear of being tormented about " Jeannot." The shadow of remorse for her jDast dissipated life never crossed the mind of Sophie Arnould ; on the contrary, she often amused by recalling the scenes of her varied career. One day Voltaire said to her, " Ah ! mademoiselle, I am eighty- SOPHIE ARNOULD. 89 four years old, and I Lave committed eiglity-four follies {sot- Uses).'''' "A mere trifle," responded Sophie. "I am not yet forty, and I have committed more than a thousand." At length she withdrew completely from the world, its pleasures, its cares, and its passions. She lived very quietly, but did not escape, even in her solitude, the criticisms of the world, which paid her back her audacity Avith interest. In the evenings she would amuse herself by singing her favorite airs, and often the passers-by would pause to listen. One night she was singing the air oi Ipliigenie — " Adieu, conservez dans votre ame," when suddenly a stentorian voice, issuing from the crowd of idlers, thundered in a lugubrious tone this phrase of Alceste, " Caron t'appelle, entends sa voix !" In 1789 she was forced to sell her pretty villa at Port, which was bought by a musician named Baneux to give fetes cham- petres. She purchased, in 1792, the presbytere of Clignan- court, Luzarches (Seine -et-Oise), which had belonged to a community of monks of the Order of St. Francis. This abode she decorated prettily, and jestingly inscribed over the door " Ite, missa est." She had some idea of living altogether in retirement and devotion, and burying herself in the country, to enjoy the tranquil delights of a rustic life ; but she met with a priest who terrified her, and she changed her mind. "He lost the chance of making a good conversion," she would say when in a melancholy mood. She remained perfectly undis- turbed for a long time amid the storms of the Revolution. Once, however, she was alarmed by a visit from the sans cu- lottes. A deputation waiting on her to know whether she was a good citizen, she received them politely, and assured them that she admired the Republic above all things. They were somewhat dissatisfied, however, fancying that she was not sin- cere, and Avere about to take her to prison to have her opinions more rigidly examined into, when one of them perceived on a console a bust in marble. It Avas Sophie in the character of Iphigenia. The man, deceived, perhaps, by a similarity of fea- ture or expression, or by the scarf — for there could scarcely have been any nearer resemblance betAveen the piquant Sophie and the coarse, brutal-looking Republican, imagined that it Avas the bust of Marat, and drcAV the attention of his comrades to the supposed effigy of their adored hero. "She is a good citoyenne after all," exclaimed he, as he saluted the marble ; 90 QUEENS OF SONG. and they Tbowecl themselves out, convinced that Sophie was a stanch suj^portcv of the tricolor. She had then 30,000 livres a year, and friends without num- ber. Alas for the mutability of human things ! In less than two years she had lost her fortune, and her friends, dispersed by exile, imprisonment, and the scaflold, had vanished like the morning mist. She hastened to Paris with the Avreck of her property, and a lawyer who took charge of her aifairs com- pleted her ruin : she was now reduced to the lowest stage of poverty. The Count dc Lauraguais was still in good circumstances, but Sophie did not solicit aid from her old lover. After a few days a thought struck her. In her brilliant days Fouche had loved her. Pie was now a great man, a minister, and able to afford her help if he would. One morning in 1798 a message was brought to Fouche that a woman demanded an audience, to confide to him something of importance. She was admit- ted, and he recognized Sophie Arnould. He listened to her recital with emotion, and deciding that the woman who had for twenty years labored to entertain the public was entitled to some recompense, he signed an order for a pension of 2400 livres, and ordered that apartments should bo given her in the Hotel d^Angevilliers. And now Sophie Arnould, who the day before had not a friend in the world, saw crowding round her all the poets, artists, fashionable loungers, and philosophers of the time. The charms of her conversation and her vivacity made them forget the ravages of time ; she was once more the Sophie Arnould of tlie old golden days. In 1803 she passed away, obscure, unnoticed. With her also passed away, their departure likewise scarcely recorded, two of the most eminent actresses of the French stage — So- phie's instructor, Clairon, and Sophie's rival, Mdlle. de Beau- mesnil. ANTOINETTE CECILE CLAVEL ST. UUBEETY. 91 CHAPTER IX. ANTOINETTE CECILE CLAVEL ST. HUBEETT. Antoinette Cecile Clavel, born at Toulouse about IVSG, was the daughter of a brave old soldier, who was a musician, and repetiteur to a French operatic troupe in the service of the Elector Palatine. At Manheim, in 1770, M. Clavel, with the troupe to which he belonged, was engaged for the theatre of Warsaw. He took his daughter with him, and the French composer, Lemoyne, who was chef d'orchestre to the company, gave lessons to the young girl during the four years they staid in that city, ulti- mately bringing her out in an opera of his composition en- titled Le Bouquet de Colette. From Warsaw the young candidate for operatic honors went to Berlin, where she married, it is said, a certain Cheva- lier de Croisy. After her marriage she was engaged at the theatre of Strasbourg, and sang there during three years un- der the name of Mdlle. Clavel. She was now bcginnius: to be known, and at last obtained an opportunity of going to Paris, where she appeared, September 23, 1777, at the Academic Royal de Musique, in the little role of Melisse, in Gliick's Ar- micla. She was at first hardly noticed, and was unable to ob- tain any but minor characters. Her salary was a mere pit- tance, and as it was all she had to support herself upon, she occupied a garret in the Rue du Mail ; her furniture consist- ing of a small bed and a trunk, which also served for chair. She attended rehearsal every day dressed in a shabby, scanty black gown, and was obliged to bear witliout a murmur the sneers of her companions, who flaunted about in silks, laces, and jewelry: they nicknamed her Madame la Ressource, from the comedy of JOe Joueur, by Regnard, and were pitiless in their ridicule. In person she was small, thin, and fan- ; her features were not finely formed, and her mouth was of unusual size ; but her countenance was expressive. She had no striking qualities 92 QUEEXS OF SONG. whatever, and a hard German accent vitiated her pronuncia- tion, while extreme nervousness marred the effect of her acting. Despite her faults, Gltick, kind and discriminating, perceiv- ing that she had fervor and talent which only needed careful culture, took a lively interest in the lonely girl, and not only defended her against the sarcasm of her comrades, but set himself to work to develop her gifts. Hearing her called Madame la Hessource, " Yes," he said, " the name is well be- stowed, for this girl will some day be truly the resource of the Opera." The efforts of poor Antoinette to correct her faults were un- ceasing, and justified the judgment of the great master ; and at last she reaped the benefit of her labor. The approaching retirement of Sophie Arnould and of Mdlle. de Beaumesnil gave her an oj)portunity of being heard in an imjjortant part, and on May 12, 1778, she appeared as Angelique, in Piccini's Jioland, with Moreau, It was her first success. The follow- ing July she appeared in Iphigenie en Anlide, with Mdlle. Duranci, Larrivee, and Legros ; but in this she almost failed through excessive timidity. In nowise discouraged, Antoinette still persevered, and in 1780 she gained a triumph in Gretry's new opera of ie Seign- eur Hienfaisant. Her accents were so pathetic in a scena expressive of anguish and despair, that the theatre resounded with plaudits, and the spectators almost forgot that it was but a mimicry of human emotion. So energetically did she ren- der this scena, that at last she seriously injured her health, and was obliged to reijose for some weeks. Her next triumph was Egle, in Thesee, by Gossec, produced March 1, 1782, in which she was seconded by Larrivee, Legros, and Mdlle. Dnplant. Her greatest achievement was in the Ariane of Edelmann. Never had the expression of tender- ness and passion been so exquisitely delineated on the French stage. In October she appeared, with Legros and Larrivee, in IpJngenie en Tauride, which was successfully revived ; and on November 26, she proved, by her performance of Rosette, in Grt'try's I^ Emharras des Hichesses, that she had as much piquancy and delicacy in her talent as she had energy and sensibility. Her conquest of the public was completed when she replaced Rosalie Levasseur as Armide in Sacchini's B,inaldo in 1783. A^sTOINETTE CECILE CLAVEL ST. HUBEKTY. 93 She excited transports of euthusiasm. Marmontel, the Abbe Arnaud, Gingaeue, Morellet, united in saying that she caused all her predecessors to be forgotten. In expression of feeling she rose almost to the sublime, and her countenance was irra- diated Avith fire and passion. The poor little girl who, clad in her Avoru black gown, had jjlodded patiently backward and forward from her squalid garret, and who had labored so per- severingly and waited so immurmuringly, was now Queen of the Opera ; and the death of Mdlle. Laguerre, at the com- mencement of 1783, and, a short time after, the retirement of Mdlle. Levasseur, left her in undisputed possession of the sov- ereignty of the lyric stage. Her voice, acting, pronunciation, and enunciation were now irreproachable. She pronounced in a manner Avhich appeared exaggerated at a time when it Avas the fashion for singers to regard the words as unnecessary appendages to the music; but, as she herself said, she did so to make them com2)rehend- ed in every corner of the house. In 1783, a new grand opera for the spectacles at Fontaine- blcau was demanded of each of the rival composers, Piccini and Sacchini. Sacchini's oj^era of Chimhiey'in which Madame St.Huberty (as she always designated herself) performed, was represented first, and once only, before the court. Marmontel was writing the libretto of Dldon for Piccini, and invited the composer to his country house, and when the work was finish- ed, Madame St. Iluberty, who was to perform the Queen of Carthage, came to dine at Marmontel's house. She was de- lighted with the part, and sang it throughout from the score; " and she expressed it so well," says the jDoet, " that I imag- ined myself at the theatre." During the rehearsals the critics prophesied no brilliant fate for the opera ; but Piccini said, " Gentlemen, do not judge Di- clon until she arrives." And he was right ; for, at the ajipear- ance of Madame St. Iluberty, his opera was received with de- light and admiration at Fontainebleau. Louis XVI., who did not care much for opera, had it performed twice : he was rec- onciled to this style of opera by the acting of St. Iluberty, to whom he gave a pension of 1500 livres, adding one of five hundred more from his privy purse. When it was produced at Paris, December 1st, 1783, Didon had an extraordinary suc- cess, and was acknowledged to be Piccini's masterpiece. 94 QUEENS OF SONG. As Diclon, Madame St. Hubevty surpassed herself. " Never," says Grimm, " has there been united acting more captivating, a sensibiUty more perfect, singing more exquisite, happier by- play, and more noble ahandon?'' She was crowned on the stao-e : an honor hitherto unknown, and since so much abused. The secret of her marvelous gift lay in her extreme sensibility. Others might sing an air better, but no one could give to either airs or recitatives accentuation more pure or more impassion- ed, action more dramatic, and by-play more eloquent. Some one complimenting her on the vivid truth with which she embodied her part, " I really experience it," she said. " In a death-scene I actually feel as if I were dead." Piccini next produced Le Faux Lord at the Comtdie Ital- ienne. In this Madame St. Huberty, who was now in the first rank of vocalists in lyric tragedy, excited frantic enthusiasm whenever she appeared. On one occasion the audience rose with one impulse, and cried " Vive Didon ! Vive la reine de Carthage !" " Ariane abandonnee" was another part in which Madame St. Huberty excelled ; and as Colette, in the Demn du Village^ she appeared a simple country girl. It has been said that Talma was the first who discarded the old absurd costumes of the theatre, but it was in reality Ma- dame St. Huberty who effected the revolution. She studied the Greek and Roman statues, and wore robes in keeping with the antique characters which she assumed, and thus speedily suppressed hoops and powder. In arranging her costume for" Didon, she had a design expressly sent from Rome. Yet still a costume of white satin, with red bordering for the Romans, a buffcoat, with cuirass and helmet for the Cavaliers, a Spanish habit, and a ridiculous Turkish suit, constituted the wardrobes for tragedies ; while Cupid was attired in stockings and breech- es of rose-colored tafieta, with jeweled garters and black shoes embroidered in spangles. Madame St. Huberty also appeared in Hypermnestra, in Les Dcmaiades^ an opera by Salieri, which was produced by Gltick under his name to insure its success ; and in 1785 she appeared in Gretry's Panurge, with Lays. On the retirement of Mdlle. Duplant, Madame St. Huberty was persuaded to essay, in April, 1785, the character of Clytemnestre, in IpMgenie en Aidide; but, from want of strength of voice, this performance was a failure. AJfTOINETTE CKCILE CLAVEL ST. HUBERTY. 95 On Madame St. Hubevty visiting Mai'seilles in this year, the most clistinguisbcd hidies of the city formed her escort, accom- panying her to the pavilion of Marseilles in a gondola, which was surrounded with two hundred little boats, crowded with persons of all classes, and she was saluted with a salvo of artil- lery as if she were a veritable sovereign. The Greek ladies at Marseilles presented her with a rich modern Greek costume, which she wore at her fete, August 15, This fete was most splendid. The popular cancatrice having arrived by sea in a very beautiful gondola, disembarked amid thunders of artillery and the acclamations of the people. She then re-embarked for the purpose of witnessing a water tournament. On leaving the gondola, the people danced round her with tambourines, and conducted her to an illuminated pavilion at a neighboring villa. In a tent was arranged a little theatre champetre, where was played a little allegorical piece composed in honor of this divinity of the Opera by a Proven5al poet. During the ball which followed, Madame St.Hubcrty was placed on an estrade between Meljiomene and Polymnie, the two muses of the piece. Then there were illuminations and a magnificent supper. At the close of the repast some couplets were sung in her honor, to which she replied in some couplets in the Proven9al patois. On quitting Provence, she bore away with her in the inipcriale of her carriage more than a hundred coronets, many of which were of great value. • In 1*790 Madame St. Huberty sent in her resignation to the Opera, when she was complimented by a superb /e/c (Cadieux on her retirement from the stage. On December 29 of that year she married the Count d'Entraigues, with whom she had been intimate for some time previous ; but their union was kept secret for seven years. The count had served in the French army, and was one of the orators of the Constitutional Assembly ; he Avas subsequently appointed Secretary of the French embassy to Spain, and after the peace was attached to the embassy to Russia. On leaving for Vienna he was arrest- ed at Trieste, his pajDcrs seized, and himself thrown into the citadel of Milan, on a charge of connivance with Pichcgru in the affair of Moreau. Ilis wife managed to procure his escape, and he then announced his marriage with her. For this act of devotion, and for saving a portfolio of important papers, Louis XVIII. bestowed on Madame d'Entraigues the Order of St. Michel. 9G QUEENS OF SONG. Count d'Entraigues afterward entered the political service of Russia. He was intrusted with secret missions, and derived great emoluments from carrying to St. Petersburg the secret articles of the peace of Tilsit, copies of which he also sold to the English ministry of which Canning was premier. The count and countess then settled in England, and resided at Barnes. But their life of retirement was soon cut short by the poniard of an assassin. The count's valet, a Piedmontese named Lorenzo, had been bribed by a Venetian refugee or a Swiss, an agent of Foucho, to betray his master and purloin certain j)apers. On the morning of the 22d of July, 1812, as the count was descending the staircase, Lorenzo, who had as- certained that his tragedy was discovered, stabbed his master twice with a dagger, and ran up stairs for a pistol to finish the bloody deed. Meeting the countess, and fearing detec- tion', he stabbed her also, and then attempted to blow out his brains. Both the victims and their murderer died, and the envelopes of the papers he had stolen were found in the trunk of the assassin. Some years after, the wretch who suborned Lorenzo committed suicide by throwing himself from a win- dow. GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA. 97 CHAPTER X. GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA, Gertrude Elizabeth Mara was the daughter of Jobanu Schmiiling, a respectable musician in Hesse Cassel. She was born February 23, 1749. Soon after her birth she lost her mother ; but her father, out of his very limited means and scanty leisure, tried to rear her as best he could. It is easy to picture the little German girl in the home of her childhood, trying to amuse herself during papa's daily ab- sences. Sometimes, as she sits shut up in her solitary apart- ment, debarred from all juvenile sports, she will watch the vi- brating pendulum of the old French clock, and beat time to its motion with her head and hand. Then a noise in the street attracts her attention, and, flying to the window, she mounts a stool, and on tiptoe peers on the outer world — that is to say, on as much as is visible in the dull German strasse — and per- ceives an itinerant guitarist thrumming to a crowd. She drinks in the sounds rapturously, and beats time on the win- dow-ledge with a feeling of delight which is never efl:aced from her mind. Unexpectedly a new pleasure is presented to her, though accompanied by temptation, which perhaps renders it the more delicious. Her father, having picked up from an Italian the art of repairing musical instruments, is often at work mending such instruments as are portable. Gertrude sits on her stool, following his movements with the wondering eyes which be- long exclusively to children, observing his busy fingers with lively curiosity. One day papa, having mended a violin, leaves it on his bench, and then goes out, committing the care of the little room to his almost baby daughter. The solitary child approaches the bench and eyes the violin ; then, quaking at her temerity, she touches it. The strings vibrate ; her ears tingle with the joy of a novel pleasure. She draws the strings again, and, grown bolder by impunity, indulges in a rather too violent pizzicato movement. Oh horror! one of the strings 7 . E 98 QUEENS OP SONG. snaps, and she can do nothing but sit down and wait trem- bUngly for her father's return. Of course she gets a smart scolding from the j^oor hard-worked musician and instrument mender, and is visited with terrible prophecies of what will befall her if she ventures to touch the violin again. For some days she does not dare approach the bench ; but at last, in some more than usually lonely hour, the temptation proves too strong. She begins pulling the magic strings, and is so absorbed in her amusement that her father is in the middle of the room gazing sternly on her before she is conscious of his entrance. Dropping the instrument, she flies, in her dis- may, into a corner, and waits for her father to declare what her punishment shall be. " So," says he, menacingly, " you have again disobeyed me. ]Sr6w, as a punishment, I will make you learn to play that in- strument." To his astonishment, the child, instead of beginning to cry or whimper, runs to the fiddle, and, seizing it with the ardor of a genuine virtuosa, draws from it tones of the softest and most pleasing kind, as if caressing it. Papa can not resist this, and with a half smile quits the field, leaving his daughter mis- tress of the violin. In a short time, such is her assiduity, she is able to run through the greater part of the scale with ease and correctness ; and ere many weeks are out, she is so far proficient that she is, to her pride and delight, able to accom- pany her father in some easy duets. The neighbors soon find out that the solitary little girl has proved a musical prodigy. They flock to the room of Herr Schmaling to listen to the child's performance. Then the more respectable inhabitants — the exclusives — send for the youthful genius ; and frequently she may be seen carried in her father's arms through the streets, going from one house to another. Presents are showered upon her, which tend materially to bet- ter the circumstances of herself and her father; and as the good Herr has by this means more time to devote to the instruction of his child, the advanta2:e is doubled. Some friends advised Herr Schmaling to take his daughter to Frankfort. She was then six years old, and made a sensa- tion. From tlience they proceeded from town to town, till they reached Holland, where, after performing for some time, they were counseled to undertake a journey to England. GERTKUDE ELIZABETH MAE A. 99 Gertrude — or rather Elizabeth, for her first name was gener- ally dropiDed — was ten years of age when she ventured with her father to London, the city where merit is always rewarded. They were well received, as a novelty of the hour, and had the honor of appearing before the king and the court. The child was admired and petted ; but some of the ladies, with the true British antipathy for female fiddlers, advised her to change the violin for the harpsichord. She agreed — or her father for her — to give up her favorite instrument, and he directed her stud- ies toward singing. Meanwhile, as there were several juvenile performers in London at this time, it was determined to give a concert, combining their several talents ; and a fashionable assemblage at the little theatre in the Haymarket one evening witnessed a display of precocious genius. Mdlle. Schmaling and Baron played on the violin, a Miss B. on the harpsichord, and Cervetto on the violoncello. As her voice promised to be a very fine one, Herr Schmaling resolved to obtain good instruction for his daughter, and he placed her with an Italian singer of some repute — Paradisi. The cunning signor soon perceived the value of the gem he was required to polish, and artfully endeavored to enter into a bargain with the worthy German that they should divide all profits for a term of years as an indemnification for his serv- ices ; Herr Schmaling, however, plainly saw the drift of the Italian's proposition, and quietly declined it. Signor Paradisi, disgusted and enraged, I'efused to have any thing more to do with these obstinate Germans, and the young vocalist's father had to take on himself once more the part of musical instructor. But fashion is fickle, and soon the clever little German girl went out of vogue. She next appeared in a very diftcrent sit- uation. It chanced that Dr. Harrington — famous for his large wig and the favorite duet, " How sweet in the woodlands" — was one evening sitting at his window, while he was living at Wells, conversing with some friends who had dined with him, when "a German family" approached, and began a musical per- formance ; the father playing the flute, a woman who accom- panied hira thrumming the guitar, a girl singing, and a boy carrying i-ound a hat to collect halfpence. The tones of the girl's voice, and her brilliant execiition of a piece of music with which the doctor and his friends were familiar, drew their de- lighted attention, and the family were desired to come into the 100 QUEENS or SONG- hall to repeat their performance. The doctor, becoming inter- ested in the musicians, inquired into their circumstances, when the father, in doleful terms, informed him that his name was Schmiiling ; that, being disappointed of obtaining employment in London, and having no pecuniary resources, he had been obliged to adopt this itinerant course as a means of support. Dr. Harrington could do little for him at Wells, which was not a musical place, but he gave Herr Schmiiling letters to some influential people in Bath as an introduction to persons who would patronize a morning concert there, " The girl's voice did not fail to divest the doctor's recommendation of its ap- pearance of enthusiasm. She was heard, wondered at, and talked of. Some amateurs immediately tendered their serv- ices to carry the father's project into effect ; bills were printed, tickets issued and purchased, and the doctor rode over to su- perintend in person the musical arrangements." From the proceeds of this concert enough was obtained to enable the poor musicians to return to their native Germany. On their return to Cassel they were received with delight and warmest welcome by the neighbors who had formerly crowded the room of the worthy Herr Schmiiling to hear his clever child. Almost the first news that the musician heard was that the great Frederick had formed a chapel, and he im- mediately sought to obtain places for himself and his daughter on the establishment. Unfortunately, Frederick had an invin- cible prejudice against German musicians, and determined that he would not engage any if he could help himself; he there- fore looked coldly on the application of Herr Schmiiling. Yet, that he might not appear to act unfairly toward the young artiste, be sent his first singer, Morelli, to a concert which she gave, desiring him to report. Morelli went, listened, and came back. " Ella canta come una Tedesca," said he (" she sings like a German"). Frederick shrugged his shoulders, and did not engage either Elizabeth or her father that time. After a short stay at Cassel, they went in 1V66 to Leipsic, where a concert was organized under the direction of the cel- ebrated Hiller, who desired to introduce the young singer to the notice of the amateurs of that place. Her success was plainly proved by an engagement at the theatre as first singer at a salary of six hundred rix dollars (about eighty pounds) ; a tolerably good beginuuig at that period for a debutante. GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA. 101 She now turned her attention to the harpsichord with such honest zeal, that in a very little time she had thoroughly mas- tered its difficulties, and played at several concerts in public. EUzabeth's personal appearance Avas far from striking. She was by no means handsome, being short and insignificant, with a rather agreeable, good-natured countenance, the leading fea- ture of which was — terrible defect in a singer — a set ^jiuegr . ular teeth, which projected, !n defiance of or'cTer, out of their 131- oper "places. Her manner, however, was prepossessing, thoug;!! she was an indiifereut actress ; but her voice atoned for every thing: its compass was from G to E in altissimo, which she ran with the greatest ease and force, the tones being at once powerful and sweet. Both her portamento di voce and her volubility were declared to be unrivaled. It was re- n: irked that she seemed to take difficult music from choice, aiid she could sing fluently at sight; rather a rare accomplish- ment among vocalists of that day. Nothing taxed her pow- ers. Her execution was easy and neat; her shake was true, open, and liquid ; and though she preferred brilliant, effiictive pieces, her refined taste was w^ell known. " Her voice, clear, sweet, and distinct, was sufficiently powerful," remarked Lord Mount Edgecumbe afterward, "though rather thin, and its agility and flexibility rendered her a most excellent bravura singer, in which style she was unrivaled." " Mara's divisions," observes another critic, "always seemed to convey a meaning; they were vocal, not instrumental ; they had light and shade, and variety of tone." About a year after Elizabeth had appeared in Lcipsic, it was resolved to give a performance at Dresden in honor of the birthday of the prince. It happened that the Grand Duke of Saxony, in company with the dowager Duchess Maria Antonia, paid a visit to Leipsic on the occasion of the great annual fair, and hearing the young singer at a concert which she gave, they expressed their appreciation of her talents in flattering terms. The dowager duchess desired that the young girl should be invited to pei'form at Dresden, and she was invited thither accordingly. Inexperienced, and haunted by that in- definable distrust of herself which always pursues real genius, Elizabeth was fluttered at the idea of singing before a royal circle. Maria Antonia was all kindness, and testified an in- terest in even the costume the young singer was to wear ; it \ 102 QUEENS OF SOXG. was ricli and costly, and the gift of the royal lady. The duchess, seeing her timidity and alarm, which amounted to a ludicrous bashfulness, instructed her in the style in which she should walk and otherwise comport herself on the stage, jDoint- ir-dng out the attitudes most appropriate to the situations of the piece. Mdlle. Schmaling returned to Leipsic in the beginning of 1*708, laden with presents and "decked out like a queen." Naturally the first inquiries of her friends were what impres- sion she had made at Dresden, as people cross-examine young beauties after a ball as to how many partners they had, and how many conquests they achieved. "Did you succeed?" they asked. " They say so," was her naive reply, " but I know I nQthing about it ; I sang as well as I could ; and only see how, in return, they have bedizened me out like a mantua-maker's show-block! This was the way I got on there." "But," they said, "you had some one to instruct you what to do?" "Oh yes; but then I made many sad blunders. I thought how it would be when they once got me there." She was strongly advised to visit Italy, but, attached to her own country, and anxious, for some reason, to see Berlin, she coaxed her father to take her there instead. She was now twenty-two: her voice was completely formed, and its flexi- bility and power of expression excited the admiration of all true judges. It was with confidence that she made her debut at Berlin, in 1771, in Hasse's Piramo e Tishe, with the famous Concialini, who gave her some finishing lessons. She achieved a great success ; to the astonishment of the flute-2)laying, gren- adier-trapping king, who at first would " hardly deign to hear her," Zelter informed Goethe, his majesty having a special [ prejudice against the German style. He declared at first that *^ he as soon expected pleasure from the neighing of his horse as from a German singer; but she was invited to Potsdam, and he agreed to hear her. Indignant at the injustice of being thus condemned solely on account of her nationality, Elizabeth was too angry to feel any awe at the idea of singing before her royal critic. She presented herself with a degree of confidence which nerved her for any task, and found, sitting close to the piano-forte, a little, crabbed, lean old man, with a slightly stooping figure, attired with Spartan simplicity in an old blue coat with red \ GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA. 103 facings, and a liberal allowance of Spanish snuff on the breast, in whom she soon recognized the king. Beside him lay his battered military cocked hat and his thick cane, ^vhich he used as a riding-whip, hitting the horse between the ears. The royal physiognomy was not prepossessing : the thin lips, prom- inent jaws, snuffy nose, receding brow, and grim expression, did not seem to promise much leniency ; and the eyes, of su- pernatural brilliancy, were fixed steadily on Elizabeth with a most disconcertingly piercing expression. As he said nothing, and made no sign for her to approach, the cantatrice, with a coolness acquired by her trying situation, commenced examin- ing some paintings which hung near her. At legnth Freder- ick condescended to beckon to her. She advanced and courte- sied. "So you are going to sing me something?" he said, abruptly. "As your majesty pleases," was her reply, curt as the in- j quiry; and she seated herself at the piano-forte without far- ther ceremony. The king listened with profound attention. He was aston-j ished, but would not admit it. Taking an enormous handful of snuff from his huge box, "Ha! can you sing at sight?" he asked. And, ere she had time to answer, he picked out the most trying bravura in his collection. "This, to be sure," said he, placing it before her, "is but poor stuff, but when well executed it sounds pretty enough." She sang it without a single mistake; then sang another; and at last the king was fairly vanquished. He said a thou- sand flattering things, and dismissed her with a handsome present. After this she was daily, and for several weeks to- gether, invited to Potsdam ; and finally, the next year, she was retained as court singer, with a salary of 3000 Prussian dollars — about £450. Being desirous of perfecting herself in the science of music, she went through a course of thorough bass under the well- known Kirnberger. She might have felt a fear lest his maj- esty should find her deficient in any particular; for Freder- ick's enthusiasm for music was only equaled by his love for war and his passion for snuff. His favorite amusement was playing on the flute ; and he really was a master of the instru- ment. His si^lcndid collection of flutes was attended to by a man specially retained to keep them dry or moist, as the 104 QUEENS OF SONG. weather required. These flutes, which were all made by the same manvifacturer, cost a hundred ducats each. Nobody was permitted to attend his majesty's concerts be- sides the performers and a very few select friends. So fearful was Frederick, however, of being detected in a false note, that when first trying over some new piece of music, he would shut himself up for hours in his private apartment to practice it ; and even then, when beginning it with the accompaniment, he Avould tremble like an aspen. The king defrayed the entire expenses of the Opera, the performances being always free. At six o'clock in the evening, with military punctuality, his majesty took his place in the pit, close to the orchestra, behind the leader, where he could easily see the score, and so detect the slightest deviation or fault committed by the singers. The orchestra consisted of fifty-one performers (two harpsi- chord players among the number). The vocalists were, Sig- nora Agricola, wife of the composer, and fifty years of age ; Signora Gasparini, a fine antique of seventy-two ; Signer Con- cialini. Signer Porporino, and Elizabeth Schmaling. Charles Concialini, born at Sienna in 1744, had come from the court of Bavaria in 1764 to form part of the great Frederick's chap- el. The qualities which distinguished him were a beautiful mise de voix, great lightness, and, above all, a delicious trill. Being installed as principal singer at the court of Prussia, Mdlle. Schmaling, perhaps, found she had more time at her dis- posal than she knew Avell what to do with, for in 1773 she fell in love with a handsome violoncellist", named Jean Mara, a na- tive of Berlin, a favorite of Prince Henry, the king's brother. He was a showy, extravagant man, and made such an impres- sion on her susceptible heart that she accepted his ofier of marriage. The king, knowing the morals and character of his brother's dashing violoncellist, gave his protegee some well- meant hints. But love is proverbially blind ; and as it was difficult to obtain permission to marry, the lovers absented themselves without leave. They were captured immediately, and Mara was exiled to a regiment at Kastrin, where he was compelled to become a fifer. Probably Vater Fritz thought it would be more judicious and more gracious to give his con- sent to the alliance ; so Mara was permitted to return to Ber- lin, and the union was solemnized. In a very short time after her marriage, Elizabeth found GERTEUDE ELIZABETH MAEA. 105 that hei* beloved Jean had a heavy arm and an energetic meth- od of expressing his opinions, especially in such family debates as might be brought forward for discussion after dinner. The king heard of his doings; and being informed on one occasion that he had beaten his wife with such violence that she was unable to appear in the royal jiresence from a discolored eye, the indignant monarch (who did not hesitate to break even one of his favorite flutes on the head of a pet hussar in a mo- ment of excitement) sent for the brute Mara, and telling him that as he was so fond of beating, it would be a pity to debar him full exercise in his amusement, packed him ofl'to play the part of drummer to one of his regiments for a mouth. Accompanied by her husband — whom she was always for- giving — Madame Mara paid a visit in 1777 to her native place, where she was enthusiastically received. A concert was proposed, and so great was the demand for tickets that no building, even the theatre itself, was sufficient to contain the number of applicants. A second concert Avas almost as fully attended. Between the parts of the programme she was in- vited into the grand duke's box, and received by the potent- ate with flattering attention : he kissed her on the forehead, and overwhelmed her with praises. After this she sang in a selection of sacred music, given for the benefit of the charita- ble institutions of the place, in the cathedral church, which was crowded to excess. Of the effect she produced, some idea may be formed from the well-known exclamation of the celebrated prcachei', Pfistcr, when on his death-bed : "I should die more at case could I but once again hear Madame Mara in the temple of the Lord my God !" In 1779, in consequence of the Bavarian succession, there was no Carnival. The same year Madame Mara received an invitation to siuGC in London. She was offered an enormous sum — it was said £1G00 for three evenings, but that surely must have been a mistake — together with £2500 to defray her traveling expenses. It was awkward asking for a conr/e, as the royal Frederick was determined she should not leave his kingdom. She asked, however. The reply was laconic, but significant : " Madame Mara may go, but M. Mara must stay where he is." The great Fritz depended on her passionate love for her husband to keep her. Unluckily for this hypoth- esis, the handsome brute preferred money even to the society E 3 106 QUEENS OF SO^'G. of liis fair Elizabeth, and he proved to her by striking argu- ments that she could easily make the journey under the pro- tection of a female relative. The king, on hearing this, re- fused to let her go. Poor Madame Mara was so unhappy at the disappointment that she was laid up with a dangerous fever. On recovering from her attack, she was forbidden by her physicians to sing for some time, and ordered to the baths of Toplitz. The grim Frederick being asked for leave of ab- sence — " Freyenwalde will do quite as Avell," said his majesty, in his customary laconic style. But Elizabeth Mara was a woman, and as obstinate as Queen Anne. She repeated her asseverations that it was indispensa- ble she should recruit her health by a visit to the Bohemian baths; and finding that her representations made no impres- sion on the obdurate monarch, she determined to neglect her professional duties, in the hope of being dismissed. It chanced that the Czarovitch, Paul I. of Russia, paid a visit to the Prussian capital at this juncture, July, 1780, to demand the hand of the Princess of Wirtemberg, and Berlin was in a state of extraordinary excitement. Old Frederick set the ex- ample of lavish magnificence, and his loyal subjects followed suit. Those who could afford, and many who could not, ex- pended hundreds of crowns in lace and embroidery ; while others who were more prudent either retired to the country, or else confined themselves to their houses. The Opera was in full preparation. At one of the rehearsals Jean Mara mali- ciously observed that he believed the composer understood more of soldiery than of music ; and as this Avas not the first sarcasm of the kind he had been imprudent enough to indulge in, he was, by command of the great Frederick, made over to the corps de garde, with strict orders to correct him for his in- solence. Xo particular mode of punishment was prescribed, so each soldier inflicted such chastisement as he considered most fitting. They began by rigging him out in an old uni- form and a large pair of whiskers, loading him with the heaviest firelock they could find, and forced him to go through the manual exercise for two hours, accompanying their drill with the usual discipline of the cane. They then made him dance and sing for two hours longer, and ended this persecu- GEETKUDE ELIZABETH MABA. 107 tion by compelling the surgeon to take from him a large quan- tity of blood. In a miserable condition they restored him to his disconsolate Avife, Avho had been essaying all her arts to persuade the officer of the guard to mitigate the poor wretch's punishment. Madame Mara was announced to appear in one of her great parts in the opera; but now, being bent on eflecting her es- cape, she feigned illness. Her royal patron sent her notice in the morning that she was to get well and sing her best. She immediately grew worse ; in short, she was unable to leave her bed. Two hours before the opera commenced, a carriage, escorted by eight soldiers, drew up in front of her house, and the captain of the guard unceremoniously entered her cham- ber, intimating that he had orders to bring her to the theatre "dead or alive." The ire of madame rose. " You can not," she exclaimed, Avith tears of rage. " You see I am in bed." "That is of little consequence," imperturbably responded the captain of the guard. "We will take you bed and all." Madame Mara's eyes flashed fire ; but, reading determina- tion in every line of the obdurate officer's countenance, she prudently demanded an armistice. "I will go to the theatre," she said, mentally resolving to sing so badly as, with a mag- nificent voice and irreproachable taste, she could possibly man- age. Resolutely she kept to this idea till the curtain was about to descend on the first act, when a tliought suddenly seized her. Might she not be ruining herself in giving the Grand Duke of Russia a bad opinion of her powers ? In a bravura she burst forth in all her brilliance and glory, distin- guishing herself especially by a marvelous shake, wliich she executed with such wonderful arti as to call down thunders of applause. Ilaving thus voluntarily abandoned her first line of tactics, she tried another, and resolved to make her escape by means of a large harpsichord which she greatly valued, and Avhich seemed to the king a security for its mistress. Pretending that she desired to have it repaired, she had it removed ; but, instead of having it brought back to her house, she sent it out of the kingdom, and prei)ared to follow it. Her husband ac- companied her. They intended to reach Vienna by route of Saxony and Bohemia, whence they might make their way to 108 QUEENS OF SONG. Paris and London. An officer attempted to detain them on the frontier, when Madame Mara quietly drew a letter from her pocket, and held it toward him, declaring that the king had changed his mind. " Here is his permission," she said, with the utmost self-possession, " in which he has given me leave to go." The letter was actually from the great Frederick, but its purport was of a very diflerent nature to what she repre- sented. The officer, knowing her influence at court, did not venture to do more than glance respectfully at the royal signa- ture, and allowed her to jDass without farther questioning. They had just gained the gates of Dresden, when they found that the Prussian charge d'aflaires resided in the city. " No one can conceive my agitation and alarm," said Madame Ma- ra, " when, in one of the first streets Ave entered, we encount- ered the said charge d'aflaires, who rode direct up to us. He had been apprised of our arrival, and the chaise was instantly stopped. As to what took place between him and my good man, and how the latter contrived to get out of the scrape, I was totally unconscious. I had fallen into a swoon, from which I did not recover till we had reached our inn." At length they reached the confines of Bohemia, and for the first time supped in freedom and secui-ity. The fugitives reached Vienna in the beginning of March, 1780. Frederick dispatched a messenger to the Emperor Jo- seph, begging him to arrest them. The good, eccentric Joseph was too kind-hearted to do any thing of the sort; but he gave the pair a hint that, as there was no resisting the requests of the King of Prussia, their wisest course would be to get away as fast as possible, so that he might inform his royal neighbor that the messenger arrived too late. When the alarm had subsided, Madame Mara appeared in Vienna. Although so eminent in Berlin, the Viennese had scarcely heard of the Mara, and she made a very slight impres- sion. The Italian singers cabaled against her, determined to prevent her from having any access to the art-loving Maria Teresa ; but the queen, who liked to know every thing about every body, sent for her, and was as kind as her son Joseph had been. She treated her Avith the greatest condescension, and became her warmest patron. Henceforth Mara's success was assured ; and, after a stay of nearly two years, she determ- ined on a iourney to Paris, taking Avith her autograph letters GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA. 109 of introduction, wliicli her illustriov;s patroness had written be- fore her death to her daughter, the beautiful Marie Antoinette. Madame Todi was then in the zenitli of her fame, the object of the enthusiastic homage of the Parisians. But Madame Mara sang before the royal family at Versailles, and appeared in public in Paris, and was immediately elected a rival of the Portuguese prima donna ; the French dividing into two oppo- sition parties, one for Mara, the other for Todi. It was not long before Mara was honored with the title ofjjremih'e can- tatrice de la reine. The queen gave her many testimonies of regard, and was very kind to her. Having a desire to visit Italy, Mara on one occasion mentioned her wish to her majes- ty. Marie Antoinette listened, a,nd then replied, sadly, " Do not go to Italy. You would expose yourself to danger in so doing, and life is but too precious to us." The prophetic tone in which this was uttered, although there appeared to have been no ground for the queen's fears, struck a chill to the heart of Mara, and she gave up the idea, accepting in lieu an engage- ment offered by the directors of the London Pantheon, who gave her a thousand guineas for thirteen nights. Madame Mara left Paris with her husband, and arrived in London in 1Y84. Her reception by the public was enthusiast- ic ; and so great was the attraction, that the receipts of the house are stated to have amounted to an enormous sum. The Prince of Wales patronized her, and she became "the fashion" at once. Unfortunately for the continuance of her popularity, that was a bad year for the Pantheon ; a dissolution of Parlia- ment and general election absorbed the attention oftlie public to an extent that was seriously injurious to the theatres and other places of amusement. On the expiration of her engagement at the Pantheon, Mara entered into a joint proprietorship with Linley and Dr. Arnold for the production of oratorios at Drury Lane. "When Madame Mara appeared in London, it happened that George III. conceived the idea of paying a grand tribute to the memory of his favorite composer, the immortal Ilandcl, and it was decided that a selection of music exclusively from the works of that great master should be performed in West- minster Abbey. The directors were in sore distress for a lead- ing female singer, as there were at this time but few first-class singers ia London, and these were either pre-engaged, or dif- 110 QUEENS OF SONG. fident of their power of making their voices heard to advan- tage in an enormous building like Westminster Abbey. Mara, wishing to overcome an unfavorable impression which had lately gained ground against her, and also to pay honor to her distinguished countryman, volunteered her gratuitous services. Her offer was gladly accepted, the directors of the Pantheon giving their consent to her appearance. It would be impossible in words to give even a faint idea of the effect of that magnificent festival. The orchestra was led by the Cramers ; the conductors were Joah Bates, Dr. Arnold, and Dupuis. The band consisted of several hundreds of performers. The singers were, in addition to Madame Mara, Signora Storace, Miss Abrams, Miss Poole (afterward Mrs. Dickons), Rubinelli, Harrison, Bartleman, Sale, Parry, Norris, Kelly, etc. ; and the choruses, collected from all parts of the kingdom, amounted to hundreds of voices. The Abbey was arranged for the accommodation of the public in a superb and commodious manner, and the tickets of admission were one guinea each. The first performance took i^lace on May 26, 1784 ; and such was the anxiety to be in time, that ladies and gentlemen had their hair dressed overnight, and slej^t in arm- chairs. The weather being very fine, eager crowds presented themselves at the several doors of the Abbey at nine o'clock, although the door-keepers were not at their posts, and the or- chestra was not finished. At ten o'clock the scene became almost terrifying to the visitors, who, being in full dress, were every moment more incommoded and alarmed by the violence of the crowds pressing forward to get near the doors. Sev- eral of the ladies screamed ; others fainted ; and the general dismay increased to such an extent that fatal consequences were anticipated. Some of the more irascible among the gen- tlemen threatened to burst open the doors ; " a measure," says Dr. Burney, " which, if adopted, would probably have cost many of the more feeble and helpless their lives, as they must, in fi^lling, have been thrown down and trampled on by the ro- bust and impatient part of the crowd." However, except that some went in with " disheveled hair and torn garments," no real mischief seems to have been done. The spectacle was gorgeous. The king, queen, and all the royal family were ushered to a superb box, opposite the or- chestra, by the directors, wearing full court suits, the medal of GEETEUDE ELIZABETH MAEA. Ill Handel, struck for the occasion, suspended by "wMte satin ro- settes to their breasts, and having white staves in their hands. The body of the cathedral, the galleries, and every corner, were crowded with beauty, rank, and fjishion, listening with almost devout silence to the grand creations of the great composer, not the faintest token of applause disturbing the impressive solemnity. ])Iara was superb in this performance, and gained fresh leaves for her crown of laurel. She surpassed herself in the sublime recitative, " Sing ye to the Lord, for lie hath triumphed glo- riously." The full, solemn, and affecting tones of her voice im- pressed every heart, and her exquisite style almost vanquished criticism. There were a few, nevertheless, who resisted the magic of her tones. Miss Seward was one June morning, dur- ing these performances, breakfasting Avith Mr. Joah Bates, the director, when she remarked, as a delicate piece of flattery to his wife's singing of Handel's finest airs, that in her opinion Mara put too much gold and fringe upon that solemn robe of melody, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." " Do not say gold, madam," repUed Joah, tartly ; " it was despicable tinsel." He was yet perfectly conscious of the Mara's magnificent qualities, and perhaps he had been put out of temper by some of the cantati'ice's impertinences. A more innocent critic pro- nounced a judgment on her performance about the same time — the daughter of a nobleman, who was taken by her papa to hear the great vocalist. On the conclusion of " Holy, holy," the young lady continued standing as if entranced, until roused by some persons near her sneering at Mara's dress. Turning round suddenly, with an indignant look, she exclaimed, " She will go to heaven, for all that, to sing Allelujah." The second performance was at the Pantheon, on Tuesday evening. May 27th. The audience assembled very early for fear of not gaining admittance, and the crowd was excessive. "The extreme heat of the weather," observes Dr. Burney, " augmented by the animal heat of more than 1600 people, closely wedged together, must have considerably diminished the delight which the lovers of music expected to receive from this night's exhibition." This evening Mara produced a tre- mendous efiect in ""While I retire," from Afahoita. The three remaining performances were held at "Westminster 112 QUEENS OP SONG. Abbey, May 29th, Juno 3d, aud June 5th. During one of them a striking coincidence happened. The morning had been cloudy and lowering ; but when the grand cliorus commenced, "Let there be light, and light was over all," the sun burst forth, and with its rays illumined every part of the venerable buildino-. On another occasion, during one of the choruses descriptive of a storm, a hurricane burst over the Abbey, and pealed, and thundered, and rattled in unison with the music. But perhaps the most effective spectacle was presented during the performance of the chorus, "The Lord God omnipotent reigneth." The audience were so moved that the king, queen, and all present, rose by a simultaneous impulse, and remained standing till the close of the chorus. From this time it grew to'be the fashion to stand while that part of the music was be- ing executed. Madame Mara gave great offense by persisting in retaining her seat while the royal fomily, with all who were present be- sides — the principal nobility and gentry of the kingdom — stood up. She offered many excuses for her conduct: she was not accustomed to join in the choruses abroad, and did not think it necessary to rise till her solos came ; she was ill ; her med- ical adviser had prohibited her from standing unless under positive necessity. Her supposed perversity became known at Oxford, where she was engaged for the Grand Musical Meet- ing, and the people of that city resolved to teach her a lesson. Upon her appearance in the theatre, she was called upon from all sides to explain whether she meant to pi'actice the same disrespect there. She did not make any reply, not understand- ing a word of what they were saying ; but Dr. Hayes, a wor- thy professor, whose leading characteristic was a love of " speechifying," came forward to assure the audience that Madame Mara w^ould stand up during the execution of the choruses. In his eagei'ness to allay the storm of indignation, however, he blundered egrcgiously, and made an absurd and childish mistake ; the audience laughed, and seemed inclined to recover their good-humor, when she again offended. One of the musicians in the orchestra happened to play a little out of tune, when Mara, in a passion, turned and flung her book at the delinquent. This outburst of irritability hurt the feel- ings of Dr. Chapman, then vice-chancellor, and he rose, ex- claiming, " Madame Mara has conducted herself too ill to be GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA. 113 suffered to sing any more before this audience." Instantly a wicked wag cried out, "A riot, by permission of the vice-chan- cellor !" A scene of the utmost confusion ensued, and the agi- tated cantatrice quitted the theatre amid hisses and yells, in high dudgeon. A deputation of gentlemen waited upon her, and promised that she should do exactly as she pleased if she would only return. She did return, and sang the airs allotted to her, but remained seated as usual while the choruses were being sung. A cry arose of "Turn Mara out !" Not compre- hending, she smiled, which provoked the audience still more; upon which the vice-chancellor said that it was always the rule for every vocalist to join in the choruses. Miss George, one of the singers, explained this to the prima donna, who, star- ing in bewilderment and vexation, exclaimed, " Oh ! me does not know his rules ; me vil go home ;" which resolution she immediately carried into effect. Madame Mara never could acquire a command of the En- glish language, although she passed some time in this country, and had been here Avhen a child. But such was her fire, dig- nity, and tenderness, that even those who were the most keen- ly sensible to the ridiculous effects of mispronunciation never could smile at her mistakes. Dr. Chapman made her formally acquainted with the dis- pleasure of the whole body of gownsmen, and jirohibited her from ever singing again at the University. Indeed, he went so far as to announce in the Oxford Journal that "the unbe- coming conduct of Madame ]\[ara has given rise to just com- plaints ; but we doubt not that, as the Oxonians have taken upon them to become her tutors, she will henceforth know bet- ter how to comport herself" To this Mara published an angry reply in the same journal, trying to exculpate herself. " As to Dr. Chapman," she dis- dainfully concluded, "he deserves nothing but my pity." She acquired a great reputation as a singer of sacred music, and the directors of the Ancient Concerts engaged her in 1785. It had not been her intention at first to appear on the stage, but chance enlisted her under the operatic standard. It was soon after her debut in the metropolis that Michael Kelly, shortly after his return from Italy, happened one evening to offend her. She was in the green-room of Drury Lane, with some other ladies, at the conclusion of the first part of an ora- 8 114 QUEENS OP SONG. torio, Avhen Dr. Arnold, turning to tlie young composer, said, " Pray, Mr. Kelly, tell us what sort of a singer is Signora Stor- ace ?" He replied that iu his opinion she was " the best sing- er in Europe," meaning " in her line." Madame Mara, highly offended, on Kelly's quitting the room, said that he was an im- pertinent coxcomb ; and, actuated by professional jealousy, she exerted herself to prevent his being engaged by Dr. Ar- nold and Linley during the summer. By a fortunate accident, Kelly was enabled to atone for his offense. He went one night into the green-room to speak to Mrs. Croucli, but found the sole occupants of the apartment Madame Mara and M.Ponte, first French-horn player to the King of Prussia, an intimate friend of Mara's, who was engaged to perform a concerto at the ora- torio. This gentleman said to Mara iu German, "My dear friend, my lips are so parched with fear that I am sure I sliall not make a sound on the instrument. I would give the world for a little water or beer to moisten my lips." " There is no- body to send," replied Madame Mara, in the same language ; " and yet, if I knew where to get something for you to drink, I would go myself" Kelly, who Avas standing at the fire, ad- dressed the cantatrice in German, and said, "Madame, I should be sorry for you to have that trouble, and I sit lazy by ; I v^ill with great pleasure go and get M. Ponte some porter." He accordingly dispatched a messenger for a foaming tankard, and on its arrival he handed it to the thirsty and grateful musician, who at that instant was summoned to play his concerto. Ma- dame Mara gracefully thanked Kelly for his attention, and gave him a Avarm invitation to call at her house in Pall Mall — an invitatioh Avhich he was so glad to receive that the next day, at two o'clock, he presented himself During the inter- view which passed, she frankly told him that she had taken a violent dislike to him, but that his kindness to her timid friend on the preceding evening had gained her heart. Having thus apologized, she inquired pointedly if he took a benefit at the theatre that season. On learning that he purposed so doing, she said, "It Avas my intention not to appear on the stage; yet, if you think my playing for your benefit for the first and only time will be of service to you, I beg you will command me." " I Avas thunderstruck at her kindness and liberality," says Kelly, " and thankfully accepted. She fixed on Mandane, in \ GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA. 115 Artaxerxes, and brouglit the greatest receipt ever known at that house, as the whole pit, with the exception of two benches, was railed into boxes. So much," he adds, sententiously, "for a little German proficiency, a little common civility, and a pot of porter." It was a wonderful act of condescension on her part, for she was as obstinate as she was gifted. Madame Mara proved so valuable an addition to the Opera company that she was persuaded to remain on the stage. It was with difficulty that arrangements Avere made for opening the Opera House in the beginning of 178G. The bankruptcy being settled, Sir John Gallini was now the happy individual " invested with the power of ruining himself." No perform- ers having arrived from Italy, the company was not completed till the middle of the season, when Madame Mara became for a thne the sole support of the establishment. There was no leading male singer, so the weak and unequal, though scientific Babbini was promoted to first parts, his own being consigned to Tasca, a bass singer who had appeared in the comic opera of the preceding year. The first opera was DUlone Ahhando- nata^ a pasticcio, for which the Mara had made a very judi- cious selection of songs from Sacchini, Piccini, Mortcllari, Gaz- zaniga, and other eminent composers ; " all of which were so much admired," says Lord Mount Edgecumbe, "that two were encored every night, each of them receiving that mark of approbation in its turn," a token of admiration never ac- corded before to any other singer except Manzoli. Her own performance in this opera was perfect, and gave entire satis- faction. In addition to singing at the Opera, Mara appeared at vari- ous musical festivals. That season she sang at Worcester, her husband too being engaged among the leading instrumentalists. He was now as attentive as possible to his Avife. Once, while on a visit to the Earl of Exeter, at that nobleman's splendid seat, Burleigh, near Stamford, in Lincolnshire, Madame Mara expressed in private her distaste for the earl's claret. Mara immediately sent a servant to Stamford for a post-chaise and four horses, with which he dashed oflTto London, and returned the next morning Avith a case of claret from her OAvn cellar. Certainly he Avas to assist in drinking it. In 1788, Mara Avent to Turin for the season of the Carnival. At the theatre there it was an established custom to open the J 116 QTTEENS OF SOJfG. new season with a fresh singer, who supplied the place of the i departing vocalist, whether a soprano or a tenor. The tenor '• whom she was to succeed, piqued at his dismissal, and anxious to prevent her success, ridiculed her as a perfect monster of \ ugliness, and an abominably bad singer. Mara heard this, and devised a plan for mortifying the Italian. At her first re- j hearsal, she made her appearance in a formal old-fashioned / dress, and, laughing to herself at the joke, sang as much out of tune as possible. Sure of his triumph, the signor went i about saying to every body he knew, " Didn't I say so ? In 1 person she is as ugly as sin ; and her voice — never was heard i so vile a jargon of sounds." What was his dismay when, the following evening, Madame Mara presented herself dressed with simple elegance, and sang in a voice sweet as music itself, with an air of conscious supei'iority. The signor vanished, and was never heard of more in Turin. The German sons:- stress was crowned upon the stage, and the next day was hon- ored by an invitation to court, where she was received by the king and queen with the most condescending kindness, and loaded with rich pi-esents. She went from Turin to Venice, where she had again to contend against the jealousy of the Italian singers. But her reception by the public was enthusiastic; and on the night which terminated her engagement, an unexpected ovation was organized for her. On the fall of the curtain, when recalled, she found a richly decorated throne prepared. She was seated thereon, when the canvas clouds above opened, and a shower of roses, intermingled with complimentary sonnets, rained down, and the curtain rising behind her discovered the figures of Apollo and the Muses pointing toward her with admiring looks. A deputation of ladies and gentlemen then waited on her with congratulations, and she was induced to j^romise that she would return the following season. After this she was invited to Rome and XajDles, but she pre- ferred to return to Loudon, where she arrived in 1790. Dur- ing that season she appeared at the Gloucester Musical Festi- val, her husband being, as usual, among the principal instru- mental performers. Unforeseen difiiculties preventing the King's Theatre from opening the next season, the Pantheon was transformed into a temporary Opera House by Mr. "NVyatt, who ingeniously GEETEUDE ELIZABETH MAKA. 117 contrived to enlarge the building without injuring it. The regular opera was here very successfully carried on. Mara, Pacchierotti, and Lazzarini — a pleasing singer with a sweet tenor voice — vv^ere at the head of the serious opera, and Casen- tini, " a very pretty woman and genteel actress," Avith Lazza- rini for tenor, Morelli and Cipriani, principal buflbs, supported the comic. " It was the first time Pacchierotti had met with a good prima donna since Madame Lebrun," remarks Lord Mount Edgecumbe. " His duettos with Mara were the most perfect pieces of execution I ever heard." They appeared in Sacchiui's Minaldo^ Bertoni's Quinto Fabio (revived), and a charming new piece by Sarti, called Idalide ; or, ia Vergine dd Sole. Lord Mount Edgecumbe decides that, altogether, ho never enjoyed the Opera so well as at this theatre. In 1 792, Mara, intending to return to Germany, went to Par- is, where she witnessed the horrors of the Revolution, and saw the mob accompanying the unhappy queen to the Temple. With a thrill of grief, she beheld her former patroness, with a countenance pale and wan, seated in an open chariot, surround- ed by guards with drawn swords. On returning to England she arranged her domestic affairs. Her husband had exhaust- ed her patience by his extravagance and vices, and, painful as the alternative was, she felt that she must separate from him forever. She settled on him an annuity sufficient to afford him a competency for life, and from that time they never met. Harris, of the Theatre Royal, Dublin, engaged Madame Mara in 1797; and, despite her personal disadvantages — which were great to those who had seen the resplendent Mrs. Billing- ton or the lovely Mrs. Crouch in the character — she chose to ippear as Polly, which she did Avith undoubted success. "She could not sing ill, but she was not exactly suited for the pretty Polly of the Beggar's Opera^'' was Mount Edgecumbe's re- mark. She sang the airs Avith a delicious simplicity, scarcely ever calling in the aid of a shako or a roulade. Pure enuncia- tion, and the most precise intonation of the scale, Avcre Avhat she particularly aimed at. Dr. Arnold said that he had seen her dance, and go through the most violent and fatiguing ges- ticulations Avhilc running through the scale, yet such Avas her power of chest that the tone Avas as undisturbed and free as if she had been standing in the sedate position of the orchestra. Mrs. Billington, Avho had no professional jealousies, declared V 118 QUEEIN-S OF SONO. that she considered Mava's execution to be superior to her own in genuine effect, though not in extent, compass, rapidity, and compHcation. " She was by turns majestic, tender, pa- thetic, or elegant," and neither in ornament, graces, nor in ca- dences did she ever lose sight of the original character of the melody. If any one praised the rapid vocalization of a singer, , Mara would significantly demand, "Can she slug six plain ; notes?" To a full, rich-toned voice she added, however, when / the occasion called for it, brilliant execution, and a pathos and / elevation of sentiment which rendered her at once the finest / bravura and oratorio sinsrer ever heard. Her renderiuo- of Handel's airs — especially " I know that my Redeemer liveth" — was faultless. Her contempt for nnmeaning florid orna- mentation was once very forcibly expressed. Being one night at the Lent oratorio, and hearing one of the female singers go- ing through some of her own favorite pieces, she was asked by a lady who sat next her what she thought of the singer's per- * X formance". " Ma'am," she replied, " she dances a tolerably good \ i \ fandango." She was a thoroughly scientific vocalist, and a pet \ • theory with her was, that the best way to begin the education \ of a singer would be to teach the pupil to tune an instrument or to play on the violin. She declared that if she had a daugh- i ter, the child should " learn the fiddle" before she uttered a ' note ; " for," said she, " how can you best convey a just notion of slight variations in the pitch of a note — by a fixed instru- ; ment ? No. By the voice ? No. But by sliding the finger \ up the string you instantly make the most minute variations visibly as well as audibly perceptible." _^ " Madame Mara, during her residence in this country, taught singing at home at two guineas per lesson," says Dr. Kitch- ener. " I mentioned to her that I feared the expense, being- double any other musician, would confine her number. She I said, ' Well, I can not help that : when I give a lesson in sing- ; ing, I sing with my scholars ; by so doing they learn in half i the time they can if taught in the usual way — by the master merely playing the tune of the song on the piano. People can not teach what they don't know — my scholars have my sing- ing to imitate — those of other masters seldom any thing but i the tinkling of a piano. The fatigue to the teacher, and the \ superior ability required to teach it, certainly deserve double \ the price paid for learning to play on an instrument.' " It was GERTRUDE ELIZABETH MARA. 119 a favorite maxim of hers that singing can only be taught b}'- a singer ; adding, that such was the fatigue attending it, that they should not attempt to teach others till they have done singing in public themselves. She very benevolently gave gra- tuitous lessons to several professional singers ; among others, she instructed Miss Povey, whom she jDronounced to be the most promising singer she had ever heard in England. As time wore on, Mara began to decline in voice, and con- sequently in favor ; the managers of the Opera no longer cared to secure her services, and she had to content herself with singing at the Ancient Music and other concerts for a long time. In 1801, during Lent, she sang in HimdeVs Ac is and Galatea, in which she gave, for the first time, " the admired air" of " Consider, fond shepherd." In this she was accompa- nied on the oboe by Parke, who followed her with such won- derful accuracy through all her vocal flights, that at the termi- nation of the evening's performance she observed good-humor- edly to Dr. Arnold, "I think that, in the song 'Consider, fond shepherd,' if I could have made a flight to Germany, Mr. Parke would have followed me." " Yes, madamc," replied the doc- tor, gallantly, " if you had made a flight to the infernal regions, no doubt he would have followed you there, to make the Apol- lo-like attempt of conducting you, like another Eurydice, back again to delight the public." At last she quitted England in 1802, partly being oftended, it was rumored, by some animadversions which had been made on a fracas which had occurred between herself and her maid ; for Mara, who could sing sacred music in so thrilling a manner and with such sublimity of expression, had not the softest of tempers ; though, like most irascible j^ersons, she behaved with much courtesy " in company." She took a formal leave of the public in a concert, which yielded about seven hundred pounds. Mrs. Billinglon, in compliance Avith her entreaty, agreed to sing for her at this concert ; and it is said tliut Mara was so overcome by her rival's generosity, that she burst into tears on being informed of her consent. The sister queens sang a duct, composed expressly for the occasion, but of which no trace remains. " When the incomparable jMadame Mara took leave of me on her return to the Continent," says Dr. Kitchener, "I could not help expressing my regret that she had not taken my ad- 120 QUEENS OF SONG. vice to publish those songs of Handel (her matchless perform- ance of which gained her that undisputed pre-eminence which she enjoyed), with the embellishments, etc., with which she en- riched them. This inimitable singer replied, ' Indeed, my good friend, you attribute my success to a very diiferent source than the real one. It was not what I did, but the manner in which I did it. I could sing six simple notes and j^roduce every ef- fect I could wish ; another singer may sing those very same notes with very different effect. I am sure it was to my ex- pression of the words that I owe every thing. People have often said to me, "Madame Mara, why do not you introduce more jDretty things, and passages, and graces in your singing ?" I say, " These pretty things are very pretty, to be sure, but the proper expression of the words and the music is a great deal better." ' This and her extraordinary industry were the se- crets of her undisputed sovereignty. She told me that when she was encored in a song, which she very often was, that on her return home she seldom retired to rest without first in- venting a new cadence for the next performance of it. Here is an example for young singers!" -^.~— Madame Mara went to Paris, whence she proceeded the fol- lowing year to Dresden, where she immediately became the object of universal enthusiasm, gaining her first plaudits by the irreproachable manner in which she performed the part of Agrippina, in the opera of J^riiannico, by Graun. Unbound- ed admiration was excited by the style in which she sang be- hind the scenes the aria "Mi paventi il figlio indegno," "with a voice of tremendous power, and yet w^ith a maternal pathos that," Zelter affirms, " forced bitter tears from my eyes every time I heard her. The piece," he adds, "is a regular bravura air, such as was the fashion in those days : it was as if a thou- sand nightingales were straining their throats to warble for revenge." Her acting was fine, though connoisseurs some- times censured her for Avant of" action" in passionate parts — hypercriticism which made her indignant. " What !" she would exclaim, " am I to sing with my hands and legs ? I am a singer ; what I can not do with my voice I Avill not do at all." Zelter, however, says that in tragic parts she seemed to rise a head taller than usual. "I never beheld any thing grander than her Queen Rodelinda," he declares emphatically. She was determined at any sacrifice to preserve her dignity \ GERTEUDE ELIZABETH MAKA. 121 as a Queen of Song, and having offered to sing for the enter- tainment of the elector, when told that his highness generally ■was pleased to have the musical performance during dinner, she replied, haughtily, that it would bo impossible for her to sing while others were eating ; so she lost a hundred ducats, and the elector an aria. The good people of Rheinsberg compassionated the cruel situation in which she was placed by the misconduct of her husband, who had, by his extravagance, dragged her into debt, and they abused the prince's favorite in no measured terms. He had not the slightest regard for any body, and treated even his patron in a manner so insulting that it is surprising he was permitted to retain his position. " The prince being then at Berlin with his suite," Zelter tells us, " and eclipsing with his entertainments the royal redoutes, invited the court to hear the incomparable Mara perform. All came but the king and one other, who was also missed, namely, Mara himself. At last they dragged him in. He was drunk, and refused before the whole court, in spite of his patron, to jilay, so that the prince could not but feel himself publicly compromised. The king regarded the insult as a species of high treason against his consort, who was present, and this was considered to be the cause of his severity on the occasion of Mara's first deser- tion." He was connected with a gang of smugglers, who held their meetings in the fine residence of Rheinsberg, near the frontier of Mecklenburg. The king, who was continually ex- asperated by the audacious impudence of the reckless violon- cellist, tried in vain to break him in, and once his irate majesty condemned Jean Mara to sleep in the guard-house, on hard boards, during the Carnival, the common soldiers being li- censed to play the roughest tricks with him. Reichardt, as a patronizing Capell-meister, Avrote a long account of the hard- ships to which the unfortunate wretch was subjected, and dis- patched it to the king. " Humph !" said liis majesty, reading the letter, and taking a handful of snuff, "I thought I should have thrown the trouble of the Opera off my shoulders, and now I have the old plague again, with the addition of one fool more into the bargain." In 1801 Jean Mara was at Sondershausen, where, strange to say, he conducted himself very sedately, never betraying the least sign of that inclination to intemperance which was the F 122 QUEE:srs of song. bane of his life. He was then in the greatest distress, although his wife supplied him from time to time with considerable sums of money and various presents ; but his respectable conduct did not last very long. "About this time," says Gerber, "he went to Plollaud, where he indulged to such a degree his fatal inclination to drunkenness, that, after having lost every feeling of propriety, he was seen day and night in the lowest pot- houses, playing the fiddle for sailors to dance." Nobody could imagine why EHzabeth Mara would not con- sent to give up her debauched, depraved husband altogether. She regarded him with admiration and affection in spite of his vices ; and once, on Zelter expressing to her his surprise at the generosity of her conduct toward the unprincipled ruffian who held her in legal slavery, she replied, with a mixture of naivete and loving tenderness, "But you must allow that he is the handsomest man ever seen !" At last she was freed by death, in the summer of 1 808. Jean Mara closed his existence in the company of his disreputable smuggling associates, dying at Schiedam, near Rotterdam. Four years before her husband's death Madame Mara went to St. Petersburg, where she enjoyed the patronage of the royal family, and sang at the Opera and at public concerts. From St. Petersburg she repaired, in 1806, to Moscow, where she was so well received that she resolved to settle there, and pur- chased property two years jDrevious to the death of her hus- band. On finding herself at liberty, she married a flute-player named Florio. She remained at Moscow till the burning of that capital, when she lost much of her possessions. This re- verse of fortune compelled her to go to Revel, where she sup- ported herself by giving lessons in music. j Early in the winter of 1820 she came through Berlin to Lon- don, the scene of her greatest triumphs. No one was at all aware of her return, or, indeed, even of her existence, and her reappearance was totally unlooked-for, but she was foolish j enough to determine on giving a public concert at the King's / Theatre. She was now in her seventy-second year; her pow- / ers had failed her, and her youthful attractions vanished, though ; she would not admit this herself. That she had some doubts/ of her powers, however, was evidenced by her refusal to open/ her mouth at the rehearsal of her concert. It was to be anticj- ipated altogether that the concert announced by the Messrsl GEKTEUDE ELIZABETH MAP.A. 123 Knyvett, at wliicli was to appear " a most celebrated singer, whom they were not yet at liberty to name," would prove a failure. Curiosity, however, drew a scanty audience ; there were some persons of note in the boxes, and a good many con- noisseurs collected in the pit. Two or three glees were sung by Miss Travis, the Knyvetts, Sale, etc., a fine aria of Storace's was given by Braham, and a concerto played by F. Cramer, who led the band ; the concert being conducted by Mr. Great- orex. At the very moment of the most impatient expectation, when the cantatrice ought to have appeared and made her courtesy, Mr. Bellamy came forward to apologize for Madame Mara, Avho was, he said, laboring under a severe cold and hoarseness ; but, rather than postpone her concert (the night had already been changed), she had determined to use her best endeavors, for which he solicited the indulgence of the audience. Madame Mara herself then came forward, animated and smil- ing. She sang an air of Guglielmi's, Handel's "What though I trace," and a cavatina by Paer, " Quale smania in alma io sento ?" People looked at each other when she began. Her tones were, it is true, less feeble, less tremulous, less attenuated than might have been supposed ; but the swelling, thrilling voice which had once flooded Westminster Abbey with the glorious music of Handel could not be traced in this strange piping. The matchless organ, which, it had been declared, was miraculously preserved — the resistless energy and force which had erst held thousands in breathless attention—" the majesty and fervor that kept almost equal pace with the sub- lime sentences of Holy Writ"— all the exquisite qualifications of the Mara were passed aw^ay forever. Even her graces and ornaments, once so chaste, so scientific, Avcre now absurd and tasteless ; and in the middle of "What though I trace," she in- troduced a roulade of three ascending and five descending notes upon the monosyllabic Z, which was characterized as be- ing at once vulgar and impertinent. After this, the attention of the audience was "scarcely respectful." "It was truly grievous," says Kelly, "to see such transcendent talents as she once possessed so sunk — so fallen. I used every effort in my power to prevent her committing herself, but in vain." The result of this unlucky experiment was that Messrs. Kny- vett relinquished her services, and in 1821 poor Madame Mara 124 QUEENS OF SONG. turned her steps to lier native land ; and npon her arrival at Cassel, the first thing she asked for Avas " poor Der Trusel- gasse." The landlord of the inn was surprised to hear a lady who had dashed up in a handsome traveling equipage inquire for a mean street, but the lady's waiting-maid pronounced the magic name of Mara, and the mystery was explained. Ma- dame Mara immediately sought the place of her birth, and in- dulged in the feelings the scene evoked. "Yes," she exclaimed, on returning, " I have seen our old habitation. I feel I am still a true Casselanarin." From Cassel — where she was treated with much respect by the highest inhabitants of the town, and also with flattering at- tention by the elector — she again went to Esthouia, where she prudently subsided into a pleasant gossiping old music-mis- tress. Her manner was as lively and her conversation as agree- able as of yore, and doubtless she ascribed the bad taste of the English public to the innovations modern flippancy had made on the good old style. The most difficult thing in the world, perhaps, is to believe that one has outgrown one's youth ; and those who hold the theory that impossibility is a myth of the imagination, have certainly never entered on the amiable task of trying to convince a faded queen of beauty or of song that it is her own fault or misfortune that she no longer attracts. Madame Mara celebrated her eighty-third birthday on the 23d of February, 1831, on which auspicious occasion the great poet Goethe oftered her a poetical tribute. The latter part of her life was passed at Revel, Avhere she died in January, 1833. ANNA MAEIA CEOUCH. 125 CHAPTER XI. ANNA MARIA CEOUCH. Peeegeine Phillips was descended from tlie younger branch of a resjDcctable and ancient Welsh family, the elder branch of which was graced by a long line of baronets, the last of whom was created a peer of Ireland in 1770. His early life was un- happy, and he several times quitted his home to travel to vari- ous parts of the world, residing for some time in North Amer. ica. On returning finally to England, he married a Miss Gas- coyne, the daughter of a wealthy farmer in "Worcestershire ; he was then an attorney at law, held in much esteem. Six children were born to the couple: Mary Anne, Peregrine, Henrietta, Anna Maria, Sophia, and Edward Erasmus, who died in his infancy. Anna Maria, through whose talents the family was after- ward to become eminent, was born on the 20th of April, 1763, in Gray's Inn Lane. From her earliest childhood, hei- beauti- ful voice attracted universal attention and admiration. Her father being the professional adviser of Sir Watkin Lewes, the child was introduced to that gentleman's Avife, who patronized her, and frequently invited her to her house. Of a singularly affectionate and unselfish nature, little Nancy often felt uncom- fortable at the idea of being thus petted and praised, while her sisters were left at home unnoticed, though they never evinced the slightest jealousy. Sometimes, with tears trembling in her soft eyes, she would say pathetically, " I should be very happy if my sisters were going with me ; but nobody can tell how I grieve at leaving them at home. Mary Anne, who is old enough to be my mamma's companion, ma}^ not, perhaps, mind it so much ; but poor Henrietta, who is so near my own age, and who is my playfellow also, she, I am sure, must feel very sorry. Well, when I have any power of my own, my sisters shall know how I love them, for they shall sLare in all my pleasui'es." The cakes, sweetmeats, or any other treasures or dainties which she received, were all carefully preserved for 126 QUEENS OF SONG. her two beloved elder sisters whom she was obliged to leave at home. She was instructed in music, at a very tender age, by Mr. Wafer, organist of Berwick Street Chapel, by whose tuition she profited so well that at ten she could sing "The Soldier tired," and accompany herself on the piano-forte with precision and effect. Many of Nancy's early days were spent with a good little old man and his widowed sister, who partly trained her. The little girl was very assidnous, though exceedingly diffident. Being requested on one occasion to sing for an old friend, an officer who had just returned from abroad, she in- stantly commenced, " See the conquering hero comes !" and gave the words uncommon expression ; but before she finished the song her fingers trembled, her voice faltered, and she fell back fainting, overpowered by her feelings, although she was under eleven years of age at the time. Anna w^as still a child when Mrs. Phillips died, leaving her husband in charge of three very young daughters. A lucra- tive place in the Wine License Office, added to the emoluments of his profession, rendered Mr. Phillips able to support himself and family in a comfortable manner. Mary Anne was just married to a Mr. Scadgell, a builder, and Peregrine was ap- prenticed to a seal engraver. Anna Maria was placed with her aunt, Mrs. Le Clerc, a prudent and sensible woman, living in Prince's Street, Cavendish Square, who had entered into partnership with a trimming-maker, and Nancy, of course, as- sisted her aunt in the business, which was quiet and sedentary. While with her aunt, two ladies became acquainted with her, and, taking a fancy to her, invited her on a visit ; she was six- teen, lively, lovely, and lovable, and a naval captain in his majesty's service made her an ofier of his hand and heart, but, as he was considerably older than herself, the young girl de- clined it. / Her father did not lose sight of the advantages which might be derived from the proper cultivation of her voice, and, being fond of the stage, he decided to train h-is daughter as a vocal- ist, and articled her, in 1779, to Mr. Linley, the joint patentee of Drury Lane Tlieatre, for three years. She regarded this "dark, stern, gigantic" teacher with very different feelings from the love she had cherished toward Mr. Wafer, who, she said, was " of fairy race, light complexion, and of meek appear- ANNA MAKIA CROUCH. 127 ance." Indeed, she confesses, " I trembled sometimes when I looked at him, for I actually believed that my poor dear little old master might go into the sleeve of Mr. Linley's great-coat." At the expiration of her term of three years the young stu- dent was considered qualified to appear in the arduous part of Mandane in Artaxerxes, although she had not yet completed her seventeenth year. She made her debut in the winter of 1780 at Drury Lane, and was received by a fashionable and crowded audience with flattering applause. Her powers were greatly checked by her excessive timidity, but the public were indulgent, and rather liked her modest diflidence ; her youth, her beauty, and her voice pleaded effectually for the candidate. "I remember distinctly the surprise which her beauty excited," says Boaden, in his Ilemoirs of Mrs. Siddons. " She was al- ways timid upon the stage, and really needed all the indulgence which she experienced ; but she was infinitely promising of musical excellence ; and as to countenance and figure, she real- ized the visions of even poetical imagination. He wlio came from the study of Spenser's Una beheld the seeming origin of such a portrait in Miss Phillips." For the sake of effect, Miss Prudom, who made her debut the same evening, took the part of Arbaccs, in which she acquitted herself very well, consider- ing that she spoke English very badly. The beautiful JMrs. Baddeley was the royal Artaxerxes, and Miss Wright, after- ward Mrs. Blanchard, was the Semira. "The evening," ob- serves Boaden, enthusiastically, " seemed the triumph of beau- ty even more than that of harmony." Mr. Vernon was Arta- banes, and Mr. Dubellamy, Rimenes. Being now placed in a more independent position, the young singer took the upper part of a genteel private house in Drury Lane, which was furnished by her father, who came to reside with her. She also requested her aunt, Mrs. Le Clerc, to live with her, as that lady's business was going greatly out of fixsh- ion. Her next character was Clarissa, which she performed for her own benefit, and at the termination of the Drury Lane season she was engaged as first singer at the Theatre Royal, Liverpool, where she appeared as Polly. From Liverpool she returned to Drury Lane, when she appeared as the Goddess of Beauty, in the masque o^ King Arthur, which was got up in a superb style. Miss Romanzini, afterward Mrs. Bland, was 128 QUEENS OF SONG. the Cupid to her Venus ; Mr. Smith played King Arthur, and Miss Farren made a most interesting Emmeline. She was again engaged in 1782 at Livei-pool. Her reputation was now firmly established, and Mr. Daly, manager of the Theatre Royal in Smock Alley, Dublin, having heard of the fame of the lovely Miss Phillips, oflered her an engagement in the summer of 1783. She acceiDted it, and went with her father to Ireland at the close of the London season. Dr. Johnson, desirous of be- friending her, gave the beautiful young prima donna a some- what original letter of introduction, couched in terms scarcely flattering to his charming friend : ^ "London, May 31, 1783. " Sm, — The bringer of this letter is the father of Miss Phil- lijjs, a singer, who comes to try her voice on the stage at Dublin. " Mr. Phillips is one of my oldest friends, and as I am of opinion that neither he nor his daughter will do any thing to disgrace their benefactors, I take the liberty of entreating you to countenance and protect them, so far as may be suitable to your station and character, and shall consider myself obliged by any favorable notice which they shall have the honor of re- ceiving from you. I am, sir, your humble servant, " Sam. Johnson. " To the Kiglit Hon. William Wyndham.'» In Ireland the young vocalist met with John Kemble, who had appeared the preceding February, and who was then en- gaged with his sister, the glorious Siddons, in the Emerald Isle. They were mutually pleased to become acquainted, and contracted a fiiendship which gave rise to a report that they were engaged to be married — a rumor which gained color from a circumstance which happened, when they both went shortly after to perform at Limerick with Mrs. Siddons. Miss Phil- lips performed on alternate nights Avith the tragedian and his sister ; and as the lovely English songstress was beyond meas- ure popular, and the theme of universal conversation in the city, she was, of course, the cynosure of the young men. One evening, on the conclusion of the piece, Xove in a Village, some officers of a militia regiment quartered in Limerick, being flush- ed with wine, declared their intention of escorting the beauti- ful Rosetta home, and rushing behind the scenes, terrified the ANXA MARIA CROUCH. 129 young prima donna by their loud tones and tipsy gallantries. She ran into her dressing-room and locked the door, " which these heroes swore they would break ojjen without ceremony." Her father, who was laid up with gout, having requested Mr. Kemble to see his daughter home, the tragedian, hearing the uproar and ascertaining its cause, hurried to the scene of ac- tion, and politely requested the officers to withdraw. They declined to com2:»ly, and vehemently reiterated their intention of not quitting the theatre without Miss Phillips. Kemble drew his sword, and said that, having been deputed by the lady's father to see her safely home, he should execute his com- mission at the hazard of his life. He then requested Miss Phil- lips to open the door of her dressing-room, promising that she should not be molested ; and the agitated girl issued forth, but at the sight of the brawlers was about to retreat precipitately. "Be under no apprehension," said Kemble, audibly; "I am resolved to protect you. If any gentleman is dissatisfied with my conduct, I will meet him, if he pleases, to-morrow morning ; if he can prove it to be wrong, I shall be ready to apologize for it." Then, offering his arm to his trembling charge, he led her in safety to her chair. The following morning. Lord Muskerry, the colonel of the regiment, called upon the tragedian, and told him that every apology he might demand should be made by the offenders. Kemble referred him to Miss Phillips, Avho was, he said, the really insulted person. Miss Phillips, however, told the com- manding officer, with her usual naivete, that " she would have no apology ; all that she required was that the gentlemen in future would go from the theatre with the rest of the audience, and leave her to return home quietly with her father, or with the person whom he might appoint to conduct her." This in- cident was ever gratefully remembered by Miss Phillips, who never mentioned it without expressions of admiration of the spirit and perfect command of temper displayed by Kemble. The next year she again went to Dublin, and was received with renewed favor. While there she had many admirers, one of whom, to prove the fervor of his attachment, threatened to shoot her if she declined his suit, saying he would go into the theatre for the purpose. On the next night she peeped through the interstices of the curtain to see if he was prepared to cari-y his threat into execution, and seeing him seated in the second 9 F 2 130 QUEENS OF SONG. row of tlie pit, she did not for a moment douLt that Le intend- ed to keep his resohuion, and in terror flew to procure some one to remove him from the house. Pie was t:iken into cus- tody, but no weapons being found upon him, he was liberated ; his friends subsequently persuaded him to leave the country. Among those admirers who adopted more persuasive meas- ures to win her favor Avas a young Irish nobleman, who in- duced her to elope with him. They fled ; but an insuperable obstacle to their legal union unexpectedly presented itself. The youthful lord Avas a minor, and so well known that he could not prevail on any priest in Ireland to perform the mar- riage ceremony. In despair at this unlooked-for impediment, they set out for Scotland with all possible celerity ; but their mutual friends had set out in pursuit, and came on them just as they were waiting for the wind to change, that they might sail. The lovers were immediately severed, never to meet again, and Miss Phillips was obliged unAvillingly to return to her theatrical duties. Her first appearance at Drury Lane after this most untoward adventure was as Emily in the Double Disguise, in which Mrs. Wrighton had, as an Irish chamber- maid, to sing to her a song, one verse of which ran thus : " Each pretty young miss, with a long heavy purse, Is courted, and flattered, and easily had ; She longs to be taken for better, for worse» And quickly dopes with an Irish lad." These lines she sang with such a malicious archness, that the audience, quickly applying them, were in convulsions of laugh- ter, and the song was vociferously encored. The situation in which Miss Phillips found herself became almost insupporta- ble : confused, blushing, and scarcely able to stand, she Avas forced to retain her place while the lines were repeated. Some months afterward, the fascinating Anna Maria noticed one evening in the stage-box a very handsome man, Avho con- stantly kept his eyes fixed on her Avith such open admiration that his feelings could not be mistaken. This was Mr. Crouch, a lieutenant in his majesty's navy, who had become deeply smitten Avith the captivating singer. He obtained an intro- duction to her, declared his passion, and pressed his suit with such ardor that before the February of 1785 they were mar- ried. For family reasons, the marriage was kept secret some time from all but the bride's relations. The match was cer- ANNA MAKIA CROUCH. 131 tainly not altogether a prudent or a brilliant one, for the gen- tleman had, besides his pay, nothing but " expectations" to look forward to, while the bride had several drains on her liberal salary : she was obliged to provide for her father, Avho was subject to frequent and expensive illnesses; for her aunt, whoi had been disabled by a terrible fall down stairs ; for her young-[ est sister Sophia, whom she had just apprenticed to a fashion- able milliner in Jermyn Street, and partially for her brother,! who Avas an artist. Mrs. Crouch continued to perform in herj maiden name for the remainder of the season, when an accident ' happened which almost proved fatal. At the latter end of the season she had one morning attended rehearsal, and turning round hastily when at the top of a flight of steps, she missed her footing and fell to the ground. She suffered agony all day, but generously resolved, if possible, to sing at night, fearing to cause loss and disappointment to the friend for whose benefit she was to appear. After the performance she got home to her lodgings in Charles Street, St. James's Square, suffering acutely, and at an early hour the next morning she was pre- maturely delivered of a little girl, who lived only two days. For weeks her life was in danger, and her death was often an- nounced : grief for the loss of her infant jsreyed greatly upon her mind. On her recovery Mr. Crouch took apartments in Rathbone Place, and her engagement at Drury Lane was renewed in her married name. She was greeted with the warmest sympathy on her reappearance, and again became the favorite of the pub- lic, though on the advent of Mrs. Billiugtou in 1786, she was compelled to yield the position of first singer to that wonder- ful vocalist. Soon after this she had the satisfaction of seeing her young sister Sophia, then fifteen, married to Mr. Ilorrebow, a wealthy Dane, captain of a Danish East Indiamau. That summer Mrs. Crouch was engaged at Liverpool, and at the close of the winter theatres set out, accompanied by her hus- band. On her return to town she was introduced to Michael Kel- ly, who had just appeared at Drury Lane, and from his long absence had nearly forgotten his native language ; Mrs. Crouch, taking a fancy to him, good-naturedly bestowed much pains in recalling it to his memory, a kindness which he repaid by in- structing hqr in music. Mrs. Crouch proposed to her husband 132 QUEENS OF SONG. that Kelly, a stranger in London, should reside with them, a proposal Avhich the young musician on his part gladly accept- ed, and they accordingly took a house in Titchfield Street. Lionel was the first character in which Kelly appeared, Mrs. Crouch being the Clarissa. Kelly had imparted new graces to her singing, and she had taught him to give proper emphasis to the dialogue, so that when they appeared together they played and sang with such spirit and judgment that the audi- ence applauded them " to the echo." Scarcely three years from the date of her first accident she met with another which likewise threatened to be fatal. At the end of January, 1*788, she was going to rehearsal one morn- ing in a hackney-coach, when the vehicle suddenly overturned, and her face was dreadfully cut by the broken glass ; for, hav- ing her sister Sophia's little boy in her arms, she flung herself between him and the window. She was carried to a house near, and a surgeon sent for, who assured her that there was no glass in the wounds, and was going to bind them up. The torture she felt convinced her that he was deceived, and she sent for Mr. Cruikshanks, her own surgeon, who extracted many pieces of glass. It was long before she was sufficiently recovered to present herself on the stage : slight scars always remained, materially injuring the delicacy of her face. In 1788-9 Mr. Kemble produced Macbeth^ with the music of Matthew Lock. Mrs. Crouch was one of the witches, and cre- ated great dissatisfaction by appearing in " a fancy hat, pow- dered hair, rouge, point lace, and fine linen." The summer approaching, Mrs. Crouch went to Ireland with her husband and Kelly. She was so grateful for his tuition that she would now never consent to accept engagements unless he also was engaged. " I will never sing in any theatre without him," she frequently declared. In the course of a sojourn at Margate in 1V90, Mrs. Crouch had an opportunity of indulging the native benevolence of her heart. A poor girl, an inhabitant of the place, being deprived of the use of her limbs, was reduced to the utmost distress. Mr. Phillips, who was living at St. Peter's, drew up a petition to the inhabitants and visitors, by which he gained a consid- erable sura, and some persons of rank undertook to obtain sub- scriptions. They came to Mrs. Crouch and Kelly, who thought their best donation would be to play a night at tlie theatre for ANNA MARIA CKOUCH. 133 the girl's benefit. The piece finnounced was the Beggar''s Op- era, Mrs. Crouch as Polly, and Kelly as Macheath. Every place in the house was taken ; the whole pit, one row except- ed, was railed into boxes ; and the receipts of that night, with many liberal presents sent to the poor girl, were sufficient to procure her a comfortable subsistence for life. From Margate Mrs. Crouch went with a party to Paris, where she staid three weeks, attending the theatre every night. Pier first visit to the Grand Opera might have had un- pleasant results. She sat in a conspicuous part of the house, and noticed that the eyes of every one were directed toward her box ; the audience whispering and frowning, and looking from her to each other with every token of displeasure. She was inexpressibly annoyed and perjjlexed, until a gentleman who sat near explained the cause : she wore a white rose in her hair, and white was the Royalist color! "She was oa thorns until she quitted the house," says Kelly, relating the in- cident, " but met with no insult." On the 1st of January, 1791, the opera of the Siege of Bel- grade was brought out with great success at Drury Lane, Mrs. Crouch performing Catharine, and Kelly the Seraskier. A few months after this, Mr. and Mrs. Crouch, who had not lived happily together, agreed to sej)arate, and she consented to allow her husband a portion of her professional emoluments, which he was mean enough to take. Kelly still continued to board with Mrs. Crouch, and tliey gave delighful musical par- ties at their house in Pall Mall, where the talents of Mrs. Bil- lington, Madame Mara, Mrs. Bland, Signora Storace, Jack John- son, and other vocalists, enhanced the attractions of these re- unions, which were patronized by the Prince of Wales. At these meetings Mrs. Crouch would preside, arrayed in the cos- tume which she had worn at the theatre ; a fancy which was carried off so coquettishly by her wit, grace, and beauty, that it was irresistibly charming. The first personages of the day Avere to be met here ; and sometimes Sheridan would arrive from a late debate, and sparkle in the saloon with his care- fully-prepared impromptus. "Points of management were often settled in five minutes at such a rencounter with Sheri- dan that he could not be brought to decide by all the morning solicitations of the parties who besieged his dwelling-house." Kemble, and his brother Stephen too, would frequently be 134 QUEENS OF S0:N"G. found in company with the numerous celebrities who cluster- ed round the lovely vocalist. On their way to Ireland in 1V93, Mrs. Crouch and Kelly en- countered a terrific storm, and an alarm was spread that they had been cast ashore lifeless ; but Mr. Phillips received a letter from his daughter dated the day after that on which the jDa- pers alleged she had been found dead. Anxious friends throng- ed daily to Sufiblk Street to inquire into the truth of the report, and when they reappeared in London the pair were welcomed with uproarious delight and congratulation. Upon the 19th of June, the next year, the splendid musical spectacle o^ LodoisJca was produced. It was translated from tho French by John Kemble, and the music selected by Storace from the works of Cherubini and Kreutzer, and enriched with some charming melodies of his own composition. The mise en sc^ne was " picturesquely grand and beautiful," the dresses gorgeous, and every detail perfect. Kemble, who was part proprietor of the theatre at the time, took the utmost care in getting up the piece, and was rewarded by the rapturous re- ception it met with. Mrs. Crouch was the Princess Lodoiska, Kelly personated Floreski, and the two Bannisters, Barrymore, Charles Kemble, Dignura, Sedgwick, Aikin, and Palmer, also performed in the spectacle. The last scene was heightened by an imexpected and fine efiect from an accident which hap- pened to Mrs. Crouch. When she was in the blazing castle, the wind blew the flames close to her; but she had suflUcient fortitude and presence of mind not to move from her j^ainful situation, although she remained at the hazard of her life. Kelly, seeing her danger, ran up the bridge, which was at a great height from the ground, toward the tower to rescue her, wlien, just as he was quitting the platform, a carpenter pre- maturely pulled away one of its supports. "Down I fell," says Kelly, " and at the same moment the fiery tower, in which was Mrs. Crouch, sank down in a blaze, with a violent crash. She uttered a scream of terror. Providentially I was not hurt by the fall ; and, catching her in my arms, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I carried her to the front of the stage, a con- siderable distance from the place where we fell. The applause was loud and continued ; in fact, had we rehearsed the scene as it happened, it could not have been done half so naturally or produced half so great an efiect. I always carried her to ' ANNA MAEIA CROUCH. 135 the front of the stage in a similar manner, and it never failed to produce great applause. Such are at times the eifects of accident." At the close of this season a second mishap of an even more alarming nature befell Mrs. Crouch. She was traveling, in order to fulfill some country engagement, when her carriage overturned, and a weighty dressing-case, containing all her stage ornaments and other theatrical property, fell on her throat and nearly choked her. This accident severely injured her voice ; for, although the most eminent of the faculty were consulted, and various means tried to restore its clearness and strength, it never regained its former beauty. Henceforth she was obliged to take songs lower, and found her voice in speak- ino- seriously weakened. Nor did this misfortune come alone: her father was at this time confined to his bed with gout ; her aunt was in a state of mental derangement ; and her eldest sister, Mrs. Scadgell, was in a deep decline. Yet her cheerful- ness enabled her to bear up against these troubles, and to pre- side with apparent ease and tranquillity at a table adorned al- most nightly by the first and most brilliant characters of the age. Mrs. Scadgell died in 179G, leaving a son and a daughter in the care of Mrs. Crouch, who adopted and advanced them. Some short time after this, Mrs. Crouch performed, as one of the Priestesses of the Sun, in Sheridan's Pi?xirro^ a play so popular that on the first night the pit was nearly filled by those who had paid box prices, and scrambled over to it from the suffocating lower boxes ; many windows were broken to give air to the almost stifled throng in the passages ; and one of the door-keepers had his ribs broken in endeavoring to restrain the impatience of the crowd. Late as the play came out, it ran thirty-one nights. The last new piece in which Mrs. Crouch appeared after Pizarro was the Pavilion, which was played only two nights. Mrs. Crouch was at this time en- gaged jointly with Kelly in the tuition of his pupils, who were instructed in deportment, acting, and elocution. Among them was a young girl named Griffiths, the daughter of the stage- door keeper in the Edinburgh Theatre. She was so struck with the performance of Mrs. Crouch, that, shortly after that lady had quitted the city, she, without giving any intimation of her project to her father, set out from Edinburgh and walk- ed to London, where she sought out Mrs. Crouch, and entreat- 136. QUEENS OF SONG. ed her to teach her to sing. Finding that the girl had a sweet voice, an accurate ear, and a great deal of intelligence, the kind-hearted prima donna took her under her tuition and pat- ronage, and bestowed the utmost care on her instruction. The girl profited by the trouble expended on her, and made a decided "hit" as Polly and Clarissa, performing with Kelly, who took a strong interest in her. In 1799 Mrs. Crouch and Kelly accepted an engagement at the Plymouth Theatre from Mr. Foote, father of tlie love- ly Miss Foote, of Covent Garden Theatre. The house was crowded every night by admiring auditors. One night, in iVb Song no tSiq?2^er, Mrs. Crouch, who acted Margaretta, intro- duced a pretty ballad, composed by Dr. Arnold for Miss Leak, entitled " Poor little Gipsy." It was every where a favorite, and she sang it ex(][uisitely. A jolly tar in the pit listened with rapt attention, and when she came to the line " Spare a poor little gipsy a halfpenny," Jack hallooed, " That I will, my darling," and suited the action to the word by throwing a shilling on the stage. Mrs. Crouch withdrew from the stage in 1801 ; but she oc- casionally exercised her skill in musical composition, and in sketching subjects for musical dramas. Her house adjoined the theatre, and she had a door of communication to her box, but she scarcely ever attended unless a new piece or a new performer interested her. She occupied much of her time and attention with the children of her sister Sophia, one of whom, Harry Horrebow, had appeared with credit on the stage. Her charms were now almost entirely faded, but this gave her no pangs of mortified vanity. " Oh," she would playfully remark, " I am not one of those ladies whose looking-glasses can never persuade them they are getting into years." And she would laughingly add, that, on reflection, she was " too old for char- acters of five-and-twenty." Just before she left the stage she lost her father, who died in April, 1801, aged seventy-two ; and soon her own health be- gan to fail. It was susi^ected that the overturning of her coach had produced some internal derangement, which even- tually proved fatal. The sea air temporarily restored her, but she gradually sank under the efiects of a painful disease. She expired on the 2d of October, 1805, in the forty-second year of her age. The injured wife had always spoken with ANNA MARIA CEOUCH. 137 the utmost kindness of Mv. Crouch. " I sinqerely forgive the whole conduct of Mr. Crouch to myself," she often said ; " he is older now, and I hope is sufficiently sensible of his errors to abjure them, and render the present object of his choice, who I hear is a deserving woman, far happier than he did me ; and they may rest assured that I will never take the least step to interrupt their felicity." And to the last she continued to speak kindly of him, and never was heard to betray the slight- est vindictive feeling. Just before her death she expressed a wish to be interred in Brighton church-yard, saying that as it pleased God she should die at Brighton, she might be buried there : that " as the tree falls, there let it lie." Michael Kelly placed a handsome monument, with a suitable inscription, over her grave. No one mourned the loss of the beautiful, amiable, and talented Anna Maria Crouch more than her faithful friend and comrade, Michael Kelly. In the course oHns Reminiscences, ho has given many tributes of admiration to that sweetness of nature which made her beloved in private life, and to her talents, which gained for her the enthusiastic plaudits of the most fastidious critics. 138 QUEENS OF SONG. CHAPTER XII. ANNA SELINA STOEACE. Nancy Storage — ^her name was properly Anna Selina, but every body called her Nancy — was, like many of our great fe- male singers, born in a " musical clique." Her father was a Neapolitan named Storace, and a good performer on the double basi ; he had settled in London, where he played for many years at the Opera House, when it was led by Felice Giardini. He married one of the Miss Truslers, of Bath, " celebrated for making a peculiar sort of cake," Kelly tells us, " and sister to Dr. Trusler, well known in the literary world as a chronolo- gist." In partnership with Dr. Arnold and Lowe the singer, Stor- ace opened Marylebone Gardens in 1769, for the performance of burlettas and other entertainments. There he produced, in nil, a musical piece called the Coquet, and a translation of La Serva Padrona. The speculation succeeded for a time, owing to the attractions of the music and Mrs. Storace's plum- cakes ; but, after a while, the directors began to squabble, and were obliged to give uj) their enterprise, with loss. Nancy, the only daughter, was born in 1V65. Lively and imitative, she displayed unusual talent at a very tender age, and at eight she could play and sing at sight. Her brother Stephen, who was just two years her senior, was even more clever, for he had a universal genius. " He was the most gift- ed creature I ever met with : an enthusiast and a genius," says Kelly; but he especially excelled in music and in painting. While Stephen and Nancy were little children, Sheridan came to lodge with their father in the winter of 1772, bringing his fair young bride. Miss Linley, from Bath, and, being doubt- less introduced through the Truslers, commenced a friendship which always remained firm. Sheridan was delighted with the bright, clever boy, and declared afterward that if he had been bred to the law he would indubitably have ai'rived at the dignity of lord chancellor. But as Stephen's father had more ANNA SELINA STOEACE. 139 influeuce in the musical tban in the legal world, he detevmined to educate the boy in his own profession, and sent him to the Conservatorio St. Onofrio at Naples. Nancy, evincing a decided taste for music, was trained as a singer, and had the good fortune to obtain the instruction of Rauzzini and Sacchini. She made such rapid progress under the care of these eminent masters that papa took her to Na- ples, where she sang at some of the oratorios given at the San Carlo during Lent. She was very well liked, and being now fifteen, it was decided that she should formally " come out." She had already sung as a juvenile performer at the meeting in Hereford in IV 77, with her first master, Rauzzini. They took her accordingly, about 1780, to Florence, where the famous Marchesi was engaged at the Pergola Theatre, and Nancy was engaged as " second woman" in the Opera. She had not, apparently, all the qualities necessary to insure suc- cess to a female singer: there was an unpleasant "harshness" in her countenance, though her physiognomy was striking when lighted up by lively emotions ; her figure was clumsy, her manner totally imfitted for serious opera, and there was a certain coarseness in her voice. Her natural style was, there- fore, necessarily the comic, for which she had an innate humor ; and she was an excellent actress, though her musical science was such that she could sing any kind of music. Marchesi did not much like her, perhaps because she was not pretty ; and soon they came to open warfare. It ha2:)pen- ed that Bianchi had composed for Marchesi the celebrated cav- atina, " Sembianza amabile del mio bel sole." Marchesi sang this with exquisite taste, and in one of the passages he ran up a flight of semitone octaves, giving the last note with such tremendous power, that it became famous under the title of "La bomba di Marchesi." Immediately after he sang this in the opera, Signora Storace had to sing an air of a similar char- acter, and, fired with emulation, she took it into her head that she would throw out " a bomba," and she executed her song with a brilliancy which amazed and enraptured the audience. Poor Marchesi was furious at being eclipsed, and indignant at any body attempting even to rival him, more particularly the " second woman ;" and Campigli, the impresario, requested her to discontinue the air. She peremptorily refused. "I have as good a right to show the power of my bomba as any body 140 QUEENS OF SONG. else," was her reply. Marches! declared that if she did not quit the theatre, he would ; and the manager, fearing to lose a singer of celebrity like Marchesi, sided with the imperious sig- nor ; so poor Nancy was dismissed. From Florence Nancy went, accompanied by her mother and brother, to Lucca, and thence to Leghorn, where she had scarcely arrived when she made an acquaintance which was destined to exercise some influence on her future life. She was standing with her brother on the Mole, at eight o'clock in the morning, when there approached a figure " slender as a walking-stick," attired in a Sicilian capote, with a quantity of fair hair floating over the shoulders, a face so delicately fair, and an appearance so peculiarly youthful, that the ptrsonage, whoever it might be, was evidently a girl dressed in boy's clothes. As the slim form stej^ped lightly from the boat to the landing-place, Nancy and her brother began to laugh and make jocose remarks in English upon the supposed girl. They were very much disconcerted when, addressing Nancy in the same language, the wearer of the Sicilian capote and the flow- ing tresses said, " You are mistaken, miss. I am a very prop- er he animal, and quite at your service." A ringing burst of laughter followed this speech ; all thre,e laughed till they were tired, and ultimately became fast friends. Stephen asked the stranger's name : it was Michael Kelly, who was coming in search of bis first engagement, and they invited him to dinner. The Signora Storace went shortly after to Venice, where she speedily became " the rage." She performed at the Theatre St. Samuele, in comic opera, with a powerful company. Every time she appeared the house overflowed ; and when she took her benefit — the first ever given to any performer at Venice, and only granted to her because she was an Englishwoman — her mamma standing at the door to take the money, the de- lighted Venetians not only paid the usual entrance-money, but left all kinds of trinkets, chains, rings, and other acceptable trifles to be given to their favorite. The Emperor Joseph, hearing of the clever young vocalist, invited her to Vienna in 1 784, at a salary of eight thousand ducats. The naive, laughter-loving girl was a great pet with his imperial majesty, despite her habit of committing some gaucherie in the etiquette of court life, and involving herself in some ludicrous scrape. The emperor himself, however, was ANNA SELINA STOEACE. 141 noted for his oddities, and often made tlie most sober specta- tors indulge in a quiet titter ; Lc was not, therefore, so easily disconcerted by his fair English friend as he might otherwise have been. One day the signora was riding in the Faubourg to witness a/e^e, when his imperial majesty rode up and asked if she was amused, inquiring if he could do any thing for her. With her usual bluntness, Nancy took him at his word. "Why, sire," she said, in an oif-hand manner, while those about her held their breath in dismay, "I am very thirsty. Will your majesty be so good as to order me a glass of wa- ter?" Joseph good-humoredly turned round, and directed one of his attendants to bring it. About this time she involved herself in a mistake of a more serious nature. There was a certain Dr. Fisher, a violin-play- er, at the court of Vienna, who was a most eccentric man, of very peculiar ideas, an inordinate prattler, and fond of relating of himself the most extraordinary things, which he expected every body to believe implicitly. He was a preposterous cox- comb, and, though disagreeably ugly, he fixed his eye on Nancy Storace, determining that she should be his second spouse. Of his character a just estimate might be formed from an anec- dote related of his conduct on one occasion at Covcnt Garden Theatre. In right of his first wife — the daughter of Mr. Pow- ell — he was the possessor of a sixteenth share in the great Lon- don operatic establishment, and being one evening in the green- room, he rated an actress for having torn her petticoat. The actress questioned his right to do so. "All the right in the world, madam. I have to look after my property," he replied, loftily. "For know, madam, the sixteenth of the petticoat which you have destroyed belonged to me, and is mine, to all intents and purposes." This conceited individual laid such close siege to the heart of poor Nancy that she was fain to capitulate. By dint of prodigious perseverance, and frequently taking tea with her mamma, he persuaded the young lady that he was one of the nicest fellows in the universe, and that she could not do better than accept his hand and heart, and share his musical fame. Nancy was bewitched : her friends remonstrated in vain, and she became Mrs. Fisher. The marriage ceremony was per- formed by a Protestant German clergyman in the chapel of the Dutch embassador. Dr. Adam Auersperg and Lord Mount 142 QUEENS OF SONG. Edgecumbe led the bride to the altar, and the wedding break- fast Avas given by the English minister, Sir Robert Keith, whose proxy was the music-loving earl. Scarcely was she married than she repented of her rashness. She and her caro sposo spent their entire leisure in fighting — literally, not figuratively ; the doctor, it was said, making no scruple of enforcing his arguments with his young bride by a word and a blow, the blow coming first. One of her friends went to the emperor— the good-natured Joseph— and detailed this unfortunate concatenation of circumstances, whereupon his majesty significantly suggested to the doctor that travel some- times enlarges the ideas. The violinist prudently took the broad hint in good part, and repaired to Ireland, where, being much admired for his skill on the violin, he supported himself by teaching and playing at concerts. During the visit of the Duke of York to Vienna, Stephen Storace produced his first opera, in which his sister, who had now resumed her maiden name, and Michael Kelly, took the leading parts. In the middle of the first act Signora Storace suddenly lost her voice, and she in vain strove to recover her- self: she could not force a note. This made her wretched, not only on her own account, but because it caused the failure of the opera. There is little doubt that the loss of her voice was occasioned by nervous excitement consequent upon her rash and unhai^py marriage. For five months she had no voice, and she Avas beginning to despair of its return, when all at once she discovered to her great joy that she could carol in her old bird-like tones. In a delirium of delight she ran to inform her brother of the fact. His second opera, the Equivoci, adapted by Da Ponte from the Comedy of Errors^ was put in rehearsal without delay ; and the elated singer made her brother ample amends for her for- mer unlooked-for failure. This opera had a long and brilliant run, and established the musical reputation of Stephen at Vi- enna. Some time after this Stephen Storace left Vienna for En- gland, returning in 1787 with an engagement for Nancy from Gallini (then manager of the Opera House in Loudon) as prima donna for the comic opera. Her engagement at Vienna was to expire after the ensuing Carnival, and she gladly accepted this ofler of appearing in London. Kelly resolved to leave ANNA SELINA STOKACE. 143 Vienna likewise, and waited on the emperor at Schonbrunn, from whom he obtained permission to depart. The same night he went to the Ridotto Rooms, and was induced, contrary to his usual habit, to join in some play going forward. He lost forty zecchinos to a gallant English colonel, and, having only twenty in his pocket, was obliged to promise to pay the other twenty in the course of the week. His folly came to the ears of Nancy, and the next morning she called on him very early. " So, sir," she said, with a severe countenance, " I hear you were gambling last night, and not only lost all the money you bad about you, but are still in debt. Such debts ought not to be left unsatisfied a moment. You may one day or other go to England, and should the transaction of your playing for more than you possess become known among the English, it might give you a character which I know you do not deserve. It must be settled directly." She drew the twenty zecchinos from her pocket, and told him to go at once and discharge the obligation. " Such an act of well-timed, disinterested friend- ship was noble," said Kelly years after, "and never has been forgotten by me." Every thing was arranged for their departure, when, four days before the appointed time, a slight contretemps nearly broke up the plans of the party. Some friends supped with Kelly and Stephen at the Ridotto Rooms, and the latter, though habitually sober, drank too much Champagne. From the sup- per-table they adjourned to the ballroom, where they saw Nancy Storace dancing with an officer in full uniform, booted and spurred. "While waltzing, the officer's spurs entangled in Nancy's dress, and he fell, with his flair partner, to the ground, " to the great amusement of the by-standers." Stephen, fancy- ing his sister had been intentionally insulted, flew at the offi- cer, whom he furiously attacked, and the uproar and confusion ended by half a dozen gendarmes seizing Stephen and drag- ging him to the guard-house. Several English gentlemen who were present followed him; and the officer of the guard, being a good-natured man, allowed them to send for any thing they chose ; so the party remained with the prisoner all night, mak- ing his durance as pleasant as possible under the circumstances. The next evening Kelly placed himself in the corridor lead- ing from the dining-room to the emperor's study. Joseph, passing through, in his usual custom, saw Kelly, and paused, 144 QUEENS OP SONG. saying, " Why, O'Kelly, I thought you were off to England." " I can't go, sire. My friend, who was to travel with me, was last night put in prison." And he related the unfortunate af- fair. The emperor laughed. " I am sorry for Storace," said he, " for he is a man of great talent ; but I regret to observe that some of the English gentry who travel appear much alter- ed from what they used to be. Formerly they traveled after they had quitted college; it appears to me that now they travel before they go to it. JBon voyage, O'Kelly," he add- ed, passing on ; "I shall give directions that Storace may be set at liberty." Anna Storace made her first appearance at the King's The- atre, with Signer Borelli — a basso of remarkable talent — in Paesiello's comic opera, Gli Schiave per Amore, as Gelinda. Her performance in this opera established her reputation, and her success was so great that she determined on settling? in England. Sometimes she appeared alone, sometimes she was called in to give additional strength to a particular opera, as in Martini's Arbore di Diana, with Fabi'izi, Viganoni, Braham, and Morelli, and in La Cosa Rara, when Mrs. Billington was substituted for Fabrizi. Stephen had the direction of the Italian O^iera for a short time, and gained considerable applause for the manner in which he produced the fii'st piece in which his sister appeared. But his ardent, open nature soon revolted against the petty in- trigues and jealousies of the green-room, so he gave up in dis- gust his musical pursuits, and went to Bath, where he devoted himself to drawing, in which art he excelled. Signora Storace sang at the Ancient Concerts at the end of the year, and on the 8th of December the King's Theatre opened under the direction of Mazzinghi, with a new comic opera by Paesiello, II lih Teodora in Venezia, in which Sig- nora Storace, Signora Sestini, and Signer Morelli supported the principal characters. Morelli had a bass void© of a fine rich mellow quality, and was an excellent actor. The engagement of Mara and Rubinelli having terminated, and the latter quitting England, the season of 1788 began with comic opera, in which Signora Storace took the lead. Benucci was the first buffo, but his fine bass voice, excellent acting, and undoubted talent were not enough to make him a popular fa- vorite. In the following season the comic performers were ANNA SKLINA STORAGE. 145 dismissed, and exchanged for a new set, " all execrable." The dancers, too, were so bad that loud dissatisfaction was express- ed every night, and the manager was at last compelled to send to Paris for a better corps de ballet, with whom came the fa- mous Mdlle. Guimard, then, it was whispered, nearly sixty years of age, but who looked a charming sprite before the lamps. Signora Storace then transferred her services to Drury Lane, where she was received gladly as a most effective bur- letta singer. She was a valuable addition to any theatrical establishment, even apart from her talents, for she was never more happy than when attending to her professional duties. She defied colds and nervous complaints, wearing strong "shoes in the dry and pattens in the wet" to and from the theatre. The first comic singer, Signora Giuliani, not having pleased the public, Signora Storace was re-engaged in 1789 at the King's Theatre, and appeared on the 11th of June in Paisicl- lo's comic opera, IlBarhiere di Seviglia, as Rosina. She sang the airs with great taste and animation, and was ably support- ed by the spirit and humor of Signor Roselli, who made his first appearance as Figaro. She returned to Drury Lane the next season, when the Haunted Toxoer was produced on the 24th of November, 1789. Stephen Storace (having returned to the theatre) composed the music, for the copyright of which he received five hundred pounds. The cast was good: Lord William, Michael Kelly ; Edward, Mr. Bannister; Lady Elinor, Mrs. Crouch ; Adela, Signora Storace. Baddeley, Moody, Suett, Dignum, Sedgwick, also combined to add to the attractions. The success of this piece was wonderful ; it continued to " draw" for fifty nights, and was for a long time afterward a favorite. The next year, the charming little operetta. No Song no Supper^ by Prince Hoare, was brought out for the benefit of Kelly, in which Signora Storace acted Margaretta, and made a great "hit." She was admirable as an actress, though her imperfect knowledge of the English language was against her; but for this defect she amply atoned by her vivacity and arch humor, though her manner Avas a little vulgar. Her ballad, " With lowly suit" (the melody of which was taken from an old street ditty), was so admired as to be always honored with a unanimous encore. The operetta was received with great applause, and remained for years a favorite with the pubUc, 10 G 146 QUEENS OF SONG. being also remarkable as the only entertainment on the stage in which real edibles were provided ; for, no matter where it was played, a veritable leg of mutton invariably figured on the table. This season there were oratorios at both the winter theatres. Those at Drury Lane began on Friday, February 19th, with the Messiah^ which was admirably sung by Reinhold and Kel- ly, Mrs. Crouch and Signora Storace. The 8iege of Belgrade was produced January 1, 1791, Sig- nora Storace, Kelly, Bannister junior, and Mrs. Crouch appear- ing in it. This opera presented a marked instance of the rapid transition which English opera had made " from the simplicity of the musical farce to the captivating splendors of the Italian drama." The copyright was sold for a thousand pounds. In 1792, The Pifates^ an opera by Stephen Storace, in which he introduced some of the music from the JEquivoci, was pro- duced. The scenery was designed by Stephen himself, from sketches made at Naples, In March, 1796, Stephen Storace, when actively engaged in the production of the Iron Chesty was suddenly attacked by gout, and his anxiety to see the piece produced pi'operly was so intense that, against the entreaties of his wife and best friends, he insisted on going to see the last rehearsal. Wrap- ped up in blankets, he was carried in a sedan-chair to the cold stage of the theatre, where he remained to the end of the re- hearsal, after which he returned to his bed, from which he never rose again. Pie died on the 19th of the month, at the early age of thirty-three, leaving several children and a widow, daughter of Mr. Hall, the engraver. Deeply regretted by his j|_ friends, their first thought was to provide as far as possible for the helpless ones he had left, and a benefit was given on the 30th, when the incomplete opera of 3Iahmot(d was performed, with the consent of Hoare, the librettist, some additional mu- sic having been selected by the composer's sister, to render the work presentable. England became insupportable to Signora Storace after the death of her brother ; so, resigning her lucrative engagement at Drury Lane, she accompanied Braham on a musical tour in 1797. They first visited Paris, where they intended to have made only a brief sojourn ; but finding themselves petted, applauded, ANNA SELINA STORAGE. 147 and besieged with entreaties to stay, they consented to give a series of concerts. Tickets were issued at the novel price of one louis, a sum never before given at any concert in the then fashionable republic, the general price being six livres ; but, notwithstanding the increased price of the tickets, their per- formances brought together numerous and elegant audiences, and they remained eight months in Paris, which they at length left with difficulty. They then went to Turin, Milan, Venice, Florence, Leghorn, Genoa, and many other cities, meeting ev- ery where with success beyond their most sanguine expector tions. After four years of this wandering life, they returned to England on the ^urgent entreaties of Mr. Harris, who made them offi^rs impossible to resist, and December 9th, 1801, they appeared in the opera of Chains of the Heart, which had been manufactured by Prince Hoare out of several popular dramas. The marked contempt evinced by the audience for this " tissue of nonsense and folly" agitated Signora Storace to such a degree that she was nearly deprived of her powers. She re- covered herself, however, and went through her part with her " usual ability and archness," though the critics objected that the character was too " genteel" for her style. Braham was " prodigiously impressive," according to the theatrical critics of the day, displaying not only a voice of exquisite sweetness and flexibiUty, but Avonderful taste and executive skill. The new style which he had adopted during his absence from En- gland was not at first generally popular ; the public were not accustomed to the profusion of embellishment with which he embroidered even the most simple airs ; indeed, he himself did not admire the florid style, though he assisted to make it fash- ionable. In February, the following year, Braham's popular opera. The Cabinet, was brought out, in which Storace appeared (as Floretta) with Braham and Incledon; and on the loth of March she took her benefit (at Covent Garden), when the Siege of Belgrade and Xo Song no Siqyj^cr were performed to an overflowing house. In 1803, Harris, the spirited proprietor of Covent Garden, produced on the 13th of December a new comic opera by Dib- din and Braham, called the English Fleet in 1342. The airs which were sung by Signora Storace and Braham were not so 148 QUEENS OF SONG. effective as those of Tlie Cabinet, and the English Fleet had to encounter a tempest of opposition at its launch; "but, through the skill of its pilot, Mr, Harris, it was at length brought into safe and secure anchorage, where, with flying colors, it afterward rode in triumph," For this piece Braham received the largest sum that had ever been paid for the copy- right of a musical drama — one thousand guineas. A violent dispute arose between Braham and the manager when Signora Storace took her benefit, April 1st, 1805, orig- inating in the refusal of the manager to give Braham the priv- ilege of selecting songs for the night's programme. This re- fusal the tenor chose to regard in the light of an insult, and, after some altercation, sent in his resignation ; but, that the signora might not suffer, he appeared that evening in the Siege of Belgrade. Tlie public took up the quarrel, and marshaled itself into two parties. The house was crowded, and the in- stant the popular tenor appeared on the stage, the uproar be- gan, and the clamor became so deafening that it was in vain Braham attempted to make himself* audible. Wearied with their own noise, the rioters at last desisted, and consented to hear what Braham had to say. He stated that it had been hith- erto the custom to allow him the privilege he had claimed, and he had exercised it without opposition, having always taken what songs he pleased from any operas he liked, to introduce them in any piece for his benefit. That this established custom having now for the first time been refused by the manager, he could only consider such refusal as personal to himself, and that he felt proportionately hurt, not from being denied the privilege, but from the abrupt withdrawal. An explanation from the opposition was then vehemently demanded, and some one came forward to offer an apology ; but Kemble, as acting manager, was violently called for. He was not in the house, nor was it known where he was to be found. However, the audience insisted that he should appear. After some delay Mr. Kemble came on, and stated that Mr, Braham might have been permitted to take whatever songs he pleased from pieces that were not now on the stock-list, but not from those which still brought money to the theatre. The audience at last allowed the opera to proceed. During the latter part of this summer Signora Storace and Braham were engaged to perform six nights at the Brighton ANNA SELINA STORAGE. 149 Theatre. In the rehearsal of their first opera, the Haunted Toicer^ when Braham's leading song, " Spirit of my sainted sire," came on, it was discovered that there were no kettle- drums ; and as the absence of the drum accompaniment would completely ruin the song, the manager faithfully promised that the drums should be behind the scenes in the evening. At night the drums were at hand, but there was no one to beat them I Braham and the manager were in despair, as the song was to be given immediately. Storace, who was standing by, seized the drumsticks, and, with her usual merry manner, un- dertook to beat the drums, a task which she performed as if she had been a drummer all her life. From various reasons Signora Storace resolved to quit the stage in 1808. She was aware that her voice was of a nature to crack and grow husky, and she had made enough to retire on in comfort. On the 30th of May she appeared for the last time on the stage, in her favorite part of Margaretta, in No Song no Sup2)er. Colman wrote for her a farewell address of about two dozen lines, which she sang in that character, thus making " a swanlike end, fading in music." Her emotion was visibly perceptible, and was more than her strength could bear. When she reached the line, " Farewell, and bless you all for- ever !" she was so overcome by her feelings that she was borne senseless from the stage. She quitted the stage esteemed and regretted by all Opera frequenters, and withdrew altogether into private life, reserving her inimitable powers for the amuse- ment of her friends. She was visited in her retirement by a large circle of noble and fashionable acquaintances, for she en- joyed a considerable income, was luxurious in her habits, in- telligent and agreeable, and considerably accomplished. Every year she gave a fcte^ " to which the love of whim drew some, and the folly of fashion drew others." Seven years after her retirement Signora Storace was dining with her old friend Kelly, who had invited Signor Ambrogetti and another friend to meet her, when suddenly she was seized with a shivering fit, and complained of being very ill. The next day Dr. Hooper advised her to be bled ; but this she ve- hemently refused, because it was Friday, her superstitious feel- ings making her regard it as an unlucky omen. It may fairly be said that she sacrificed herself to this superstition, for it was confidently asserted that had she lost blood her life might have 150 QUEENS OF SONG, been saved. She died at her counti-y house at Heme Hill, at the age of forty-nine, May, 1815, of dropsy of long standing. Her generosities were as numerous as her eccentricities. She left a legacy of a thousand pounds to the Royal Society of Mu- sicians. She had already contributed largely toward erecting in the Abbey Church, at Bath, a monument to her old master, the celebrated Rauzzini. I ilKS. iJlLLINGTON. ELIZABETH BILLINGTON. 153 CHAPTER XIII. ELIZABETH BILLINGTON. One of the leading performers in the orchestra of our Italian Opera, about the middle of the last century, was a native of Saxony named Charles Weichsel, His wife (whose maiden name was Wierman) was a leading vocalist at Vauxhall, who appeared at the Hereford Musical Meeting in 1768 and 1769. She had been a pupil of John Christian Bach, who came to England in 1763, and her talents were highly appreciated by the frequenters of Vauxhall, where she sang from 1765 to 1775. Her voice was of unusual compass, reaching to the E in alt, and it had one striking pecuHarity — an approximation to the tone of a clarionet, from which instrument she had studied her sol- feggio. Her facility of execution was singular, her style was elegant and florid, and she had attained a remai'kablc neatness in staccato passages, in which she rivaled the pizzicato of the best violinists of the day. The only defect in her otherwise mellow voice was a certain reediness of tone.* This musical couple had two children, a girl, born in 1770, in Litchfield Street, Soho, named Elizabeth, and a son named Charles. Both were clever and sprightly, and displayed a gen- uine love of music ; they studied together, and were very much attached ; but the girl's taste turned toward singing and piano- forte performance, and the boy's toward the violin. EUzabeth, whose general musical education was superintended by her fa- ther, with a severity amounting to harshuess,;rcceived instruc- tion from li(jL- faUu r's countryman, Schroeter, and occasionally * "Mrs. Weichsel imitated the tones of her husband's hautboy till she con- tracted a reedy tone. I mentioned the circumstance one day to Mrs. Billing- ton, at FuUiam, when, taking me to the window, and pointing to an old gen- tleman, who was walking at the farther end of the garden, 'Yonder,' she said, ' is the cause. The applause with which my father's excellence on his favor- ite instrument (the hautboy) was uniformly received, led my mother to copy its tones till she lost her own. Sensible of her mistake, I have always pre- ferred to emulate, with what success I know not, the more liquid notes of the flute.'"— BusBT. G2 / n v\ 154 " QUEENS OF SONG. from some of the first masters of the time, who were aston- ished at her rapid progress and early proficiency : lessons which to others would have been tasks, were with her mere pastimes. At the asre of seven she assisted at her mother's benefit at the little theatre in the Ilaymarket, singing and playing on the piano in a way that surprised every one. Her brother Charles also played a solo on the violin in a style which delighted and astonished the public, always ready to welcome juvenile j^he- nomena. I Elizabeth, when she was only eleven, composed original I pieces for the piano-forte ; and at fourteen, when others were ^beginning to study, she appeared at a concert at Oxford. As she grew older, she continued her piano-forte studies under the care of Mr. Thomas Billington, one of the band belonging to Drury Lane. He was a clever, pleasant man ; she was young and lovely, with bewitching manners ; they were both young j and deplorably poor, but they Avere romantic, and papa was { unbearably severe and irritating. The natural consequence \ was, that they were married at Lambeth Church, at the begin- \ ning of 1785, in direct opposition to the wishes of Elizabeth's \ parents. Too soon the young pair found themselves in a sad predica- ment. They had no money, and were at their wit's end ; so, pressed by necessity, they went on a journey of speculation to Dublin, where they succeeded in obtaining engagements at the theatre in Smock Alley, from Richard Daly. Mrs. Billington made her first appearance on the lyric stage at the age of fif- : teen in Gliick's opera of Orpheus and EiirycUce, with the eel- * ebrated Tenducci. Tenducci Avas a very fine singer, and a popular favorite. In 1*760 he had delighted the Dublin public by his performance as Arbaces, and his exquisite singing of the air " Water parted from the Sea," in Artaxerxes. At his ben- efits he used to obtain thirty, forty, and even fifty guineas for a single ticket. The " frolicsome Dublin boys" sang about the streets, in his honor, this stanza, to the old tune of" Over the hills and far away." "Tenrlucci was a, piper's son, And he was in love when he was young, And all the tunes that he could play, Was 'Water parted from the say !'" Unfortunately, the aspiring young vocalist, Mrs. Billington, ELIZABETH BILLINGTON. 155 was doomed to disappointment and mortification, for the audi- ence infinitely preferred a Miss Wheeler, and always applauded her, taking no notice of the new-comer. This was very vexa- tious, but her annoyances did not cease here. Daly, the man- ager — they called him "Dick the Dasher" — was an intolerable tyrant, and ground down his wretched comjiany in order to keep his carriage and squander money on his own pleasures. Brutal and overbearing, he was constantly exacting forfeits on every imaginable pretense. Another uncomfortable circum- stance was that every performer, however respectable, on go- ing to receive the week's salary, was obliged to stand on a dis- mal narrow staircase which led to the oflice, huddled together with the lamplighters, scene-shifters, carpenters, tailors, and supernumeraries, the latter being frequently so distressed as to be driven to stealing the clothes of the performers. Daly was continually threatening, on the slightest pretext, to throw per- formers into prison, in order to bully them into yielding to his schemes, or to take revenge for imaginary oifenses. Disgusted by the annoyances to which she was subjected, the timid debutante almost relinquished the stage in despair ; but another engagement was obtained for her at the Capel Street Theatre, then under the management of Signor Gior- dani. About the end of this summer a girl Avas born to the young couple, but it did not live long. Mrs. Billington left Dublin, and went to Waterford with her husband, who was engaged in the orchestra of the theatre there. It happened that the company were getting up some difficult musical performance, and wanted a female voice ; so, seizing the auspicious opportunity, Billington asked permission to bring his wife, a request which astonished every body, for till that moment no one had heard of her. She was introduced, and took by storm those of the actors who listened to her, for she united to great musical science rare natural gifts as a vo- calist ; her beauty, too, was of a brilliant type, and altogether she created a "sensation" among the performers. John Ber- nard, the actor, who entertained a lively friendship for Billing- ton, volunteered to give the young singer any assistance or advice in studying one or two characters ; and after the lapse of a few mornings she was perfect not only in the words, but the characters of Rosctta and Clarissa. A full rehearsal was called, and the only objection raised against her Avas, that ti- 156 QUEENS OF SONG. inidity almost paralyzed her powers : this explained the secret of her failure in Dublin. However, after some farther rehears- als, she gained such confidence that the manager put her name in the bills, and she appeared in public. Her success "was equal to her deserts ;" yet, at the conclusion of the season, she was without an engagement. Her husband, being in the same predicament, went to Bernard, and begged him to nse his in- fluence with Mr. Palmer, of the Bath Theatre, in procuring him a situation. Bernard received for answer that the ar- rangements for the orchestra had been long since comf)leted, but that if the young couple chose to join the company under the condition of making themselves generally useful. Palmer would give them three guineas a week. Billmgton, of course, gladly received the ofler ; but circumstances induced the pair to return to Dublin, where Mrs. Billington sang again at the Rotunda with some success ; they then went to London. Mrs. BiUington, who now felt confident in her powers, ap- plied to Harris, the proprietor, and Lewis, the manager, of Covent Garden, for an engagement. They replied that if she liked to perform three nights, they would be willing to give her a trial ; but so short a probation frightened her. She de- sired to have thirteen nights, under the reasonable apprehen- sion that, as in Ireland, overanxiety might at first mar her ef- forts ; and this was agreed to. She demanded twelve pounds a week, to which they demurred, that being the highest sum then given to Miss Wheeler, Mrs. BilHngton's Dublin rival, who was then at Covent Garden, and whose reputation was established. The comparison irritated Mrs. Billington, and she was about to decline farther negotiations, but prudently changed her mind ; and her name was announced as " Mrs. Billington, late Miss Weichsel." It happened to attract the attention of the king, who commanded her appearance two days sooner than it had been advertised. This circumstance, so highly flattering, encouraged the trembling debutante, who resolved to stake every thing on her present chance, and to quit the stage if .she failed. Nature and study had both combined to make Mrs. Billing- ton ready to profit by those " lucky chances," of which people talk so much, and which never avail grumblers and idlers ; and she labored day and night to insure her success. The compass of her voice — a pure soprano, more sweet than pow- j Sb L_of ( ELIZABETH BILLINGTON. IST erful — was of extraordinary extent in its upper notes, from A to A in alt ; but the lower part was very limited. Of thissbe was aware, and in a bravura she would often substitute one octave for another, a license which passed unnoticed by the undiscriminating multitude, while it was easily excused by cul- tivated ears, being, as one connoisseur remarked, " Like the wild luxuriance of poetical imagery, which, though against the cold rules of the critic, constitutes the true value of poetry." She had not the full tones of Banti, but rather resembled those of Allegranti, whom she closely imitated. Her voice, in its very high tones, was something of the quality of a flute or flageolet, or resembled a commixture of the finest sounds of the flute and violin, if such could be imagined. It was then " wild and wandering," but of singular sweetness. " Its agil- ity," says Mount Edgecumbe, " was very great, and every thing she saner was executed in the neatest manner and with the ut- ■' most precision. Her knowledge of music enabled her to give great variety to her^embellishments, which, as her taste "was always good, were always judicious." In her cadenzas, how- ever, she was obliged to trust to her memory, for she never could improvise an ornament. Her ear was so delicate that . she could instantly detect any instrument out of tune in a large I orchestra ;* and her intonation was perfect. In manner she ' was " peculiarly bewitching," and her attitudes generally were good, with the exception of an ugly habit of pressing her hands against her bosom when executing difticult passages. Her face and figure were beautiful, and her countenance was full of good-humor, though not susceptible of varied expression ; in- deed, as an actress, she had comparatively little talent, depend- ing chiefly on her voice for producing cftcct on the stage. On the 13th of February, ITSO, in the presence of the king and queen, and before a house crowded by fashion, Mrs, Bil- lington made her debut at Covent Garden, in the character of Rosetta, in Zove in a ViUaffe,wh\ch she had studied so assidu- ously with her friend Bernard in Waterford. Her success was beyond her most sanguine anticipations. It was declared that Rosetta had never had so able a representative. She sang in a resplendently brilliant style ; brilliancy being then an innova- tion in English singing, for the once celebrated Catley thought * Her sense of hearing was so painfully acute that she was often seriously annoyed by tlie sound made by small flics in a room. 158 QUEENS OP SONG. one cadenza enough in each verse, and Mrs. Bannister scarcely ever used any ornament whatever, her style being purely that of ballad-singing. The innovation was considered dangerous, and it was said the presence of royalty alone shielded the young vocalist from disapprobation. The pit was bewildered ; the gallery gaped in sheer amazement ; but the musical world unanimously applauded, and the effect produced in the orches- tra by her performance was magnetic, the leader being so ab- sorbed during one of her beautiful cadences that he neglected , to give his chord at its close. So much science, taste, flexi- ■, bility, birdlike sweetness, and brilliancy had not been united in ' any preceding singer. Miss Wheeler was routed, and Mrs. Bil- l^ lin.gton assumed undisputed sovereignty in the realm of song. At the expiration of the twelve nights the managers waited on the successful debutante to renew the engagement, and questioned her cautiously regarding her expectations. More in jest than earnest, for she hardly credited her triumph, she demanded a thousand pounds and a benefit for the remainder of the season ; and, to her utter astonishment, the managers gladly assented. So great was their satisfaction, indeed, that at the end of the season they voluntai'ily gave her a second night, in return for the extraordinary emoluments they had de- rived from her performances. For her second part she chose Polly, in the Beggar's Opera^ and in music of a simpler character proved that she was mis- tress of every style, and had that judgment so rare in a singer — to discern the true limit of embellishment. She appeared at the Ancient Concerts immediately after making her debut, and sang " Come rather, goddess, sad and holy," from Handel's L'' Allegro ed il Penseroso, and " Dove sei" [from JRodelinda), now better known as "Holy, holy Lord." Mara, who was then in the zenith of her fame, was seized with a furious jealousy of the rising young vocalist, and evidenced her smothered rage by disputing with her for places and pre^ eminence. Mrs. Billington, being very good-tempered, never resisted the haughty German, but took every opportunity, on the contrary, to speak of her in flattering terms. During the season, although her theatrical d uties w ,ere un- remitting, Mrs. Billington never reitixe'cl from the most seduT lous pursuit of the general knowledge and practice of her art. She labored incessantly, and received lessons of Mortellari, an ELIZABETH BILLINGTON. 159 \,Italian master of celebrity at that time in England, The piano- forte occupied a good deal of her attention; and so exqiiisTte wanuT toiich, that~BaIo!Tron" TTsed ta^sity of her, " Sare, she sings wit her fingers." Had she devoted liersclf to the piano instead of to vocal art, she would have been the most celebrated ., pianist of her day ; but she was eagerly intent on becoming a ] finished singer. Often would she go from the theatre to her ^ master, never tiring, and determined on leaving nothing to J_~[Trfiance, the god of fools. So much were the public struck by ""^^the novelty and singular beauty of her vocal graces and orna- ments, that her favorite songs were published as nearly as pos- sible in the way she sang them, her fioriture being exactly taken down. Her husband was intoxicated with her success, and took care that nothing should be neglected to give eifect to her performance. One night, when she was singing the bravura in the last act of Artao^erxes, her husband, who was seated in the orchestra, considering that the trumpeter did not accompany her with sufiicient force, whispered frequently to him, " Louder ! louder !" The leader of the band, agreeing with Billington, repeated the same command so often that at length the indignant German, flinging down his trumpet in a rage, turned to the audience, and exclaimed, in a tone of angry remonstrance, " It be vary easy to say ' Louder and louderer,' but, by gar ! vere is de vind ?" On the theatre closing, Mrs. Billington availed herself of the , interval to visit Paris, Billington remaining in London teach- f ing music, and living splendidly on the joint earnings of him- self and spouse. She also seized the opportunity of obtaining instruction from Sacchini, neglecting no means of fortifying and enriching her natural endowments with the aid of science. From him she quickly caught " much of that pointed expres- sion, neatness of execution, and nameless grace by Avhich her performance was so happily distinguished :" indeed, she may be said to have been the last pupil of that master, for he died soon after. Tlie next year Kelly appeared, when he saw Mrs. Billington perform Rosetta. " I thought her an angel in beauty, and the St, Cecilia of song," says he, enthusiastically. It having be- come " the fashion" to translate popular French pieces for the English stage, an operetta, founded on Sterne's story of "Ma- ria," was produced at Covent Garden, April 24th, this year. 160 QUEENS OF SONG. / under the title of Nina., with the original music by Dalayrac, the words having been adapted by Dr.Walcot (Peter Pindar). Mrs. Billington performed Nina with great feeling and expres- sion, and was loudly applauded. She performed at Covent Garden for several seasons. In the summer of 1789 she went to Dublin, when she sang with Miss George, afterward Lady Oldmixon. This singer's voice was of such compass that it reached B in alto perfectly clear and in tune, being three notes higher than any other singer. "Mrs. Billington, who was engaged on very high terms for a limited numb;er of nights, made her first appear- ance on the Dublin stage in the character of Polly in the Beggar'' s Opera., surrounded by her halo of poiDulai'ity. She was received with acclamations, and sang her songs delight- fully ; particularly ' Cease your funning,' which was tumultu- ously encored. Miss George, who performed the j^art of Lucy (an up-hill singing part), perceiving that she had little chance of dividing the aj^plause with the great magnet of the night, had recourse to the following stratagem. When the dialogue duet in the second act, ' Why, how now, Madam Flirt ?' came on," Mrs. Billington having given her verse with exquisite SAveetness, Miss George, " setting propriety at defiance, sang the whole of her verse an octave higher, her tones having the effect of the high notes of a sweet and brilliant flute. The audience, taken by surprise, bestowed on her such loud ap- plause as almost shook the walls of the theatre, and a unani- mous encore was the result." Many persons having said that it was only in bravura-sing- ing that she was a proficient, Mrs. Billington selected for her benefit on the 19th of February, 1790, the musical j^iece of the Flitch of Bacon., the first opera composed by Shield. As Eliza, she sang with touching eifect the simj^le and jjlaintive melodies in the most chaste and beautiful style, thus silencing those who had limited the range of her talents. Haydn gave this opinion on her in his Diary in 1791 : "On the 10th of December I went to see the opera of The Wood- man (by Shield). It was on the day when the provoking memoir of Mrs. Billington was published. She sang rather timidly, but yet well. She is a great genius." The tenor was Incledon. "The common people in the gallery are very troublesome in every theatre, and take lead in ujjroar. The ELIZABETU BILLIXGTON. IGl audience iu tlie pit and boxes have often to clap a long time before they can get a fine part repeated. It was so this even- ing with the beautiful duet in the third act : nearly a quarter of an hour was spent in contention, but at length the pit and boxes gained the victory, and the duet was repeated. The two actors stood anxiously on the stage all the while." The great composer paid her one of the prettiest compli- ments she ever received. Reynolds was painting her portrait : in the character of St. Cecilia, and one day Ilaydn called just as it was being finished. Haydn contemplated the picture \ very attentively, then said suddenly, " But you have made a \ great mistake." The painter started up aghast — "How! \ What ?" " Why," said Haydn, " you have represented Mrs. Billington listening to the angels ; you should have made the angels listening to her !" Mrs. Billington blushed with pleas- ure. " Oh, you dear man ?" cried she, throwing her arms round his neck and kissing him. Early in 1794 she quitted England, having resolved to abandon the stage, and went with her husband and brother Charles, the violinist, on a Continental tour. Charles's excel- lent taste, and the discrimination of his style of accompani- ment, were said to have contributed not a little to set off Mrs. Billington's talents to the best advantage. Intending to travel incognito, they declined the letters of introduction offered by friends ; but two days after they reached Naples a valet-de- place betrayed Mrs. Billington's name to Lady Hamilton, who immediately called on the great English singer, and insisted on presenting her to the queen. She was then persuaded to perform in private, accompanied by Mr. Weichsel, before the king and queen at Caserta, their country residence ; and so gratified were their majesties by her performance that they re- quested her to appear at the San Carlo, then looked on as the finest operatic establishment in the world. It is difficult to refuse royal requests; and accordingly, in May, 1794, she made her debut before the Xeapolitans iu Inez di Castro, which had been specially set for her by Francis Bianchi. Her success was complete. To Inez di Castro succeeded the Bidone of Paisiello, the Ero e Leandro of Paer, and the Deborah e Siscra (an oratorio, or rather sacred drama) of Gnglielmi. In the latter Mrs. Bil- lington was supported by Davide, the most celebrated tenor 11 162 QUEENS OP SONG. of Italy, who had a pretty good opinion of his own abilities. Speaking one day of Braham, he declared that there were only two real singers in the Avorld — himself aud "the En- glishman." It became the vogue to patronize the beautiful English donna, from national pride as Avell as from personal admira- tion. The royal example was followed by Lady Templeton, Lady Palmerston, Lady Gertrude Villiers, Lady Grandison, and all the English aud Irish nobility then resident in Na^Dles who either affected or possessed musical taste. She went in June, 1796, to Bologna, w^here she found her- self unexpectedly singing to an audience consisting of French officers and soldiers, whom the rapid victories of Napoleon had led in less than two months across the whole of Northern Italy from the Varennes to the Adige. Bonaparte himself arrived in Bologna on the 19th of June, and learning that Mrs. Billington had an engagement at Milan, a city already occu- pied by his troops, he assured her not only of perfect security, but that Madame Bonaparte would pay her every attention in her power. During her engagement at the Pergola, therefore, Mrs. Billington was a frequent guest at the table and private parties of Jose])hine. From Milan she proceeded to Venice, where she was engaged to sing during the Carnival of 1V96. Nasolini, a young composer of great promise, wrote Semi- ramide for her debut. She sang only one night, however, be- ing suddenly seized by severe illness, which confined her for six months to her bed. To the honor of the impresario be it said, that he generously brought her the whole of her salary, which she recompensed by singing without any farther re- muneration during the season of the Ascension, on the occa- sion when the annual fair drew immense numbers of strangers to Venice. On her recovery the theatre was illuminated for three nights, and the corps diplomatique presented her with a jewel of great price and beauty. On going from Venice to Rome, she was earnestly requested to give a concert in the Eternal City. She at first declined, but the society of Cava- lieri undertook the arrangements, and she and her brother Charles performed to a crowded audience. She returned to Naples at the close of this year; and as about this time an , eruption of Mount Vesuvius took place, the superstitious big- otry of the Neapolitans attributed the visitation to the per- ELIZABETH BILLINGTOIf. 163 mission granted to the heretic Englishman to perform at the San Carlo. Serious apprehensions were entertained by Mrs. Billington's friends for her safety ; but her talents and popu- larity triumphed, and she continued to appear. Her engagement was terminated in a most melancholy man- ner. She and her husband were dining one evening with the Bishop of Winchester (North), who was then staying at Na- ples. After dinner, Mr. Billington went up stairs to fetch a cloak for his wife to go to the Opera ; w^hile coming back, he suddenly fell dead in the arms of his friend Bianchi. The con- sternation which his mysterious death created may readily be imagined. Many persons shook their heads, and wdiispered that he had died from poison or th^ stiletto. Mrs. Billington having been the object of the devoted attentions of all the young nobles of Naples, horrible stories were industriously circulated. It is saicl that they feared to tell Mrs. Billington, and that she sang at the theatre that night ; but such an asser- tion is scarcely to be credited. The Queen of Naples inter- fered to prevent her reappearing until she had completely re- covered the shock. A servant of the public has not much time to devote to grief; and there were only too many reasons for supposing that Elizabeth Billington did not particularly regret the hus- ^ band with whom she had eloped in her girlish years. Having, "by the irruption of the French array, lost twenty thousand sequins which she had placed in the Bank of Venice, she was glad to take an engagement from the proprietors of La Scala, and left Na^^les to fulfill it. She had not been long at jMilan when she became acquaint- ed Avith a Frenchman, the sou of a banker of Lyons, and cm- ployed in the commissariat department ; he was named Feli- can, Felissant, Fleissont, Felisson, Felissent, Felissini, Florrc- sent, or Felipent, for thus variously has the name been spelt. He was a remarkably handsome man, in the prime of life, of fine athletic form, military appearance, and seemingly every thing that could be desired in temper and disposition ; and he laid strong siege to the heart of the lovely Englishwoman. So successful was he in his wooing, that the beautiful widow de- clared she Avas " now in love for the first time in her life," and they wei'b married in 1V99. But in the very first week of the " lioneymiJou"" tM~dbTeitssumed the fierceness of the hawk :" ) 164 QUEENS OF SONG. her husband treated her unmercifully, and if she dared to com- plain, " plates, dishes, and any other movables were thrown at her." Raised from a state of poverty to one of comparative affluence, the ungrateful Felican now bedecked himself in an I elegant French uniform, and ordered his wife to tell every I body that she had bought him a commission ; but for thus as- / suming a character to which he was not entitled, and for other / fourheries he had committed, of which his cruel usage of his / bride was not the least, he was publicly flogged, by order of I General Serrurier — a punishment which, while it cut his wife I to the soul, and humbled her to the dust, had not the slightest \ ^ e ffect on his hardened nature. /" The next year Braham," who had come to Italy chiefly for / study, was singing during the Carnival at the Scala, and was / announced to appear with Mrs. Billington in an opera by Na- I solini, II Trionfo di Claria. The applause which he received at rehearsal enraged Felican, who intrigued till he persuaded the leader to omit the grand aria for the tenor voice, in which Braham's powers were advantageously displayed. This piece of spite and jealousy being noised about, the public openly tes- tified their displeasure, and the next day it was announced by Gherardi, the manager, in the bills, that Braham's scena should be performed, and, on the second night of the opera, it was re- ceived with tumultuous applause. Braham, justly indignant, avenged himself in an ingenious manner, but his wrath de- scended on an innocent head. Mrs. Billington's embellish- ments were always elaborately studied, and, when once fixed on, seldom changed ; the angry tenor, knowing this, caught her roulades, and on the first opportunity, his air coming first, he coolly appropriated all her fioriture. Poor Mrs. Billington listened in dismay at the wings. She could not improvise or- 1 naments and graces, and when she came on, the unusual mea- greness of her style astonished the audience. She refused, in the next opera, to sing a duet with Braham ; but, as she was good-natured, she forgave Braham, and they always remained I excellent friends. ISTotwithstanding Felican's abominable behavior, and the public disgrace he had undergone, the infatuated singer still V loved her husband, and they went together to Treviso, in the Venetian States, where she had purchased a country house. \ But no sooner were they settled in it than the ruftian resumed J ELIZABETH BILLINGTOX. 165 his infamous conduct : he insulted and beat her continually, and, worst of all, compelled her to wear the coarsest garments, and threatened to kill her if she did not surrender to him her jewels, which he thus wrenched from her. Driven to despair, she at last ran away, joined her faithful brother Charles at Venice, and set off with him, in 1801, for England. On reaching London she was engaged at once : in fact, there was a pitched battle between Harris and Sheridan as to which should have her. She gave the preference to her old friend Harris, and signed a contract with him, the terms being dOOO guineas to perform from October to April, three times a week, a free benefit being insured at £500, and £500 insured to her brother for leading the band on the nights she sang. Sheridan, however, stoutly persisted that he had first oflfered those terms, and the dispute was ended by an arbitration, Avhen it was de- cided that she should perform alternately at both houses. Mrs. Billington appeared at Covent Garden the 3d of Octo- ber, 1801, in the opera of Artaxerxes, so much admired at the period ; in it Dr. Arne was said to have " consolidated the beautiful melody of Hasse, the mellifluous richness of Pergo- lese, the easy flow of Piccini, and the finished cantabile of Sac- chini, with his own pure and native simplicity." Thunders of applause greeted her entrance on the scene, and she responded " after the French manner," by courtesying respectfully to the three sides of the house. At the very commencement of her perforniance all the expectations of her audience were satisfied. In the duet of "Fair Aurora," which she sang with Incledon, she glided through the chromatic passage which closes the first and second strain Avith a sweetness of eflfect which no one but herself could produce. In the air, " If o'er the cruel tyrant Love," she was exquisite, displaying in almost every bar an irreproachable taste. Her ornaments, though abundant, were chaste, and the additional notes, in which she soared with ease to D in alt, were as ingenious and tasteful as they were forci- bly expressed. In sliort, nothing remained to crown the tri- umpli of the evening but the execution of the familiar bravura which precedes the finale, "The soldier tired of war's alarms," in Avhich she attained the acme of her art, and was vehemently encored. Incledon was an excellent Arbaces; and Mrs. At- kins, as far as her limited powers would allow, sang Semira's airs with sweetness and expression. / 166 QUEENS Oi' SONG. At the end of the first act, as the bills of the day announced, a bi-avura song, " Lost in anxious doubts," composed by Bi- anchi, was sung by Mrs. Billington, Avith an obbligato accom- paniment by Mr. Weichsel. This piece displayed the Avonder- ful extent of her vocal powers, and the facility with which she executed it enraptured and astonished the audience. She had much improved, every one remarked, since she was last in England : she was less redundant in ornament, and had acquired a more distinct articulation. Lord Mount Edgecumbe says she resembled Mara so much that the same observations would apply to both equally well. ".Both were excelleut mu- sicians, thoroughly skilled in their profession ; both had voices -of uncommon sweetness and agility, particularly suited to the bravura style, and executed to perfection and with good taste every thing they sang. But neither were Italian, and conse- quently both were deficient in recitative ; neither had much feeling, both were deficient in theatrical talents, and they were absolutely null as actresses, therefore they were more calcu- lated to give pleasure in the concert-room than on the stage." It was noticed that her pronunciation of the EnoUsli laniruaore was not quite free from impurities, arising principally from the introduction of vowels before consonants, a habit probably ac- quired from the Italian custom. "Her whole style of elocu- tion," observes one writer, " may be described as sweet and persuasive rather than powerful and commanding. It natural- ly assumed the character of her mind and voice." She was considered the most accomplished singer that had ever been born in England. On Friday, November 13, she made her appearance in an- other part — that of Clara, in Sheridan's popular opera The Duenna. In this character she was amiable and captivating, and her dress Avas exquisitely tasteful. lucledon was the Carlos ; and nothing could be more excellent than Munden's Don Jerome. She played Mandane for many nights at both theatres. One night she came to Drury Lane so hoarse as to render it a ques- tion whether she could possibly appear. As she was going off to dress in great perplexity, her maid came to tell her that the key of her jewel-box Avas missing, inquiring if she had it with her. "What can I have done Avith it?" exclaimed the vexed vocalist; "I suppose I must haA^e SAA'allowed it Avithout ELIZABETH BILLINGTOJf. 107 knowing." " And a lucky thing too," said Wewitzer, always watching for an opportunity of launching a joke ; " it may serve to open your chest." On Thursday, October 15, as she was acting Mandane at Covent Garden, she suddenly fainted on the stage at the end of the second act, and a succession of the most alarming fits rendered it impossible for her to go on again. The cause of this distressinsr accident was sincrular. The dav before she had sent for Mr. Ileaviside, the surgeon, to look at her arm, which was much inflamed, and gave her acute pain ; and a few days afterward he extracted an entire needle from below the right shoulder. The arm had assumed a black appearance, and the friendly surgeon strongly dissuaded her from perform- ing; but slie could not bear to disappoint the public. Happi- ly, no evil results followed the accident, and in a fortnight she was well. She took a short holiday to recruit her strength and her nerves, and on the 4th of November sang in the Du- enna at both houses. Till then, that opera had never been acted at Sheridan's own theatre. In the part of Clara, it might have been supposed that "Adieu, thou dreary j^ile," was difficult enough for the most exigent admirers of florid singing, but Mrs. Billington introduced a piece by Nasolini " which rendered her hearers breathless with astonishment." Quick, the original Mendoza, appeared with her. By December the public had grown ratlier tired of Man- dane, and the house Avas not Avell attended. Mrs. Billington therefore appeared, January 5, 1802, in a third character— that of Rosetta, a part which afforded her talents a greater scope than either Mandane or Chira. She was delightful; acted with a charming ease and comic humor, and sang the airs with spirit and perfect skilh Incledon played Young Meadows. The crowds, which had diminished, now returned. On the first night the house had never been so crammed, the stage being so covered with ladies and gentlemen that the perform- ers had scarcely room to move. Among the notabilities who crowded the house one night when she was playing Avas Je- kyl, the Avitty barrister, accompanied by a friend from the coun- try. When the curtain rose and "discovered" Rosetta and Lucinda in the garden, the ovation was so tumultuous that Mrs. Billington came forward to courtesy in acknowledgment. The country gentleman, fixing his eyes on the prima donna, I 168 QUEENS OF SONG. who had jjrodigiously increased in Tbulk during her residence abroad, asked, " Is that Rosetta ?" " No, sir," replied Jeky], "it is not Rosetta, it is Grand Cairo !" On the 30th of April, a new comic entertainment called Algonah, the drama by Cobb, the music by Kelly, was pro- duced at Drury Lane, for the benefit of Mrs. Billiugton, the chief parts being performed by Mrs. Billington, Mrs. Crouch, and Mrs. Caulfield. The performance was altogether very successful, and the heroine of the evening was surrounded by flatterers ofliering their congratulations on her triumph. On returning home a painful surprise awaited her. ^Com- fortably lolling on one of the sofas in her drawing-room she found — her husband ! Desperately enamored of her English guineas, he vowed he could no longer bear to be separated from his " beloved Bettina." Overcome with terror, the only course that remained to the triumphant Queen of Song, the idol of the public, was to bribe her legal lord and master to , depart. " I never saw any woman so much in awe of man as \ poor Mrs. Billington was of him whom she had married for \ love," said Kelly, who hated him cordially, and refused to know f him. The scoundrel FeHcan accepted the bribe, and left his /' wife in peace for a time. -/ Mrs. Billington appeared with Madame Mara on the 3d of, June, 1802, the fai'ewell night of that most distinguished sing- er. They sang a duet together, composed to display their mutual accomplishments ; the contest excited both to the ut- most pitch of their skill, and every one who heard them was astonished. Having concluded her splendid career at the English thea- tre, Mrs. Billington entered into an engagement with the pro- prietors of the Italian Opera. Her brother was also engaged as leader, to the exclusion of Salomon. She appeared on the 4th of December in Nasolini's serious opera Merope. She was now wonderfully popular. Engagements multi- plied ; for no fashionable concert or musical entertainment was complete without her. Her income averaged fourteen thousand pounds a year; for she made large acquisitions in the shape of presents, allowances, benefits, etc. : at one period her property did not fall far short of sixty -five thousand pounds. Of her earnings she was not at all miserly. She took care to place her old father in comfortable circumstances ELIZABETH BILLINGTON. 169 (her mother had died young) ; and, being childless — though she had had one child by Billington, Avhich had died in infan- cy — she adopted two little girls. The eldest of these children, a girl of nine years old, was sent to Brussels, to be educated at a convent there ; the other, the daughter of a friend named Madocks, was brought to her when only seven days old, and reared with great care at a respectable boarding-school. She maintained a free hospitality at her charming villa at Ham- mersmith ; her establishment was conducted on a scale of princely taste and magnificence, and she received royal, no- ble, and gentle visitors, ladies of title and high connections be- ing pleased to attend her concerts and accept invitations to her splendid entertainments. Her early poverty, however, had impressed on her mind the neccssItyl5f1ecoTOM}VincT"^e ^ jLOUlrived to live rather under than above her income. Her hospitality and the habit of accommodating 'TferseTf~tcr her Sfucsts once led her into an awkward embarrassment. She had frequently received at her table a barrister of eminence, with whom she had several times talked on legal subjects, asking his opinion, from mere curiosity, on various points of law ; and he, finding his affairs much deranged, had the impu- dence to send in a bill of costs to her, amounting to three hundred pounds, for consultations ! This she showed to her solicitor, who informed her that, though the barrister could not legally enforce the claim, yet he would advise her, the man being in great distress, to compromise the matter by making him ji present of a hundred pounds. /"^s a hostess Mrs. Billington was irresistibly charming; but / at this period, although her manners were bewitching, she was beginninsT to become somewhat coarse and masculine, the outlines of her once sylph-like figure being lost in her embon- point. The pencil of Sir Joshua has depicted her as St. Ce- cilia, by way of companion to his portrait of Mrs. Siddous as the Tragic Muse ; and of this picture (which drew forth Haydn's famous compliment), Ward, the engraver, executed a very faithful and spirited reproduction. In public she was always good-humored and obliging, and would often put aside difficulties or annoyances with easy good-nature. Once she had to sing at a concert with a Miss Parke, when this young lady, jealous of the supremacy of the great cantatrice, threatened to fling \;p her engagement if her H / to 170 QUEENS or SONG. I name were printed in smaller type tliau that of Mrs. Billing- ton. The conductor nervously informed his prima donna of this threat, and asked her what he should do. Mrs. Billing- ton laughed and said, " Print my name in the smallest letters employed in the bill," Avhich was done ; " and much Miss Parke gained by her corpulent type," says the narrator of the circumstance, A splendid combination of talent was offered to the fre- quenters of the Opera House in 1804, when Mrs. Billington and Madame Grassini, who had just appeared, performed to- gether in II Hatto di Proserpina, composed expressly by Winter for these two beautiful women and exquisite vocalists. The charming duet, sung by them, " Vaghe colli," was always enthusiastically encored ; a beautiful trio, also, sung by them, accompanied by Viganoni — the cavatina " Che faro senza la madre ?" was rapturously applauded. The entire opera was admired, indeed, and considered Winter's chef-d'oeuvre, al- tliouo;h he had written it in three weeks. In January, 1805, Winter produced a new serious opera en- titled UAmore Fraterno, the music of which was very beauti- ful. Mrs. Billington was the heroine, and sang as only she could sing, ably supported by the two tenor singers, Viganoni and Braham. She also appeared in Nasolini's opera oi Ferdi- nand in Jlexico ; and in May, Winter composed for her the opera of Calypso, the music of which she sang to perfection, and "looked the character divinely." Lord Mount Edge- cumbe gave it as his opinion that the operas in which Mrs. Billington excelled were La Clemenza di Scipio7ie, composed by John Christian Bach, and revived for her ; Paisiello's Fl- frida; Armida, Castore e Polluce, and others by Winter; and Mozart's Cleinenza di Tito. She was still admired, and overflowing houses testified to her popularity ; but, finding her health beginning to fail, Mrs. Billington wisely resolved to quit the stage. For her benefit, which took place March 30th, 1806, she selected Mozart's Clemenza di Tito, which had never been heard in this country, thus being the first to introduce the immortal composer's music into England. There was only one manuscript score of Clemenza di Tito in the kingdom : this copy was in the ' possession of the Prince of Wales, who kindly sent it to the Opera House for the use of Mi-s. Billington. The band, the ' ELIZABETH BILLINGTON. 171 singers, and cLorus being very anxious to hear the contents / of so precious a novelty as a manuscript opera by Mozart, Mrs. Billington, with her customary good-nature, sat down to the piano-forte, and played the accompaniments from thW ' , score, singing the principal part — that of Yitellia. In this way she went through the entile work, from beginning to ■ / end, giving Mozart's expression and character so admirably, / at sight, that the impromptu audience were enraptured not ; / only with the beauty of the music, but the wonderful power ' \^ and musical skill of the singer. ' The performance on her benefit night was highly successful, and proved that it was not from any lack of applause that she retired from the stage. "She sang with uncommon effect, and seemed anxious to repay with every exertion the appro- bation and attention of so splendid and numerous an audi- ence." At the close of the season she retired. Almost her last appearance was on a performance for the benefit of a charity at Whitehall Chapel, at which the queen, prince re- gent, and most of the royal family were present. After Mrs. Billington had relinquished public singing, she was asked by J. B. Cramer to appear for his benefit. She re- plied, " I can not sing for you, but I will play for you, if you like." Latterly she had accompanied herself, in her bravura songs on the Opera stage, in a style which was equal to her vocal performance. In 1809 she retired. No entreaties were spared by the noble directors of the Ancient Concerts, and the managei'S of every theatre or concert at which she had assist- ed, to induce her to sing; but her resolution was finally taken. The only time she ever appeared after this was on tlie 3d of May, 1811, at the concert-room of the King's Theatre, for the benefit of her brother. She sang a fine composition of Cima- rosa's, and the " Soldier tired," in which she seemed determ- ined to leave a lasting impression of her extraordinary powers on her hearers. After a separation of fifteen years, Mrs. Billington actually invited her husband to England in 1817, and then proceeded with him to Italy, accompanied by one of the girls whom she had adopted — Miss Madocks, to whom she meant to bequeath her large fortune. Ilcr plate and valuable ornaments Avere transmitted by sea, while the two old, but newly-united lovers crossed at Calais, en route for the shores of the Adriatic. ^ 172 QUEENS OF SONG. After revisiting their mansion at St. Artien, near Venice, it was their intention to go to Rome and Naples. The ill-fated wife had not been long reunited to her brutal husband, how- \ ever, before he renewed his brutality, and at length gave her a blow that laid her on a bed of sickness, from which she never i rose again. She was taken ill August 18th, 1818, and died oni the 25th of the same month. On the death of his wife, Felican, possessed with the idea that Miss Madocks was the daughter of a royal duke and of Mrs. Billington, and that by marrying her he would obtain a handsome fortune, laid a plan for entrapping her into accept- ing his hand. Fortunately, his vile scheme was detected by some individual in England, who, through the agency of the physician Aglietti, obtained the poor girl's release from the convent in which she had been j)laced by Mrs. Billington's caution, and caused her to be brought over to this country. Mrs. Billington had, at different epochs, amassed three dif- ferent fortunes. One was spent with her friends, another was seized by enemies, and the third was left partly in possession of, and the remainder claimed by, her husband, to the amount of twenty thousand pounds. Napoleon the First once asked whether the English were not proud of Mrs. Billington. ^ I i GIUSEPPA GKASSINI. l73 CHAPTER XIV. GIUSEPPA GEASSINI. One of the most charming and popular singers at La Scala, in the Carnival of 1794, was Giuseppa Grassini. She was horn in 1775, at Varese, in Lombardy, where her father, a farmer, resided. The rare beauty of her voice and appearance induced General Belgioso to offer to defray the expenses of her music- al education. lie gave her the best masters to be found in Milafi, who neglected nothing that could develop the natural abihties of their pupil ; but Giuseppiua was a wayward, indo- lent little beauty, who disliked any kind of study, and seemed resolved to leave it entirely to chance whether she should be- come a great vocahst or not. Nevertheless, her progress in the good and " large" manner of the old school was rapid ; for she could sing to perfection, but could not give the slightest reason for any thing she did. She appeared for the first time at La Scala during the Car- nival of 1794, singing with Marchesi and Lazzariui in the Ar- taserse of Zingarelli, and in the Demofoonte of Portogallo. The advantages she derived from making her debut with the first artistes of her time — Marchesi and Crescentini — were the means of perfecting her talent. Never was debut more bril- liant ; and soon the principal theatres of Italy offered her en- gagements. In the Carnival season of 179G she appeared at La Scala in Apelle e CamjKtsjje, by Traetta, and Zingarelli's Giulietta e Borneo^ with Crescentini and the tenor Adamo Bl- anch i. Girolamo Crescentini Avas the last of the fine Italian school which produced Senesino, Farinelli, and others. lie was endowed with one of the most beautiful voices imaginable. " Nothing could be compared to the suavity of his accents," says Fetis, " to the force of his expression, to the perfect taste of his fioriture, to the breadth of his phrasing, or to that clus- ter of splendid qualities, any one of which, cultivated to the same degree of superiority, would have sufficed to assure to 174 QUEENS OF SONG. the possessor tbe first rank among the singers of the day." He had, however, the most inflated idea of his own conse- quence; and his vanity and impertinence, of which many amusing stories are related, were utterly ridiculous. In 1797, Giuseppina was the reigning prima donna at La Fenice, where she took the part of Orazia in the new opera by Ciraarosa, in Avhich she created an extraordinary sensation. The same season she was engaged at Naples to sing at the San Carlo during the fetes in honor of the marriage of the hereditary prince. Surrounded by homage and flattery, she was now the acknowledged Queen of Song. Grassini was an exquisite vocalist in spite of her ignorance, and, albeit fickle and capricious, a most beautiful and fascina- ting woman — luxurious, prodigal, and generous, though heavy and dull in conversation. Her voice was originally a sopT'ano, but changed to a deep contralto ; it was rich, round, and full, though of limited extent, being within its proper compass of about one octave of good natural notes. Though not unfre- quently a little husky and guttural, it was of delicious quality, and of great volume and power ; but if she attempted to go higher than its small range of notes she produced only a shriek, " quite unnatural, and almost painful to the ear." Her style (exclusively the cantabile) w^as rich and finished ; and though she had not much execution, what she did was elegant and perfect ; she never attempted what was beyond her powers. Her dramatic instincts were always true, and in the expression of the subdued and softer passions she has never been excelled. As an actress she had many advantages. Her figure was tall and commanding, and her carriage and attitudes had a classic beauty combined with a grace peculiarly her own. Her head was noble, her features Avere symmetrical, her hair and eyes of the deepest black, and her entire appearance had an air of singular majesty. From Naples she returned (in 1800) to Milan. After the battle of Marengo she sang in a concert before the great Na- poleon, who was so fascinated by her many and irresistible at- tractions that he desired to be introduced to her. Las Cases gives a sketch of this interview in many respects irreconcilable with the real circumstances of the life of Grassini. However, he says, she reminded the mighty conqueror that she had "made her debut precisely during the early achievements of the gen- GIUSEPPA GRASSIXI. iVo eral of the army of Italy. ' I was then,' said she, ' in the full lustre of my beauty and my talent. My performance in the Virgins of the Sun was the topic of universal conversation. I fascinated every eye, and inflamed every heart. The young general alone was insensible to my charms; and yet he was the only object of my wishes. What caprice — what singular- ity ! When I possessed some value, when all Italy was at my feet, and I heroicallv disdained its admiration for a single i^lance from you, I was unable to obtain it; and now how strange an alteration. You condescend to notice me now, when I am not worth the trouble, and am no longer worthy of you.' " An ex- traordinary speech for a very lovely and very vain woman of twenty-five, almost at the outset of her career. Be that as it may. Napoleon invited the young singer to Paris. Grassiui's beauty was, in one sense, a disadvantage to her in accepting this invitation, for Josephine was so jealous that, as was well known at the time, many ladies had been banished from Paris on mere suspicion. She took an inveterate dislike to Grassini, and violently hated her. Grassini sang on the 22d of July at the grand fete given in honor of Marengo, in the Church of the Inyalides, where there were assembled eight hundred musicians. This magnificent solemnity created an extraordinary excitement. The bronzed warriors of Marengo were there, their helmets flashing in the summer sunlight, and two regiments of Grenadiers of the Guard arrived at the moment the concert commenced. The military airs which Gossec had composed for the occasion were executed with marvelous precision by the immense or- chestra. Lays surpassed himself; and 3Iadame Grassini, who had made a profound sensation in Paris, seemed inspired. The Opera corps gave the ch.orus from La Carctvane, " La victoire est a nous," with a grand trum])ct accompaniment, which was almost drowned in the explosion of public joy and delight. In two concerts which Madame Grassini gave soon after at the Academic she achieved a splendid triumph. At the first the most exclusive members of the Parisian monde and the most distinguished str.'yigcrs crowded the theatre ; on the sec- ond occasion, despite the tropical heat, the house was complete- ly invaded long before the hour for commencing. The Opera did not i^erform works of a character suited to her style ; she knew but little French, and her pronunciation was very defect- 176 QUEENS OF SONG. ive, so that she could not appear at the Opera Fran9ais, and was therefore obliged to restrict her iDerformauces to concerts and private soirees. Being debarred from performing at the Opera, Madame Grassini quitted France almost immediately, receiving before her departure a magnificent present from Napoleon. In November, 1801, the Italian prima donna was in Berlin, where she announced concerts which seem never to have taken place. Ill 1802 she returned to France, and Napoleon made her directress of the Opera in 1804. At first Josei^hine had permitted her to appear at her private concerts at the Tuile- ries, but she did not detest the beautiful singer less cordially than heretofore. It was whispered that the cantatrice did in reality seek to attract the attention of Napoleon, and that she turned her eyes fixedly toward the throne of the Dictator — another Cleoj^atra endeavoring to captivate Caesar. " I hear, madame, that our Grassini is a favorite with the great Napoleon," said Count Sommaglia to Josephine one morning. " Yes," answered the irate wife of the First Con- sul, hardly able to disguise her spite, " the ridiculous vanity of the creature amuses us amazingly. Since she has been made directress of the Italian Opera, there is more intriguing going on among these gentry than there is Avith the diplomats : in the midst of a serious conversation, she will break out into a horse-laugh, throw herself on a sofa, and, fancying herself Sp- miramis on the throne of Nineveh, burst forth in a great style with 'Son Regina, e son amata!'" ("I am a queen, and I am beloved!") "One day," says Fouche, " Bouajjarte observed that, considering my acknowledged ability, he was astonished I did not perform my functions better — that there were sever- al things of which I was ignorant. 'Yes,' replied I, 'there certainly are things of which I was ignorant, but which I now know well enough. For instance, a little man, muffled in a gray cloak, and accompanied by a single servant, often steals out on a dark evening from a secret door of the Tuileries, en- ters a closed carriage, and drives oif to Signora G . This little man is yourself, and yet this fancij'ul songstress jilts you continually for Rode the fiddler.' The Consul answered not a word ; he turned his back, rang, and immediately withdrew." The Italian Opera of London was, in 1804, opened under the direction of Mr. Francis Goold, who engaged Madame Gras- GIUSEPPA GRASSINl. 177 fiini for the season, to perform alternately with Mrs. Billington, giving her a salary of £3000 for the months of March to July. Grassini made her first appearance in the serious opera of Xa Vergine del Sole, by Meyer, and her fine voice was heard to peculiar advantage in the duet of" Parto, ti lascio," with Viga- noni. The melody of the cfteclive grand cliorus, "Qual error," in this opera, Avas much admired for its unusual beauty and originaHty. The origin of this chorus, as told by Madame Grassini, was curious. Meyer, the coraiaoser, was at a supper- party at Venice, when a young Englishman being asked to give a song, sang the ballad "Pretty Maud, pretty Maud." Meyer, delighted with the melody, asked for pen and ink, and having requested the young man to repeat it, set it down, and trans- formed the simple ballad into a grand chorus. Madame Grassini, although she had so fine a voice, was ex- tremely beautiful, and an excellent actress, yet did not make much impression at first ; and this want of aj:)preciation on the part of the public alarmed the Italian donna so much that when her benefit was about to take place, she feared to ven- ture on singing alone, and begged of the good-natured Mrs. Billington to assist her. H Batto di Proserpina was com- posed by Winter for the occasion, Ceres being personated by Billington, and Proserpina by Grassini. The music of each part was admirably adapted to display the respective powers oft he two performers, so different, yet each so exquisite. The plaintive accents of Grassini in the little simple air, " Paga fui," in which she laments the happy days of her childhood, sub- dued and melted every heart, and brought tears to many eyes. The tide of popularity suddenly set in for Grassini. She car- ried ofl" all the applause: her beauty, her command of expres- sion, her grace, were universally admitted, and she became at once a reigning Queen of Song. Her deep tones, harmonizing with the clear, birdlike notes of Mrs. Billington, produced a thrilling efiect. " Not only was she rapturously apj^lauded in public," says Lord Mount Edgecurabe, " but she was taken up by the first society, feted, caressed, and introduced as a regular guest in most of the fashionable assemblies." Of the claims to admiration of the two singers he says, somewhat malicious- ly, " No doubt the deaf would have been charmed with Gras- sini, and the blind must have been delio-hted with Mrs. Billinjr- ton." The airs sung by the two prima donnas were to be 12 II 2 178 QUEENS OF SONG. found on the piano-forte of every lady wlio affected to sing Italian music. II Ratto cU Proserpina was the only opera in which they appeared together, for Goold, contrary to all advice, engaged them on condition that, with the exception of the one opera, they should appear singly on alternate Tuesdays and Satur- days. It was understood that the Saturdays were to be strict- ly kept, for the difference between the days was most extra- ordinary, five hundred pounds being sometimes taken on Sat- urday, and often only sixty pounds on Tuesday. This arrange- ment had nearly caused the theatre to be shut one Tuesday night. It Avas Mrs. Billington's turn to perform, but she was so hoarse from a cold that she could not sing a note. Goold implored Grassini to sing, but she declared that no inducement should prevail with her to exchange her Saturday for a Tues- day. Kelly, as stage manager, did all in his power to persuade her to relent, but she was deaf to all entreaties. At last he re- sorted to a somewhat reprehensible method of inducing her to agree. He called on her in the morning, and began talking carelessly on the subject. " My dear Grassini," said he, in an off-hand way, " as manager I ought to prevail upon you to per- form, but as a performer myself, I enter entirely into your feel- ings, and think you perfectly right not to sing out of your turn : the Saturday is yours ; but what I say to you I trust you will not repeat to Mr. Goold, as it might be of serious in- jury to me." "Depend upon it, my dear Kelly," answered Grassini, "I will not; I look upon you, by what you have just said, to be my sincere friend." As he was leaving the room, he turned, as with a sudden thought. " To be sure, it is rather imlucky you do not sing to-night, for this morning a message came from the lord chamberlain's office to announce the queen's intention to come incognita, accompanied by the princesses, purposely to see you perform; and a large grillee is actually ordered to be prepared for them, where they can j^erfectly see and hear without being seen by the audience ; but I'll step my- self to the lord chamberlain's office, and state that you are con- fined to your bed, and express your mortification at disappoint- ing the royal party." " Stop, Kelly," cried the cantatrice, all in a flutter; " what you now say alters the case. If her maj- esty Queen Charlotte wishes to see La Vergine del Sole, and to hear me, I am bound to obey her majesty's commands. Go GIUSEPPA GEASSINI. 179 to Goold, aud tell bim I will sing." Accoi'dingly, she did per- form in the evening. " When I went into her dressing-room after the first act," says Kelly, " her majesty not having ar- rived, Grassini, suspicious that I had made up a story to cajole her, taxed me with the trick ; and when I confessed it, she took it very good-naturedly, and joined in the laugh at her own credulity." Early in 1805 Madame Grassini appeared in Cimarosa's chef- d'oeuvre, Gli Orazi eel i Curiazi, which was got up with great care. Her acting in this piece was pronounced to be almost equal to that of Mrs. Siddons ; in the last scene particularly, where she exclaimed, " O Orazio, mio bene," leaning over her dead husband, she was " positively heart-rending." The opera drew crowded houses to the King's Theatre, as it had done at Venice, where it had been originally produced. Grassini ap- peared at Braham's benefit, June 13. She performed between the acts in a scene rej)resenting Andromache mourning over the tomb of Hector, in which the graces of her action, and the pathetic tones of her voice, vanquished criticism itself After several brilliant seasons, Madame Grassini left En- gland, and returned to the Continent in 180S, She was im- mediately engaged at the Parisian Opera, and at the concerts of the court, where she sang with Crescentini, Brizzi, Crivelli, Tacchinardi, and Madame Paer. Her salary was 30,000 francs, exclusive of about 15,000 francs' worth of presents, while her pension was 15,000 francs. Among the operas which she sang at the theatres of the Tuileries and of St. Cloud was Di- do7ie, which Paer comj^osed expressly for her, and in which she performed with rare talent and dramatic expression. She was also admirable in the works of the ancient reiDertoire, es- pecially in the CEdipe of Sacchini. Talma used to say of Grassini that he had never seen any other actress — not even Mars, Dorval, or Duchesnois — endow- ed, with a physiognomy so expressive or so mutable. The Grecian outline of her profile, her beautiful forehead, rich black hair and eyebrows, her superb dark eyes, " now flashing with tragedy's fiery passions, then softly languishing with love ;" finally, " that astonishing ensemble of perfections which Na- ture had collected in her, as if to review all her gifts in one woman — all these qualities together exercised on the spectator such a charm as none could resist. Pasta herself might have 180 QUEENS OF SONG. looked on and learned, when Grassini had to portray either indignation, grief, auger, or despair." One night in 1808 she sang with Crescentini, in Borneo e GiuUetta, at the Tuileries. During the exquisite scene of the third act the audience were bathed in tears. The emper- or, carried away, and forgetting the rules of etiquette, clapped bis hands and " shouted like a school-boy ;" and Talma, seated on a bench near the orchestra, did not attempt to conceal his emotion: the great tragedian confessed that he had never been so deeply touched by any thing in his life before. When the performance was over, Napoleon sent to La Gras- sini a slip of paper, on which he had written, "Bon pour vingt mille francs, Napoleon." Crescentini glanced at the paper. "Twenty thousand francs !" cried he. " That is a round sum." " It is the marriage portion of one of my nieces," replied Grassini, smiling. To Crescentini the emperor sent the Order of the Iron Crown. One morning, at St. Helena, Napoleon was speaking of the tenacity with which the French clung to slight matters of de- corum : " In conformity with my system," observed he, " of amalgamating all kinds of merit, and of rendering one and the same reward universal, I had an idea of presenting the Cross of the Legion of Honor to Talma; but I refrained from doing this, in consideration of our capricious manners and absurd prejudices. I Avished to make a first experiment in an affair that was out of date and unimportant, and I accordingly gave the Iron Crown to Crescentini. The decoration was foreign, and so was the individual on whom it was conferred. This circumstance was less likely to attract public notice or to ren- der my conduct the subject of discussion ; at woi'st, it could only give rise to a few malicious jokes. Such," continued the emperor, "is the influence of public opinion. I distributed sceptres at will, and thousands readily bowed beneath their sway; and yet I could not give away a ribbon without the chance of incurring disapprobation, for I believe my experi- ment with regard to Crescentini proved unsuccessful." "It did, sire," observed some one present. " The circumstance occasioned a great outcry in Paris ; it drew forth a general anathema in all the drawing-rooms of the metropolis, and af- GIUSEPPA GRASSINI. 181 forded ample scope for the expression of malignant feeling. However, at one of the evening parties of the Faubourg Saint Germain, a bon-mot had the cfiect of completely stemming the torrent of indignation. A pompous orator was holding forth, in an eloquent strain, on the subject of the honor that had been conferred on Crescentini. He declared it to be a disgrace, a horror, a perfect profanation, and inquired what right Crescen- tini could have to such a distinction. On hearing this, the beautiful Madame Grassini, who was present, rose majestically from her chair, and, with a truly theatrical tone and gesture, exclaimed, ''Et sa blessure, monsieur! do you make no allow- ance for that ?' This produced a general burst of laughter and applause, and poor Madame Grassini was very much embar- rassed by her success." " The emperor, Avho now heard this anecdote for the first time," says Las Cases, "was highly amused by it. He often afterward alluded to it, and occasionally related it himself." In 1812 Madame Grassini reappeared in England at the King's Theatre, and was at first rapturously received. But she was no longer Avhat she had been. Her beauty was undi- minished, but her acting was now languid and ineifective; at least it appeared so, contrasted by the energetic and ani- mated manner of her successor, Catalani. Her voice, too, was changed : she had endeavored to regain its upper register, and, instead of a mellow contralto, it had become a hoarse soprano. Still, hoAvever, she displayed much of her former grace and style, especially in her favorite part of Orazia, and in Paer's opera, Didone. But the public found that she was no longer the Grassini of four years back ; and after one season she de- parted, unregretted. Slie went to Milan in 181G, where she sang with Trammez- zani; and appeared there also in 1817, in Gli Orazi, etc., with her sister Rosa and the tenor Banderoli. She went next to Amsterdam; and in 1818 she sang in concerts at the San Benedetto, Venice. In 1820 she was singing at Brescia, in Nasolini's Semiramide, and Rossini's Eduardo e Cristina; in 1822 she was at Munich, and then at Vienna, where she sang in Cimarosa's Gli Orazi ed i Curiazi, and in a new opera by Pixis. In the spring of 1823 she was at Florence, with Rosa Morandi and Eliodoro Bianchi. Madame Grassini married Colonel Ragani, afterward direct- 182 QUEENS OF SONG. or of the Opera in Paris ; and that city, where she had passed the happiest years of her life, was chosen by her for her re- tirement. In private life Madame Grassini was exceedingly agreeable, though she had no pretensions to brilliant conversational powers. She was gay and good-humored, and very unafiected. Exemj)! from all feelings of envy or jealousy, she was always ready to oblige other artistes, and to bring forward young as- pirants to fame. M. Scudo, in his Mitsique Ancienne et Mbderne, tells an amusing anecdote of the famous cantatrice. At a party, given in Paris some time about 1838, at which Madame Grassini was present, the conversation turned on Napoleon and Louis XVIII. Some one imagined the two meeting in the Elysiau Fields, and discussing the great events which had taken place in their time, and every one present contributed an idea to this improvised dialogue of the dead. Madame Grassini archly said, "I am sure that the first question which the great Napo- leon would jDut to King Louis would be this : ' Why did you not continue the pension which I had given to my dear Gras- sini ?' " Madame Grassini died, January, 1850, at Milan, in her eighty-fifth year. So well had she preserved her looks, that she did not appear to be more than fifty. Her portrait, by Madame Lebrun, is at Avignon, in the museum of that city. ANGELICA CATAT.ANI. 183 CHAPTER XV. ANGELICA CATALANI. In a fertile valley near Sinigaglia, a small obscure town about forty miles from Rome, there dwelt, toward the latter end of the last century, a humble family, consisting of father and mother, four girls, and two boys. "Contented wi' little," because they never dreamed of having more, the family "was just sufficiently raised above the villagers to secure respect without exciting envy. Signor Augustus Catalan! was a local magistrate, a sort of justice of the peace ; and, in order to in- crease his income — rather straitened by the necessities of six children — he dealt in diamonds, making his most profitable Bales at the great annual fair held in the vicinity. Angelica, one of the girls, born in October, 1119, was se- lected as the one who should be provided for by being })laced in a convent. The child, ardent, susceptible, and gay, did not make any objection to change her monotonous home life for the society at the convent; on the contrary, she skipped about in childish glee, full of pleasant anticipations. She was twelve years old when her fiither took her one morning to the con- vent of Sta. Lucia di Gubbio, wliich was twenty leagues from Sinigaglia, in the duchy of Urbino. The establishment being exclusively devoted to the education of noble young ladies of the province, Signor Catalani secured the admission of his daughter by proving his relationship with the house of3Iastai, the family to which Pope Pius IX. belongs. Angelica's moth- er was very averse to dooming the lively child to a life so freezing, so heart-wearing, so antagonistic to all her instincts as that of a nunnery ; but the signor would listen to no re- monstrance, and Angelica clnpi^ed her hands and danced for joy at the prospect of joining so select a throng of young dam- sels and veiled sisters. So, with tearful eyes, the mother went, with her husband and child, to present Angelica to the lady superior. The abbess was a woman of refined mind, entirely free from bigotry, and won the hearts of her children by her kindness and amiability. 184 QUEENS OP SOXG. Music being an essential part of the services of the convent, on Sundays, and high festivals especially, the nuns and novices sang hymns and sacred pieces, which drew crowds to the chapel. It was soon discovered that the Signorina Catalani had a lovely voice, and the lady abbess determined on giving her every opportunity of cultivating the gift. Ere long the flexibility, compass, and brilliancy of her tones excited such wonder among the nuns that it was debated whether it would not be justifiable to use so rare an endowment as a means of attracting a greater concourse of worshipers to the shrine of their patroness, Santa Lucia. They commenced by giving Angelica short solos to sing, which became noticed immedi- ately, and on fete-days the doors of the chapel were so thronged that numbers were obliged to go away, despairing of a chance to hear la maravigUosa Arigelica. Scandalized by the chapel being transformed into a kind of concert-room or theatre, some scrupulous devotee complained to the bishop, and, in conse- quence, the lady abbess received a summary injunction to dis- continue so objectionable a practice. This Avas very hard, when it proved a source of such emolument to the establish- ment ; so the abbess quietly placed her young friend behind a group of novices, who concealed her and tempered the bril- liancy of her voice, while the congregation knew very well that their favorite still sang. On one occasion Angelica sang " Ave Maria Stella" so touchingly, that, melted into tears, the crowd pressed toward the place where she stood, anxious to obtain a glimpse of the fair Angelica. Eager for study, the little girl at last brought on herself a serious illness by striving to outstrip her companions; and the venerable abbess, alarmed by her loss of bloom and her wea- ried looks, sent in haste for her parents. She was now four- teen, and had profited more by her musical studies in two years' sojourn than many another had done in twice that time; but of course her education was still wofully deficient in other respects, and this she never repaired. On her return home, the neighbors, learning the opinion of the abbess that the voice of Angelica was perfect, flocked to Signer Catalani's house with the hope of hearing the new prodigy; and with girlish vanity she would often show them that they did not require to enter the house to hear her magic strains, by singing with a power so tremendous that she could be heard at a long dis- tance. ANGELICA CATALANI. 185 It was repvesented to her father that a gift so rare ought not to be thrown aAvay, and that he ought to take some steps toward training AngeUca to the duties of a professional life ; but for some time he was unable to decide on allowino- his daughter to be devoted to the profanity of the theatre: a rigid Roman Catholic, viewing, too, with pardonable complacency, his dignity as a magistrate, he was loth that a child of his should be a vocalist by profession. At length, however, he was forced by circumstances to yield to the urgent entreaties of those about him, for he was reduced to jioverty by the Ital- ian wars, and he made arrangements for taking Angelica to Rome, when his intentions were forestalled by the accidental visit to their quiet valley of an eminent musical comj^oser, who became her instructor. From the hands of this master Angelica was taken by her father to Florence, to receive finishing lessons from Marchesi. That virtuoso taught her partly to control the profuse luxuri- ancy of her voice, but at the same time he unfortunately en- couraged her fondness for the "jjomps and tinsel" of vocaliza- tion. While studying, she went to hear a great singer at the theatre of Florence, and, while listening to the ravishing strains, the tears began to steal down her cheeks. "Alas!" she cried, with a naivete which Avas almost touching, " I shall never attain perfection like this!" The cantatrice desired to see the young girl who felt her power so deeply, and, having asked her to sing, embraced her with tenderness, saying, " Be reassured, my child : in a few yeais you will surpass me, and it will be I Avho shall weep at your success." At the age of sixteen Angelica met with her first engage- ment. Just at this time — 1795 — Caros, the director of La Fenice, was in despair. He had prepared a new opera for the Carnival with the utmost care and splendor, when his prima donna suddenly died ; and, knowing not where to seek a sub- stitute, he was contemplating the very unpleasant alternative of closing his theatre. Zamboni, the prompter, mentioned that he Avas acquainted Avith a young girl who seemed to promise well, and introduced Angelica. Caros at once accepted her ofier of singing for him, and she made her debut in the part of Lodoiska, in the opera of that name by Mayer. She was the loveliest debutante that had come forward for years, and such a voice had never been heard before. Tall, and of fine 186 QUEENS OF SONG. proportion, dazzlingly fair, witli "beautiful blue eyes, and lovely yet noble-looking features, she was lilce a painter's ideal. Her physiognomy was capable of every shade of expression, both playful and forcible ; for, though almost severely grand in out- line, her features could assume the character " not merely of gayety, but of arch simplicity, and her smile was charming." Her voice was a sopi'ano of the purest quality, embracing a compass of nearly three octaves, from G to F, and so powerful that no band could overwhelm its tones, which thrilled through every fibre of the hearer. Full, rich, and magnificent beyond any other voice ever heard, " it bore no resemblance," said one writer, " to any instrument, except we could imagine the tone of musical glasses to be magnified in volume to the same gra- dation of power." She could ascend at will — though she was ignorant of the rules of art — from the smallest perceptible sound to the loudest and most magnificent crescendo, exactly as she pleased. One of her favorite caprices of ornament was to imitate the swell and fall of a bell, making her tones sweep through the air with the most delicious undulation, and, using her voice at pleasure, she would shower her graces in an ab- solutely wasteful profusion. Her greatest defect Avas that, while the ear was bewildered with the beauty and tremendous power of her voice, the feelings were untouched : she never touched the heart. She could not, like Mara, thrill, nor, like Billington, captivate, her hearers by a birdlike softness and brilliancy ; she simply astonished. " She was a florid singer, and nothing but a florid singer, whether grave or airy, in the church, orchestra, or upon the stage." With a prodigious volume and richness of tone, and a marvelous rapidity of vo- calization, she could execute brilliantly the most florid nota- tion, leaving her audience in breathless amazement ; but her intonation was very uncertain. However, this did not trouble her much. In the season of 1V98 — three years after her debut — she sang at Leghorn, with Crivelli, Marchesi, and Mrs. Billington. In 1799 the Prince Regent of Portugal, a great musical ama- teur, invited the lovely Angelica to Lisbon, desiring to secure her services as first singer in his Chapel Royal. On her ar- rival there she received an offer from the director of the Opera, at a salary of 24,000 cruzados (three thousand pounds), which the prince permitted her to accept. Crescentini took a kindly ANGELICA CATALANI. ISV interest in his young countrywoman, and gave her much use- ful advice ; and as he was a master of a far more severe school than Marchesi, she profited by his instructions. During sev- eral seasons she was the idol of tlie city as well as of the court of Lisbon, The reserve of her manners, her known piety, and the goodness of her heart Avon all alike. As for the regent, he treated her as one of his own children. It happened that there was, in the suite of General Lannes, French embassador at Lisbon, a young officer of noble family, M. de Vallebrequc, captain of Hussars ; a handsome man, of distinguished appearance and fine manners, if not particularly remarkable for talent. He had been compelled to fly his na- tive country, though for reasons by no means discreditable. Being quartered in a German town with some brother officers, he had received a gross insult from a young count, his supe- rior officer, whom he challenged ; the count* was wounded, to death as it seemed, and Vallebreque sought refuge in an ob- scure part of Vienna. While he lay in concealment the count recovered, and, being a good-natured young man, would have gladly become reconciled to his gallant subaltern ; but his fam- ily vindictively determined to bring the matter to a court- martial, and as they were wealthy and powerful, the day went against poor De Vallebreque, who was condemned to perpetu- al banishment. As it was unsafe for him to remain in the Aus- trian territory, he quitted it forever, and joined the suite of General Lannes. One night, as Angelica was singing in the theatre, her eyes alighted on this handsome young man, who was sitting in one of the boxes, elaborately dressed, and distinguished especially by a diamond aigrette in front of his military cap. Now An- gelica was not above the little weaknesses of her sex : she liked diamonds, and did not object to being admired ; and she could not avoid remarking the ardent though respectful glances di- rected toward her by the owner of the brilliant aigrette. It was with a coquettish pleasure, therefore, that she observed the distinguished-looking yoimg officer in the green-room when she came off the stage ; nor did she assume her most forbid- ding frown when he was introduced to her as "M. de Valle- breque," captain in the 8th Hussars. After this she had fre- quent opportunities of meeting the young officer in the circle of the French embassador. His manners were lively and ele- 188 QUEENS or SONG. gant, and he was of an ardent temperament. Angelica was cbai'ming in conversation, energetic and spirited, but possessed of great sensibility, sweetness of temper, and warmth of affec- tion ; and it was impossible to be in her society without being fascinated by her good-humor, vivacity, and simplicity of char- acter. They were both in the first flush of youth and beauty, and they mutually fell i^assionately in love. M. de Vallebreque went to Signor Catalani to ask his sanc- tion to their union. But papa had other ideas with regard to his daughter. Already she was reaping a golden harvest by her talents, and he felt disinclined to relinquish such a source of wealth. He therefore coldly repressed the proposals of the lover, and, though he could afford no sufficient reason.,; for dis- couraging his suit, he yet gave him to understand that it was hopeless. Poor Angelica was miserable when she learned the cold reception her handsome young soldier had met with, and became so thoroughly wretched that in a few days she could not sing, or would not sing, for she was hasty and passionate to a most extraordinary degree. Affairs were in this state, when one morning her fither received an anonymous letter stating that M. de Vallebreque was a banished and proscribed person. Glad of this reasonable excuse, the signor command- ed that De Vallebreque should never enter the house until he had disproved the accusation. In vain the young officer de- manded an interview in order that he might rebut the charge, which he was conscious he could do to the satisfaction of even the most partial. The signor sent the same answer to every entreaty : when the charge was proved to be false, then — more might be said. Angelica wept, sighed, and, worst of all, was incapable of singing: the only sentence that could be extract- ed from her was a deeply mournful "Ma che bel uffiziale!" At last, Signor Catalani, seeing it was useless to persist, agreed to read Vallebreque's written account of the origin of the transaction alluded to by the anonymous writer. But he chose to be still dissatisfied, though he yielded so far to his daughter's passionate representations that he wrote to Vienna, inquiring into the circumstances. While awaiting the reply, the agony of suspense which the young girl endured was almost beyond her strength. Her father, irascible and impa- tient, Avns furious, and finally, unable to control her feelings be- fore others, Angelica confined herself to her room until the an- ANGELICA CATALANI. 189 swer came. It arrived at length, and fully exculpated De Val- lebreque, whose praise was in the mouth of every one as a spir- ited and noble young man. The count bore him no malice, and was known to speak warmly of his antagonist's high sense of honor. But Signor Catalani still persisted that his family should never be disgraced by an alliance with a banished man. An- gelica, justly indignant at his utter want of feeling, Avithdrew to her own room once more, and, alternately choked with pas- sion and melted to tears, only thought of some means of es- cape. Looking from her window in the gray of the morning, her pale cheeks wet with tears, she perceived a figure standing in the shadow cast by the opposite house. It was her lover, who held up a billet toward her. She quickly formed a rope by tying handkerchiefs together, and drew the letter up ; Val- lebreque then hastily quitted the place. The billet told her, in passionate language, that no one had a right to separate them as betrothed lovers, and urged her to recover her spirits, so as to be enabled to resume her professional duties ; then, as she was a favorite at court, she might throw herself at the feet of the prince and plead their cause, confident of success. Flushed with hope, Angelica astonished her family by suddenly declar- ing herself ready to resume her performances. But papa, as- tute and cautious, suspected that there was some plot, and re- solved to redouble his vigilance. With a firm step and joyful countenance she reappeared on the stage, and was welcomed back with acclamations of de- light. She surpassed herself; but, unluckily, the prince did not appear. The reaction was terrible : she was utterly cast down ; and her father, observing her joy and subsequent lan- guor, flattered himself that he had cleverly prevented a meet- ing between the lovers. Angelica, on reaching her chamber, sat down to think, and soon made up her mind as to what she should do. At break of day she hurriedly stole down the back stairs, wrapped in a cloak belonging to one of the male servants, surmounted by a broad hat with a drooping feather, and with a manly step and a fluttering heart she approached the palace. While pacing slowly to and fro, she was startled by observing a figure which also walked backward and for- ward, v/ith folded arms. It Avas M. do Vallcbreque. Glancing at him from beneath the shelter of her hat, she drew back still 190 QUEENS OF SONG. farther into the shadow of the wall ; an instant's reflection overcame a momentary feeling of distrust, and she hid herself in a niche till he was gone, resolving not to have it said that she came out at that unseemly hour to keep a secret assigna- tion. At last the palace awoke to its daily life, and the restless Angelica went up to one of the doors, to inquire at what time his royal highness took his morning Avalk in his private gar- dens. The servant, somewhat surprised, answered that the prince was then at his villa. Sick, trembling, almost fainting, Angelica paused for a moment; her dearest hopes seemed dashed to the ground, and she felt utterly discouraged. After a moment's thought, her accustomed energy suggested the only course left to her, and she resolved to go at once to the royal villa. She hired a coach, and was driven thither, a distance of some twenty miles. On her name being announced, she read- ily found admittance to the presence of her royal patron. Trembling, faint from fatigue and suppressed emotion, when she found herself with the prince, she was unable to utter a syllable, and could only sink at his feet, until his kind words and offers of service restored her confidence. Then, summon- ing resolution, she told her story simply, and with no attempt at concealment. His hiarhness could not resist an inclination to exercise his wit at the expense of the beautiful cantatrice ; but she was so agitated that her usual naivet^ and power of repartee were utterly gone for the time, and he could not find it in his heart to continue his badinage. He then gravely advised her to relinquish all idea of Vallebreque, though he admitted he could allege nothiiig against the gallant young Frenchman except her fither's disapprobation. But the good- natured prince, touched by the grief and despair of the poor girl, whose white face and trembling frame attested her wretch- edness, assured her that as she had justice and virtue on her side, he would grant her his license for the marriage. Angel- ica, exulting in her success, flew to a dear female friend and dispatched a messenger to inform her parents th.at she was safe, and before they could discover her she had become Ma- dame de Vallebreque, the marriage ceremony being celebrated at the court chapel, in the presence of the prince regent and General Lannes. Papa Catalani was in a towering rage, and vented his anger in no measured terms. De Vallebreque was, ANGELICA CATALANI. 191 however, generous, and, having ascertained that a pretty es- tate in Tuscany was for sale, he invested the first profits of his wife's professional exertions in purchasing it, and presented it to his father-in-law. Angelica, having rendered her maiden name eminent, did not adopt that of her husband in coming before the public. In 1801 she sang at La Scala, in Zingarelli's Clitemnestra, and in the Baccanali di Roma of Nasolini. From Milan she passed to Florence, to Trieste, Rome, and Naples, and was every where admired. She was by nature exceedingly timid, however, and her nervousness unfortunately rendered her gestures somewhat spasmodic, and gave a certain wildness to her eyes in acting ; indeed, her most intimate friends declared that it was as pain- ful to her to appear at the Opera as it was agreeable singing at concerts. The manager of the London Italian Opera, early in 1 806, oflTered Madame Catalani an engagement at a salary of two hundred guineas. She accepted it, but went first to Madrid, where she was received cordially by the queen, under Avhose patronage she gave several concerts, the price of admission to which was four ounces of gold for the principal places, being equal to twenty-one guineas a seat. Then passing into France, she arrived in Paris in April, 1806, sang twice at St. Cloud, and gave three public concerts, each of which produced twen- ty-four thousand francs, the price being trebled on these occa- sions. At the first concert, which took place July 22, Madame Catalani sang two airs from Cimarosa, and an air from the Semiramicle of Portogallo— " Son Rcgina." At the second concert she chose an air from Nasolini's Baccanali dl Roma, and others from the Zaire and Semuxmiide of Portogallo, her favorite composer. At the third concert she added to the preceding morceaux an air of Piccini's — "Se il ciel mi divide." Napoleon, always anxious to surround himself with great artistes, and desirous of diverting the thoughts of his Parisian subjects from matters into which he did not wish them to in- quire too minutely, spared no temptations to induce the Italian cantatrice to remain in the gay capital. He sent for her to the Tuileries, and Catalani, trembling at the idea of an inter- view with the emperor, on entering his apartment, shivered like a ballerina Availing at the wings on a cold night. His im- perial majesty was very gracious. " Oil allcz-vous, madamc ?" 192 QUEENS OE SONG. he asked, smiling. " To London, sire," she replied. " If you will remain in Paris," said he, " I will pay you well, and your talent will be better appreciated. You shall have a hundred thousand francs per annum, and two months for conge. Come, that is settled. Adieu, madame." The cantatrice re- tired, "more dead than alive," from the presence of her brusque interlocutor. She described her interview with the terrible Napoleon as having been la plus grande emotion she had ever experienced in her life. At that time it was customary with vocalists, the Avomen more particularly, to refuse a honorarium^ in the hope that it would be replaced by some bijou of much greater value, a gift from Napoleon being the object of their ambition. Catalan! did not receive this favor, but the emperor made her a present of 5000 francs, with 2. pension of 1200 francs, and allowed her the use of the Opera gratuitously for her concerts. Madame Catalani, anxious to get to London, to which she looked as a rich harvest-field, and regarding the grim Napoleon as the foe of the legitimate king, was determined not to stay. " When at Paris I was denied a passport," she afterward said ; "how- ever, I got introduced to Talleyrand, and, by the aid of a hand- ful of gold, I was put into a government boat, and ordered to lie down to avoid being shot ; and, wonderful to relate, I got over in safety with my little boy seven months old." She em- barked at Morlaix on board a vessel which had been sent for the exchange of prisoners, the captain agreeing to take her for 150 livres. On the 15th of December, 1806, she made her debut in Lon- don, with Signor Siboui, in the serious opera of La Semi- ramide^ composed expressly for her by Portogallo. Her per- sonation of the royal Assyrian was a matchless effort of tragic art. Majestic, beautiful, and queenly, her unparalleled powers literally took the musical world by storm, and " electrified" the audience. The scene where she is supposed to have seen, and to imagine herself pursued by the ghost of Ninus, proved her ability as a tragic actress : she burst upon the stage with a shrill musical shriek, exclaiming "Lascia mi, lascia mi in pace !" and her attitudes, so wild yet so graceful, her look of beautiful horror, were a triumjih of lyric art. And the scene in which Assur and Semiramis mutually taunt each other with the murder of Ninus, and Semiramis blazes forth Avith the ANGELICA CATALANI. 193 bravura, "I am a queen and a wari-ior!" was magnificent. All the resources of her art were lavished upon it : she dropped at once a double octave, and " finally astonished all ears by running the chromatic scale up and down, for the first time within the memory of opera-goers. This achievement sealed her reputation. It was then new, although it has since been repeated to satiety, and even noted down as an obbligato di- vision by Rossini, Meyerbeer, and others. Rounds of applause rewarded this daring exhibition of bad taste." Her extraordi- nary voice created a sensation such as no singer had ever been able to make before. There was one peculiar undulating tone which was admired above all : it was like that of a musical glass. The note which vibrated was believed to be liigher than the highest note on the piano-forte, called by the Italians "la voce di testa," and designated by English amateurs " double falsetto." Catalani, who was the only one known to have sung this note, used it with thrilling eftect. " She ap- peared to make a sort of preparation previous to its utterance, and never approached it by the regular scale. It began with an inconceivably fine tone, which gradually swelled both in volume and power till it ' made the ears vibrate and the heart thrill !' It particularly resembled the highest note of the nightingale, that is reiterated each time more intensely, and which, with a sort of vctriloquisra, seems scarcely to proceed from the same bird that the moment before poured his deli- cious warblings at an interval so disjoined." Mr. Frederick Jones, proprietor of the Dublin Theatre, hear- ing of the extraordinary popularity of Madame Catalani, came to London to offer her an engagement. lie made up a com- pany, consisting of the great prima donna, Signori 3Iorelli, Rovedino, and Deville, with Michael Kelly. There were to be two operas performed — Semiramide, and II I^imatico jJer la Musica. The superb Catalani made her own terms ; or, rather, M. de Vallebreque, who was rather fond of money, made them for her: she was to have a clear half of the receipts of each night's performance. M. de Vallebreque, though rather good-natured, and not particularly bright, was perfectly aware of the money-value of his wife's voice, and determined to use it to the utmost. Conversing one day on the style of Mrs. Salmon's singing, he exclaimed with energy, " Mrs. Salmon, sare, she is as that" — extending the little finger of his left 13 T 194 QUEENS OF SONG. hand, and placing his thumb at tho root of it; "but ma femme! voila! she is that!" stretching out his whole arm at full length, and touching the shoulder-joint with the other hand. ^M. de Vallebreque, however, was wholly ignorant of music, /ilA^imil^ ^a^re^bt«d.'-t»»«W4i^!^sjgw^;sJa^^ nftrt°#viit ijn a liaaSn one morning at rehearsal at the Italian Opera in Paris, when his " femme" complained of the piano. " I can not possibly sing to that piano; I shall crack my voice: the piano is absurdly high." " Do not fret, my dear," interposed the husband, soothingly; "it shall be lowered before evening: I will attend to it myself." Evening came, and the house was cruwded ; but, to the consternation of the cantatrice, the piano- forte was as high as ever. She sang, but the strain was ex- cessive and painful ; and she went behind the scenes in a very bad humor. "Really, my dear," said her lord, "I can not con- ceive of the piano being too high; I had the carpenter in with his saw, and made him take six inches off each leg in my pres- ence !" Madame Catalani, by her unfailing good-humoi', her liberal- ity, and benevolence of heart, won golden opinions. She pos- sessed the very qualities most calculated to gain popularity among the ardent Irish, being not only charitable, but gay and light-hearted, and ever ready to take advantage of the enjoy- ments of the moment. As they were passing through Bangor, she heard a Welsh harp for the first time ; an old blind harper was playing in the kitchen of the house where she was tem- porarily lodging. She listened to him with almost infantine delight, and when he struck up a Welsh jig, unable to restrain her glee, the world-famed prima donna started up before all the servants and danced like a sprite, until, fairly tired out, and panting from exhaustion, she threw the harper two guin- eas, and quitted the kitchen. On her arrival in Dublin she was received with a real Irish cead millefailtha. Crowds assembled at the Rotunda to hear her, and, although the prices were raised to half a guinea for the pit and boxes, and five shillings for the stalls, there was scarcely standing-room, and she was feted and caressed by the best society in Dublin. These concerts were led by Mr. Cooke, a musician of very versatile talent. One morning, at rehearsal, Madame Catalani was so ill with a sick headache that she could not go through her song ; and as the accora- ANGELICA CATALANI. 07 paniment was an extremely difficult one, sbe 1; have it rehearsed by the baud. Cooke asW whicli Madame Catalan! sang, and on receivini one side of his music-desk, having on the otn part, from which he was to play ; and, to tn ment of Madame Catalani and all present, hd at sight correctly, playing at the same time nis u .. - ^ the violin as leader. It was an air by Portogallo, the indiffer- ent composer whom Madame Catalani had brought into fash- ion, and being in manuscript, it had never been out of the can- tatrice's possession, so Cooke could not have seen it before. In her second season in London, Catalaui's salary was raised by her own demand to Jive hundred guineas; and it was cal- culated that in six months she received upward of ten thou- sand pounds, including the Opera, festivals, concerts, and other musical performances. Her brother Guglielmo,*an indifferent performer on an in- strument called the Corno luglcse, or tenor oboe, was brought pver and installed in the Opera band, to the displacement of Griesbach, a German, who had for several years filled the situ- ation with great ability. Dissatisfaction was loudly expressed in the orchestra, and the manager, in an appeal to the public, justly complained that "the best oboe-player in Europe Avas to be turned out to make room for the Avorst." Griesbach, however, condescended to play second oboe, and used abso- lutely to help Guglielmo in difficult passages. On the 19th of January, 1808, Catalani appeared in a new comic opera, Za Frascatana. She sang with " great vigor," after her usual manner, and in the " favorite song" in the sec- ond act she was twice encored. "This double encore after- ward became fi^shionable with regard to the singers, particular- ly at the English Theatre," says Parke in his Miisiccd Memoirs. As none of the celebrated singers who had preceded her, Mara, Banti, Grassini, or Billington, had ever received a similar com- pliment, this double encore appeared incomprehensible till the fact was bruited that Catalani, as part of her contract for that season, had stipulated for the privilege of fifty orders nightly ! These double encores soon ceased at the King's Theatre, but they were a few years afterward resuscitated by Braham at Covent Garden. On the 26th she appeared in the Dido of Paisiello, in which ■^-•5^6 QUEENS OF SONG. opera she gained as much applause for her acting as for her expressive singing. Nasolini's serious opera of La Festa di Iside was produced for her first benefit on April 21st. In this she appeared in male attire as Sesostris, King of Egypt, and the receipts of the house were one thousand pounds. She had a second benefit on June 25th, when the entertainment was II Fanatico per la Musica^ in which she introduced, for the first time, Paisiello's beautiful air, "Nel cor pii\ non mi sento," popularly known in England as " Hope told a flattering tale." Kemble engaged Catalani in 1809, the terras being, it was said, four thousand pounds and two free benefits for the sea- son ; but just at this period people talked loudly against giving opera-singers such enormous salaries, and the public were so enraged that he was obliged to cancel her engagement. For eight years, however, Catalani remained the favorite of the English public, whatever her demands. Her blameless do- mestic life, and her generosity, which often led her to dispose •■ in charity all, or a large portion of, the sum for which she was engaged, secured for her the love of all with whom she camg , in contact ; Avhile those who affected to question her motives | crowded to hear her marvelous voice and Avitness her unrival- ed personations. An outcry was occasionally raised at the immense sums she exacted ; but her husband was more to blame in the matter : he regarded managers as mere bargain- ers for so much marketable talents. In making a contract for her second season, her husband demanded a sum so extrava- gant that the manager, aghast, declared such a salary given » to one vocalist would absolutely disable him from procuring \ any other performers of talent. " Talent !" echoed M. de Val- lebreque ; " have you not Madame Catalani ? What would you have ? If you want a company, my wife, with four or five puppets, is quite sufl[icient !" And, certainly, people no longer went to enjoy the Opera ; they Avent to see and hear Catalani. During the season of 1808, therefore, Madame Catalani had acted with performers who were merely puppets. She ap- peared in operas that were composed expressly for her, in which the part for tlie prima donna was elaborated to display all her best points ; thus she stood alone, the whole attraction of the opera being centred in her. She certainly sang as no singer had ever sung before, with a redundant splendor which dazzled and bewildered. Her facility in inventing graces and ANGELICA CATALANI. 197 ornaments was wonderful in spite of her ignorance, " but she took more satisfaction in producing pleasure through surprise than by any other legitimate method." Trijjlets, arpeggios, chromatic passages, were run through with a dexterity which astonished her hearers — a dexterity which " seemed rather the effect of the natural aptitude of genius than of study and la- bor." She was, in truth, far more clever in running through her introduced bits of brilliant ornament than she was in sing- ing the roulades set down for her by the composer. So far inferior was she to both Mara and Billington in point of sci- ence, that musical performers wondered " how she could pos- sibly dare so much and succeed so well." With regard to her elocution in singing, " she was articulate, forcible, and power- fid; occasionally light, pleasing, and playful, but never awfully grand or tenderly touching to the degree that the art may be c:irried." Her marvelous strains seemed to distant auditors poured forth with the fluent ease of a bird, but those who were near saw that her efforts were so great as to "call into full and violent action the muscular powers of the head, throat, and chest." In the execution of rapid passages the under jaw was in a continual state of agitation, " in a manner, too, gen- erally thought incompatible with the production of pure tone from the chest, and inconsistent with a legitimate execution. This extreme motion was also visible during the shake, which Catalani used sparingly, however, and with little effect." In addition to appearing at the Opera, Catalani sang at the Ancient Concerts and other musical entertainments. Her chief defect in sacred music was a want of tenderness and pa- thos : "she sometimes awed, but she never warmed or melted the heart." She could not give to the sublime music of the oratorio the impressive meaning which Mara imparted. In such pieces as "Holy, holy Lord," and "I know that my Re- deemer Hveth," she never awoke feelings of devotion in the breast, though she possessed strong religious sentiments, and never entered a theatre without offering up a prayer for her success. This habit at one time led to the circulation of a spiteful anecdote. She was observed, when behind the scenes of the King's Theatre, before making her entree on the stage, to repeat to herself a prayer from a missal, and then, giving the book to her attendant, to devoutly make the sign of the cross ere presenting herself to her expectant audience. The V 198 QUEENS OF SONG. volume, it was declared, was lettered on the back Metastasio ; but the story contradicts itself; for if Catalan! played such a farce, she would not have allowed herself to be detected through such an oversight. The difference between her style and that of her two great predecessors was, it appears to us, purely mental. The mind and the emotions exercise a powerful influence over the voice, however unconsciously. "It is the soul that sings." Listen to a child, who does not think of disguising emotion ; the cry of joy, the whimper of disappointment, or the scream of fear; what a variety, nay, Avhat a totally different tone in each. It is a most painful efibrt to endeavor to sing while the voice is choked with tears, and it is delightful to carol under the influ- ence of happiness. If the mind is discontented, the voice nat- urally becomes querulous ; and a joyous heart will indubita- bly testify itself in a cheerful intonation ; indeed, there are those who profess to read character by the tone of the voice. The secret of Catalani's inferiority to her great rivals was to be found in the simple fact that she had not suffered. Mara had sufiered deeply, wounded in the tenderest feelings of a woman's nature. Billington had sufiered in a lesser de- gree, and she expressed feeling less intensely. But Catalani! Petted from childhood, adored by the man she loved, passion- ately beloved by her children, almost worshiped by shouting multitudes, every whim gratified by the princes and great ones of the earth, and her days passed in a succession of triumphs, how was she to pour forth the thrilling tones which express musical pathos ? To have the power of drawing tears, we must have shed them. To reach the heart, to awaken the sympathies of a crowd, each one of whom has, more or less, sufiered, is a gift acquired only by the sad experience which enables the mind to enter into the spirit of ideal sorrows. The immense volume of Catalani's voice was not liked by some. Queen Charlotte, being asked her opinion, replied with German emphasis, " I was wishing for a little cotton in my ears all the time." The predominating impression on the mind was its overpowering, almost terrific loudness. " When rushing i;p the scale, every note seems to increase in force till the melody is lost," says one critic, "and the ear is positively pained by the strain upon its auditory nerve. There is no terra in the vocabulary of music to convey an adequate idea ANGELICA CATALANI. 199 of the excess of loudness." Some wit was asked if he would go to York to hear her. " I shall hear her better where I am," he answered. By 1812 the public had acquired such a taste for the music of Mozart, that Catalan! was obliged to give way to the fash- ion, though she disliked the works of that great composer, be- cause, when singing his music, she was forced to attend to time, and was kept under the control of the orchestra. She appeared in two of his operas — as Vitellia in La Clemenza di Tito, and as Susanna in Le Nozze di Figaro, and sang the mu- sic of both parts exquisitely. Arch, lively, piquant as the waiting- woman ; lofty, impassioned, haughty, and grand, as the patrician dame of ancient Rome, she adapted her express- ive countenance to both: in serious opera she was majestic and forcible ; in comic, natural, playful, and graceful. Mrs. Dickons performed the Countess Almaviva, and in some scenes she almost rivaled the magnificent Italian. Tramraezzani, the delightful tenor, who had arrived in England a few seasons previously, refused the part of Count Almaviva, because he considered it beneath his dignity to appear in comic opera! In La Clemenza di Tito, the part of Sesto, written for a so- prano voice, was taken by Trammezzani. He was very hand- some, and had a voice of the sweetest quality, " of that rich, touching Cremona tone peculiar to the ItaUans," and was, withal, full of animation and feeling. In 1813, the last season of her regular engagement on the Opera stage, Madame Catalani began to push her habit of de- viating from the beaten track of art to a pitch of folly that was unendurable to those who appreciated pure music. Vari- ations for the violin on " God save the King," " Rule Britan- nia," " Cease your funning," and other English songs, became her chief repertoire, and were received with delight and amaze- ment by the general public. She was idolized by those who cared only for gratifying the idle curiosity of the moment. The card on which were inscribed the words of" God save the King" for Madame Catalani to sing was a curiosity. The fol- lowing version of the words was supposed to make them more easy for her to pronounce them : "O Lord avar God, Arais, schaetar Is cncmis, and 200 QUEENS OF SONG. Mece them fol. Confond tear Politekse, frosstre Tear nevise trix, On George avar hopes We fix, God save te Kin." In the beginning of tlii^ season, her salary having fallen into arrears, her husband advised her not to appear till it was paid ; accordingly, one night — the 1st of June — she chose not to at- tend the theatre. The audience, exasperated, raised a furious uproar, which was long remembered as one of the most extra- ordinary in all its circumstances that had ever been known. Enrico IV. had been announced ; it was a Saturday night, and the house was crowded. There was no other announcement except one on the bills, stating simply that Madame Catalan! had withdrawn from the theatre. The opera which had been substituted having been gone through amid a hurricane of clamor, the ballet commenced, amid the hisses of some, the cries of many, and the inattention of the majority, the galler- ies alone seeming inclined for quiet. The pit had filled at half price, and the riot soon became portentous. The first mutter- ings of the coming tempest Avere perceptible in the shaking of a side-scene, which alarmed a child ensconced in a basket of osiers and laurels, and who jumped out and ran away. The audience at once became aware that there was a disturbance behind the scenes, and the ballet-girls looked toward the scuf- fle with affright. The guard were trying to prevent some per- sons from rushing on to the stage, which in an instant was cov- ered with gentlemen, who, from the general mourning for the Duchess of Brunswick, presented a very sombre asj^ect. The dancers immediately withdrew, the utmost confusion ensued, and the curtain was dropped ; but some of the invading gen- tlemen came before it, and strutted about, flourishing their canes, and waving laurels, the spoliation of the stage. The cur- tain, being apparently in danger, was again raised, and the con- fusion became frightful ; cries for the manager, shrieks of ap- plause for the bold invaders ; cries of " Off! off!" were min- gled with yells, howls, groans, and hisses. At length a person came forward, and having with difficulty obtained a temporary silence, said that every thing should be done to satisfy the no- bility and gentry ; but he was told that nothing would satisfy ANGELICA CATALANI. 201 them but the appearance of Catalani. He then retired, and the soldiers made their way ou the stage and formed in line, when an attack was instantly directed on a few who were sep- arated from their comrades, and the rioters endeavored to wrest their arms from them. The most fatal results were feared, but the forbearance of the soldiers was most praise- worthy. The gentlemen seized the muskets, drew out and flourished the bayonets, and then flung the fire-arms into the orchestra among the lamps and desks. The soldiers were then withdrawn. The musicians had fled early in the aff"ray, with every violin, bassoon, and trombone, and all the music-books. A ludicrous scene ensued : the valiant beaux were all lounging over the side-boxes, shaking hands with the ladies, or bowing to those above who showed their approbation. First Mr. Kin- naird and then John Kemble came forward to make speeches, which were hailed with ironical plaudits; and at last the fa- mous Romeo Coates started up and made one of his absurd orations, which dispersed the audience. Toward the close of this season several good singers ap- peared ; but Catalani's insatiate desire to be the alpha and omega of the operatic world induced her to behave in such an intolerable manner toward them that half the company quitted the King's Theatre, and established themselves at the Pan- theon, which had been rebuilt. Signora Bertinotti, Signora Colliui, tlie two Cauvinis, the aged Morelli, and a few others, formed the troupe, with Miss Stephens, the charming English debutante. Unfortunately the license of the place was only for intermezzos, or operas of one act, and dancing without bal- lets of action, therefore the performances did not prove very attractive. IMoreover, a report was industriously circulated and published in the newspapers, with the attestation of an ar- chitect, that the external walls, shaken by fire, were unequal to supporting the new roof which had been erected upon them, and that the building was unsafe. The entertainments conse- quently ceased, and the company dispersed. The public were dissatisfied with having Catalani and noth- ing but Catalani ; but the managers were unable, because of her exorbitant demands and her unwarrantable jealousy, to en- gage any other vocalists. She offered to purchase the theatre, intending to become thus sole proprietor, sole manager, and sole performer ; but she fortunately foiled in this, for she would 12 202 QUEENS OF SONG. probably have finished by becoming sole auditor. Her rela- tions with tbe director became each day more embittered, and. she feared to disgust the public altogether ; she therefore re- paired to Paris, to join in the festivities consequent on the en- try of the Alhes, having realized fifty thousand pounds. On arriving in Paris in 1814, she found herself supremely popular, on account of her acknowledged antipathy to Napo- leon and her sympathy with the king. On the 4th of Febru- ary, 1815, she gave a grand concert at the Opera House for the benefit of the poor. During the Hundred Days she followed Louis XVHI. to Ghent : she had become known to the king in England, and now made her house at Ghent a resort for the most illustrious emigres. After a second sojourn in Paris, she made a tour through Holland and Belgium. On her return to Paris, Louis XVHI., flattered by the devotion Madame Cata- lani always professed for his cause, bestowed on her the priv- ilege of the Italian theatre, with a grant of 160,000 francs. She established her company in the Salle Favart, and commenced operations with vigor ; but two things militated against her success as a manager — her own desire for supi'eme power, and her husband's greed of money : she must reign alone, without a rival. The consequence was that she not only found herself , obliged to precipitately relinquish her dangerous post, but lost / 500,000 francs of her fortune, and also the good graces of the Parisians. With the hope of retrieving her losses, she commenced a tour through Europe. In 1816 she gave seven concerts in Berlin, the price of the tickets being three thalers. She gave an eighth in the church, for the poor, tickets being one thaler and a half Every concert was crowded ; the building was so full that there was scarce standing-room, and the directors received more than 5000 thalers. In 1817 she visited Venice, the scene of her earliest triumphs ; indeed, she sang in almost every town on the Continent, accompanied by her husband, her pupil Miss Corri, and a very bad tenor named Bolaffi. Every where she was received with the most extraordinary delight ; she was petted by princes of the blood royal, and loaded with gorgeous presents, jewels, medals, and testimo- nials. The King of Prussia wrote her an autograph letter of compliment, accompanied by the grand medal of the Academy; the Emperor of Austria presented her with a superb ornament ANGELICA CATALANI. 203 of opals and diamonds ; while the magistracy of Vienna, in Ipken of their gratitude for her munificence to the charitable institutions of that capital, struck a medal in her honor. Even sovereign princes paid her the most obsequious attentions : the Grand-Duke of Darmstadt took his seat in the orchestra of the theatre as leader of the band in honor of her genius, and her name was among the last words uttered by the dying King of Wirtemberg. Fabulous sums were paid for her perform- ances, and crowds assembled to listen to her marvelous, though now unmeaning exhibitions. She had such an overweening idea of her own gifts, that her self-conceit was laughable. When she visited Hamburg for the first time in 1819, M. Schevenke, the chief musician of that city, criticized her vocal feats with great severity ; Madame Catalani, on being told of this, shrug- ged her shoulders, and called him " an impious man," " For," she said, with a droll naivete, " when God has given to a mor- tal so extraordinary a talent as I possess, people ought to ap- plaud and hoiior it as a miracle : it is profane to depreciate the gifts of Heaven !" In private society she was cordially welcomed, and acquitted herself vei'y well ; but occasionally her ignorance of what every bod-v else was intimate with, led her into somewhat ludicrous predicaments. Dining one evening at the court of Weimar, she was seated beside the great poet Goethe, as a mark of re- spect on the part of her royal host. Knowing nothing of Goethe, but remarking his majestic appearance and the uni- versal attention which he received, she inquired carelessly of the gentleman on the other side what was his name. "The celebrated Goethe, raadame," was the reply. " Pray, on what instrument does he play?" "He is no performer, madame — he is the renowned author of TFeri'e?'." " Oh yes, yes, I remem- ber," she said ; then turning to the venerable poet, she ad- dressed him in her vivacious manner. "Ah ! sir, what an ad- mirer I am ofWe)'terP^ Flattered by her evident sincerity and ardor, the poet bowed profoundly. "I never," continued she, in the same lively strain, " I never read any thing half so laughable in all my life. What a capital farce it is, sir !" The poet, astounded, could scarcely believe the evidence of his eai'S. " 77ie Sorrows qfWerter a farce !" he murmured, faintly. " Oh yes, never was any thing so exquisitely ridiculous," rejoined Catalani, with a ringing burst of laughter ; for she remember- 204 QUEENS OF SONG. ed the absurd parody ofWerter, which had been performed at one of the mmor theatres of Paris, and in which the sentiment|f of Goethe's work had been turned into the most ludicrous bur- lesque. Mortified and disconcerted, jjoor Goethe did u6t re- cover himself the entire evening, and Catalan! was regarded with less respect during the remainder of her stay at the court ofWeimar. In August, 1817, she reappeared in Paris in II Fanatico per la Ifusica, at the Theatre Italien, and was warmly welcomed. All the boxes were retained long before the night of her rentree, the I'Zth. She appeared subsequently in II Matrimonio Se- greto, Cosl fan Tutte, Le Cantatrici Villane, II 3Iatrimonio per Maggiro^ Semiramis (with Garcia, Mdlle. Berajter, and BenelIi),i'Zto?mwa inAlgieri, La /Sposa Stravagante (in which she performed Lindora), la Principessa in Gampagno^ and Mithridate^ in which last she performed Monime, and Tram- mezzani Mithridates. There were two grand concerts during the season : the first in November, when Catalani sang " Gra- tias agimus," accompanied on the clarionet by M.Dacosta, and two airs by Pucitta and Mozart ; the second took place at the close of the season, in December. Madame Catalani returned to England in 1821, and in the winter of 1821-22 made a tour through the country, visiting Bath, Bristol, Glasgow, Edinburgh, York, and other places. At Bath she gained nearly five hundred pounds, while the con- ductor, Mr. Ashe, was a loser of two hundred ; at Bristol she made the same, the conductor just escaping loss; at Glasgow the receipts were £2300, and the payments £2100, of which Catalani received £760, Mrs. Salmon, £260, Braham, £250 ; so that, if no minor expenses were defrayed, there remained only £200 for the charity in behalf of which the concerts were held. In 1822 Catalani undertook a series of concerts, which were at- tended by unpward of a thousand persons, the orchestra being itself always crowded with auditors. At these concerts she introduced a splendid song, " Delia superba Roma," by the Marquis Sampieri, " which electrified the audience." At a re- hearsal at the Argyll Rooms, the younger Linley was so aston- ished by the grandeur with which this song burst from her lips, that he forgot his own part, and played a wrong note ; Catalani turned and made some severe remark to him, when, overcome by his emotions, he fell from his seat in a swoon. ANGELICA CATALANI. 205 After her English and Scottish tour she went again on the Continent. At St. Petersburg, in 1823, slie was unprecedent- edly popular, and realized about fifteen thousand guineas in four months. There being no concert-room sufficiently large to accommodate the crowds that flocked to hear her, she chose the public Exchange for the scene of her concluding concert, when there were more than four thousand persons present. The large receipts of that evening were devoted by her to re- lieving two hundred unfortunate families in Russia; for this, Alexander thanked her before his court, he and the empress embraced her at parting, and loaded her with regal ornaments, among which a girdle of diamonds was conspicuous. Madame Catalani was engaged by Mr. AVaters for the King's Theatre in 1824 for a certain number of nights. She made her reappearance in Mayer's comic opera II Fanatico per la Mu- seca, converted into a mere vehicle for the display of her vocal tours deforce^ almost all the music being mutilated to make room for her show pieces. She did not think it worth while to keep up even a pretense of sustaining a part, but walked on and off the stage, hardly acknowledging the presence of those who had the misfortune to sing with her. A crowded audi- ence assembled to welcome her, and so touched was she by the ovation that she could not conceal her emotion. It was no- ticed that there was a " slight embarrassment and incertitude" in her manner, Avhich was attributed to her having for so long a time discontinued to appear in opera ; and it was not till the second night of her appeai'ance that she recovered her self-pos- session, when she surpassed herself in the transcendent power of her performance. Mesdames Caradori and Ronzi de Begnis performed with her in this opera, Avith Curioni and Signer de Begnis. It was agreed that she had wonderfully improved in one re- spect since she last sung in opera: her voice was more re- splendent than ever ; its tones were so powerful that the hear- er needed to be at a distance to enjoy them. But, alas ! in that very power were tokens of the destroying hand of time ; the " fragrance" of her tone, as one critic termed it, had in some degree evaporated. It was compared to a copper-gilt vessel from which some of the gilding has worn off — or, rather, it was like a piano-forte, the hammers of which are grown hard by use. In her appearance, too, she had altered, but fiivorably : 206 QUEENS OF SONG. always, the handsomest woman in Europe, she had become, by an accession of embonpoint, more beautiful and majestic. On the stage and in society, her popularity for the time was un- bounded ; and she achieved a little triumph about this period which must have been highly gratifying to her, satiated as she was by the plaudits of the greatest in the land. When Cap- tain Montague was cruising off Brighton, she was invited, with some other ladies, to a fete on board his frigate, and the ladies were escorted on board by the captain in a boat manned by twenty men. On the way to the ship the prima donna sud- denly burst forth with her pet song, "Rule Britannia." The sailors, taken by surprise, rested on their oars to listen, and tears sprang to the eyes of more than one weather-beaten old tar. " You see, raadame," said the captain, " the effect this fa- vorite air has upon these brave men, when sung by the finest voice in the world, . I have been in many victorious battles, but never felt any excitement equal to this." On arriving on board, the sailors entreated her to sing the air once more, a request which she readily complied with, and the gallant tars, on her quitting the ship in the evening, cheered her until she reached the shore. At first the public applauded her to the echo ; but soon her hearers began to weary of the reiterated extravagances of her style of singing, and the enthusiasm at length died out. Night after night the audience grew thinner at the Opera House, and at last she retreated from the stage, and restricted herself to the concert-room, where she sought only to make a display of vocal feats. Her deportment was changed equally with her style and her person ; all was exaggeration ; her style had be- come a caricature of its former grandeur. "When she begins one of the interminable roulades up the scale," says a writer in Knight's Quarterly Magazine, " she gradually raises her body, which she had before stooped to almost a level with the ground, until, having won her way with a quivering lip and chattering chin to the very topmost note, she tosses back her head and all its nodding feathers with an air of triumph ; then suddenly falls to a note two octaves and a half lower with in- credible aplomb, and smiles like a victorious Amazon over a conquered enemy." A throng of flatterers joined in encoura- ging her in all her defects. " No sooner does Catalani quit the orchestra," says the same writer, " than she is beset by a host ANGELICA CATALANI. 207 of foreign sycophants, who load her with exaggerated praise. I Avas present at a scene of this kind in the refreshment-room at Bath, and heard reiterated on all sides, 'Ah! madame, la derniere fois toujours la meilleure !' Thus is poor Madame Catalaui led to strive to excel herself every time she sings, un- til she exposes herself to the ridicule most pi'obahly of those very flatterers ; for I hftve heard that on the Continent she is mimicked by a man dressed in female attire, who represents, by extravagant terms and gestures, Madame Catalani surpass- ing herself"* Occasionally, however, she showed that her genius had not forsaken her. Her singing of Luther's Hymn is thus described by an appreciative listener. " She admits in this grandly simple composition no ornament whatever but a pure shake at the conclusion. The majesty of her sustained tones, so rich, so ample as not only to fill, but overflow the cathedral where I heard her — the solemnity of her manner, and the St. Cecilia-like expression of her raised eyes and rapt countenance, produced a thrilling efiect through the miited medium of sight and hearing. Whoever has heard Catalani sing this, accom- panied by Schmidt on the trumpet, has heard the utmost that music can do. Then in the succeeding chorus, when the same awful words, ' The trumpet sounds ; the graves restore the dead which they contained before,' are repeated by the whole choral strength, her voice, piercing thi-ough the clang of in- struments and the burst of other voices, is heard as distinctly as if it were alone ! During the encore I found my way to the top of a tower on the outside of the cathedral, and could still distinguish her wonderful voice." But this was a rare exception. Her excessive love of orna- ment proved a fatal stumbling-block, and ruined the beauty of this matchless voice. She cared for no simple air. Her delight was to take a bold and spirited piece, such as " Non pill andrai," even when written for a bass voice, in which she could bear down and overpower by sheer force of lungs the brazen instruments of the orchestra, amid rapturous thunders * In 1825 a German singer named Keller created a great sensation at Dresden in the part of "Die Falsche Katalani" (the False Catalani), where- in his extraordinary falsetto was called most effectually into plav in the im- itation of the distinguished Italian. The manner in which he imitated the various styles of Italian singing, and especially the laborious fidelity with which he gave the well-known variations by Rode as executed by Catalani, was absolutely marvelous. 208 QUEENS OF SONG. of applause. She preferred the music of tlie most inferior com- posers, written expressly for her, to the most exquisite pro- ductions of the greatest masters, which w^as greatly to be re- gretted, for all agreed that she could have become a perfect performer had her noble gifts been guided by sound taste and judgment. She had a peculiar facility in running chromatic passages, placing on each note a trill which scintillated like a diamond in limpid water ; she excelled in effects of contrast — now loud as an organ, then soft and penetrating as the lowest notes of the nightingale ; and her skill in "jumping" over tw^o octaves at once, her rapidity in divisions, and the almost super- natural volume of tone which her throat was capable of throw- ing forth, created an increasing w'onder. Her fantastical luxu- riance and redundancy, her reckless daring, her defiance of all rules, disgusted connoisseurs as much as it astounded and charmed the multitude. In Paris, the epigrams of the day designated her voice "I'instrument Catalani." "Whenever I hear such an outrageous display of execution," said Mount Edgecumbe, " I never fail to recollect, and cordially join in, the opinion of a late noble statesman, more famous for his wit than for his love of music, who, hearing a remark on the ex- treme difficulty of some performance, observed that he wished that it was impossible." But, unfortunately for the soundness of his musical taste, this nobleman (Lord North) was the in- dividual who, when asked why he did not subscribe to the Ancient Concerts, and reminded that his brother, the Bishop of Winchester, did, replied, " Oh, if I was as deaf as my broth- er, I would subscribe too." Although she began to give dissatisfaction to the critics, the public were as faithful as ever to Catalani, and she made enor- mous sums. But she was very generous in affording help to others. At a concert given by Mr. Loder, of Bath, a most talented musician, distinguished for his skill as a violinist and a leader, Madame Catalani sang under an engagement at a large fee, and the concert Avas completely successful ; but she refused to accept the sum stipulated for, relinquishing it as a mark of her esteem for the ability and general merit of the worthy conductor. When she performed for a benefit, she would frequently return the whole, or a large portion, of the amount for which she was engaged, and she was very liberal toward public charities. On the occasion of a great musical ANGELICA CATALANI. 209 performance for the benefit of the Westminster Hospital in 1821, she was solicited to contribute her services, but replied that, were she to do so, she would injure her own concerts : yet, on the day of her first concert, she transmitted to the com- mittee, as a gift, about three hundred pounds, the proceeds of her performance. She sang for Kelly on one occasion, but did not realize much for him, as the crowd was so great that the doors were broken down and the pit crammed to suffocation with non-paying visitors : the return in money was only twen- ty-five pounds. The unlucky beueficiaire made a request that the price of admission should be sent to the box-ofiice the next day by those who entered without paying, but not a single person responded to this appeal. In May, 1824, her own concerts drew very large audiences: curiosity, and a rumor that the concerts would not exceed tliree or four, and that after their termination the enchantress would be heard no more, conduced to render the sale of tickets rapid: the first four nights there were more than a thousand sold. On the first night the audience began to assemble more than an hour before the doors Avere open, and the room filled in two minutes, the orchestra even being filled with ladies and gentlemen, the musicians retiring behind. Each night Ma- dame, Catalan! sang four songs in various styles. At the end of February, 1825, she commenced a series of fortnightly con- certs, conducted by Mr. P. Cianchettini. The first was but thinly attended, but afterward the Argyll Rooms were crowd- ed to excess. Mrs. Salmon and Mr. Sapio were the principal coadjutors, with the occasional assistance of M. Begrez and other performers ; and one evening Signor Pistrucci, the cele- brated iniprovisatore, appeared. Catalani herself sang six pieces every evening, comprehending all stales, from " Ilonie, sweet home," and "Rule Britannia," to "Gratias agimus," and Mr. Cianchettini's Mazurka. In 1825 she visited Paris, and appeared in the &alU Clery ; but the taste of the Parisians had been purified by Fodor and Pasta, and they did not care any longer for Catalani. In other cities on the Continent she was received with more fa- vor. In 1827, Charles John of Sweden conducted her through the Royal Museum at Stockholm himself, Avhen two magnifi- cent vases of porphyry attracted her notice and admiration; some time after, a similar pair was forwarded to her at Paris U 210 QUEENS OE SONG. by the gallant prince, who deemed twenty thousand francs a not too costly tribute to the enchanting singer. In the sum- mer of 1827 she sang in Berlin, where she did not hesitate to appear in rivalry with the young and fresh vocalist Sontag. Returning to England in the summer of that year, she was engaged at extravagant salaries to sing at various musical fes- tivals. At Derby there was much apprehension as to the state of her voice and execution, as, considering the sum she received, her engagement there was looked on as a failure. And it was found that " the liquidity of her tone had given way to the force of effort." Her evening songs were gener- ally miserable effusions, to which, wisely, no composer's name was affixed, and her sacred singing was totally unlike what it had been : in " Holy, holy Lord," she wandered far from the pitch, and disfigured the Messiah by the introduction of "Gratias agimus." At York she was offered the sum of six hundred guineas for her services, or rather for the sake of her name, for she Avas unable to maintain her reputation. The critics dropped many hints, urging that it would be the most judicious, as well as the most dignified course, to retire ; and she did retire altogether in 1831, and went to reside on a noble estate near the Lago di Como, where she built a beauti- ful villa. Three children, two of whom were born in England, and one in Paris, had blessed the happy union of Angelica and her " bel uffiziale." Her daughter (Madame Vivie) and her eldest son, who adored their mother, lived at home ; the sec- ond son, being in the army, was very much with his regiment: this young man afterward became equerry to Napoleon HI. Madame Catalani founded, in the vicinity of her home, a school of gratuitous instruction in singing for young girls, where they had lodging, board, and clothing, and at the end of a certain time of instruction engagements were obtained for the pupils. One of the stipulations exacted of the scholars was rather curious — that on quitting the establishment at the expiration of their term they should add to their family name that of Catalani. The first singer among them who became known was Signora Maselli-Catalani, who appeared at Paris. Some years after the retirement of the great songstress, Mrs, Trollope, then on a tour through Italy, visited her. " Nothing could be more amiable than the reception she gave us." She expressed a great admiration and love for the En- ANGELICA CATALANI. ' 211 glish. Her beauty was little injured. "Her eyes and teeth are still magnificent," says Mrs. Trollope, " and I am told that when seen in evening full dress by candle-light, no stranger can see her for the first time without inquiring who that charming-looking woman is." Mrs. Trollope hinted to Mdlle. de Vallebreque that she would like to hear her mother sing ; ancLin a moment Madame Catalani was at the piano, smiling at the whispered request from her daughter. " I know not what it was she sang, but scarcely had she permitted her voice to swell into one of those bravura passages, of which her execu- tion was so very peculiar and so perfectly unequaled, than I felt as if some magic process was being performed ujDon me, which took me back again to something — I know not what to call it — which I had neither heard nor felt for nearly twenty years. Involuntarily, unconsciously, my eyes filled with teai*s, and I felt as much embarrassed as a young lady of fifteen might be, who suddenly found herself in the act of betraying emotions which she was far indeed from wishing to display." WilHam Gardiner visited Madame Catalani in 1846. "I was surprised at the vigor of Madame Catalani," he says, " and how little she was altered since I saw her at Derby in 1828. I paid her a compliment upon her good looks. ' Ab !' said she, ' I'm grown old and ugly.' I would not allow it. ' Why, man,' she said, 'I'm sixty-six !' She has lost none of that com- manding expression which gave her such dignity on the stage. She is without a wrinkle, and appears to be no more than forty. Her breadth of chest is still remarkable : it was this which endoAved her with the finest voice that ever sang. Her speaking voice and dramatic air are still charming, and not in the least impaired." For about five years before Madame Catalani's death, re- ports of her decease, and of the gigantic fortune she was sup- posed to have left, were continually appearing in the papers. In 1844 it was said that she had died worth £382,000, and that she had lost her husband in 1838; a report which was laughed over at a dinner by herself, M. de Vallebreque, and a party of friends. In 1848, the cholera breaking out with vio- lence in the neighborhood of Florence, Catalani took refuge in Paris with her children, and while residing here she heard Jenny Lind at a concert given by Lord Normanby. Some days after the entertainment she was sitting alone, when a 212 QUEENS OF SONG. strange lady called on her. The visitor refused to give her name, but was ushered into the room, Catalani rose, and the strano-er advanced timidly. She was young, not handsome, but with an expressive face, over which played a most agree- able smile. " I am Jenny Lind, madame," she said, after a little preliminary dialogue. " I am come for your blessing." It was s;iven. They never met again, for Catalani was carded off in a few days by the remorseless epidemic from which she had fled. She died ou the 12th of June, at the age of sixty- nine. JOSEPHIXE MAINVILLE FODOR. 213 CHAPTER XVI. ' JOSEPHINE MAINVILLE FODOE. Josephine Fodor was the daughter of Joseph Fodor, a forgotten composer of some taleut. She was born, 1V93, in Paris, and soon after her father obtained an engagement at St. Petersburg. Of her early life and musical training, all that we know is that she made her formal debut in 1810 in the Imperial Theatre, in the Cantatrici ViUane of Fioravanti, in which she appeared seventy times. She was nineteen when M. Mainville, an actor attached to the Theatre Franyais in the service of the court of Russia, offered her his hand, and they were married. But, unluckily for the young couple, the Em- peror Alexander chose to suppress the troupes of foreign per- formers at this period, and the pair were obliged to seek their fortune elsewhere. Madame Mainville Fodor gained an oppor- tunity of singing at Stockholm and at Copenhagen ; then she went to Paris, where she made her ajjpearance in 1814, at the Oj)era Comique. When Madame Catalani, in 1815, commenced her unfortunate speculation at the Salle Favart, Madame Fo- dor was engaged with Garcia, Crivelli, Porto, and other per- formers. The jealous directress, unable to tolerate rivals, soon disgusted the artistes whom she had engaged, and they simul- taneously threw up their engagements and came to London. The season of 1810 at the King's Theatre was long remem- bered as a brilliant one: it introduced Madame Vestris and Madame Fodor to the English public, and was successful as regarded performers, performances, and receipts. Mr. Ayrton, to whom the management had been committed by Waters, the proprietor, had gathered together a company composed of Spanish, French, Italian, and English vocalists. The other leading singers were Mesdames Camporese and Pasta, Crivelli, Begrez, Naldi, Angrisani, and Ambrogetti. On the iTth of January Madame Fodor made her first court- esy to a British audience in her favorite opera Griselda. She had come almost unheralded, for the frequenters of the King's 214 QUEENS OP SONG. Theatre knew very little of her until they saw her name an- nounced. She displayed great sweetness of voice and delica- cy of expression, and the public and the critics were equally pleased. Her second part was that of Ceres, in Winter's op- era, in which she completely gained the favor of the public. A great excitement was caused by the production of Mo- zart's serious opera, La Clemenza di Tito, on March 2d. Bra- ham, who had been announced from the beginning of the sea- son, appeared, after an absence of ten years from the stage of the King's Theatre. When he entered on the scene, he " show- ed some signs of diffidence," owing, probably, to his not hav- ing met the opera audience for so long a time ; and some slight marks of disapprobation were heard, but they were overpow- ered by the plaudits of his friends and the public. Madame Fodor was greatly admired in this opera. She took, however, some very unwarrantable liberties with the part, and particu- larly desired to commence with a song, in which she antici- pated making a great impression, but which the composer had placed at the end of the second act. Ayrton objected that this was absurd, since in the song the heroine, being exiled, bids adieu to her friends, so the transposition would have the effect of making the farewell precede the banishment. But Madame Fodor persisted, and appealed to Signer Yestris, then poet of the King's Theatre, who said that the change was of no consequence, as the unity of the opera had long been com- pletely ruined on the Continent. Ayrton indignantly respond- ed that if the opera was spoiled abroad, that was no reason why it should be injured in England. Madame Fodor, how- ever, applied to the directors of the theatre, and obtained from them a written permission to do as she liked. Crivelli did the same with some of his music in this unlucky opera. Mozart's far-famed opera, Le Nozze di Figaro^ was produced June 2 2d, to the great delight of the musical world. Perhaps Madame Fodor was never heard to more advantage than in this masterpiece ; all her songs and her duets were executed with extreme purity, delicacy, and expression. Levasseur was a sardonic-looking Almaviva, and, though he sang excellently, he yet made love like a cynic, which did not please the audi- ence. Naldi and Madame Vestris were admirable. The the- atre closed August 10th, after a most prosperous season, to the pecuniary success of which the numerous officers, naval and JOSEPHINE MATNVILLE EODOR. 215 military, who had come home, and the multitude of foreigners which the peace had permitted to roam through England in quest of pleasure, iu no small degree contributed. In 1817 a spirited attempt was made by Mr. Ayrton to ef- fect some important reforms in the administration of the the- atre. He endeavored to break through the trammels and tyr- anny of the singers and dancers, and to present the public with the masterpieces of the great German and Italian composers; but he met with numerous and insurmountable obstacles, and, like too many other reformers, failed. The performers were the same as in the preceding year, and the theatre was opened on the 11th of January with Griselda. Madame Fodor per- formed Avith much pathos, and the delicacy and purity of her singing were fully appreciated. Madame Pasta appeared in the opera, and rendered powerful support to Madame Fodor. The Nbzze di Figaro was next produced, Ambrogetti person- ating the Count with great success. Madame Fodor was the Countess ; Madame Camporese, Susanna ; Madame Pasta, the Page; and ISTaldi, Figaro. Such a cast left nothing to be de- sired. The success of the Figaro induced Mr. Ayrton to bring for- ward Don Giovanni^ the triumphant success of which forms an era in the history of the theatre. Madame Fodor made a charming Zerlina ; the lightness and delicacy of her expres- sion, the simplicity, sweetness, and tenderness of her acting, were universally admitted. Ambrogetti, though not distin- guished for his attainments as a singer, threw into his perform- ance of Don Giovanni so much fire and animation, that the popularity of the opera was established. Madame Camporese performed Donna Anna, and Naldi was a very lively Leporello. The scenery also was beautiful. During this season Madame Fodor sang at the Concerts of Ancient Music on alternate nights with Madame Camporese. In 1818 Madame Fodor was again engaged at the King's Theatre. The season opened with Paer's Griselda, in which Madame Fodor had made her first appearance in England, and the part was well Adapted to her talent. "If wanting. the sweetness, mellowness, and expression of an Italian," says one critic, " her voice is marvelous for a French voice ; she is never outrageous, never urges her tones into clamor, or her visage into convulsions; seldom degenerates into the commonplace 216 QUEEXS OF SOXG. of that contortion wbich the French call a smile." Paisiello's sweet but feeble *pera, La Molinara^ was next produced. Fodor personated the Miller's Maid, a class of character much better suited to her talents than tragic heroines. Le Nozze di Figaro was performed again this season, Madame Fodor ex- changing the part of the Countess for that of Susanna; and, with due allowance for the disadvantages of her figure, which was not suited to the character, she gave it admirably. Don Giovanni was also performed — superbly, Madame Fodor again taking the then subordinate part of Zerlina, in which she achieved a triumphant success. II Barhiere di Seviglia, the first of Eossini's operas offered to British ears, was next brought out, when Garcia made his debut in England as the Count Almaviva. He was tall, hand- some, and of a fine figure, with animated, fiery action, and a voice of singular sweetness and flexibility. Madame Fodor was the Rosina ; Ambrogetti, Dr. Bartolo ; and ISTaldi, Figaro. On the 30th of April, Rossini's JElisahetta was brought forward for the benefit of Madame Fodor, who aj^peared to advantage as the regal heroine, and sang in her best style. Madame Fo- dor also performed Carolina in II Matrhnonio Segreto. In the month of July, 1818, Madame Fodor went to Italy, where she studied assiduously, and succeeded in rendering her voice supple and sweet, and acquiring a peculiarly " honeyed" tone. She was engaged at Venice, where she was heard for the first time in the Elisahetta of Caraffa, which she perform- ed thirty-eight times successively. She gained a complete tri- umph, being crowned on the stage after her first appearance, and recalled many times each evening amid an ujiroar of de- light. The princiisal dilettanti of Venice had a gold medal struck in her honor. The Italian Theatre of Paris, ruined by the bad administra- tion of Madame Catalani, was reorganized at the commence- ment of 1819, when Madame Fodor was engaged, and appear- ed in the May of that year. Then commenced the brilliant period of her career : her talent had become completely de- veloped, and in the Agnese of Paer, II Matrinionio Segreto, Don Giovanni, II BarMere di Seviglia,SM^La GazzaLadra, she achieved a series of triumphs which lasted for three years. She was not remarkable for elevation of style nor for passion- ate fervor, but for accurate intonation, great purity of tone, JOSEPHINE MAINVILLE FODOE. 217 much perfection in details, and an irresistible charm in her ac- centuation. Count Stendhal sarcastically characterized her as a sublime bird-orjjan. Tl Barhitre had not much success on its first representation at the Italian theatre at Paris, but on the second it became extremely popular, Avhen Madame Fodor took the place of Madame Ronzi di Begnis as Rosina, aud made the beautiful creation of Kossini understood by the Parisians. During the latter part of her stay in Paris the health of Madame Fodor was much aflectcd by an internal disorder, which had no influence on the purity of her voice, but which prostrated her bodily strength ; and her physicians advising a tour in Italy, she resolved to try the change of air. She took her leave of the Parisians in Elisahetta^m March, 1822, and left for Naples in April. The effect of the lovely climate of Naples was prompt and salutary, and the French cantatrice made her ai^ijearance at San Carlo in Otello the August of the same year. The enthusiasm of the Neapolitans equaled that of the Venetians and the Parisians. She performed in Scraira- mide, Zelmira, and many other operas, concluding a most suc- cessful engagement February 8, 1823. From Naples Madame Fodor went to Vienna, with her im- presario, Barbaja, who was obliged to relinquish the San Carlo, but who did not choose to give up his splendid company. Dur- ing the second performance of Otdlo^ at the Karnthnerthor Theatre, Madame Fodor was seized with a fit while singing the duet with Emilia. The performance was suspended for the evening, but the next night she reappeared in the same opera. She sang during the entire season, with Fanny Ecker- lin, the two Davides, Donzelli, aud the bass singers Ambrogi, Bassi, and Lablache. She performed principally in the works of Rossini, and was exceedingly popular, despite the counter- attractions of Sontag, of Mombelli, and the oihcv 2^rime donne attached to the company. Ilcr Semiramide was so greatly admired that she performed it sixty times successively, with immense applause. Returning to Naples, she was engaged at the Opera till August, 1825, when she retraced her steps to Paris to fulfill a contract made with M. le Vicomte de la Roche- foucault, Directeur General des Beaux Arts. She was then in the zenith of her fame, and her voice might be said to have attained its fullest development. No sooner had she made her appearance in Paris than the horizon of the K 218 QUEENS OF SONG. Theatre Italien became overcast. Rossini's Semiramide had been chosen for the benefit of Madame Pasta, who naturally understood that she was to perform the principal part in the opera, it being one of her finest characters ; but, at rehearsal, the role of Arsace was allotted to Pasta, and that of the Queen of Babylon given to Fodor. A quarrel, vehement, long, and bitter, was the result ; but Madame Fodor would not yield ; she said that Madame Pasta might perform Semiramide after her debut, but not before. The Parisians were almost univer- sally on the side of Pasta, who, it is certain, was treated in the most unhandsome manner by M. le Vicomte. The dispute was ended by Madame Fodor's appeai'ing at the Theatre Italien, on the 9th of December, 1825, in Rossini's Semiramide, which was as yet unknown to Paris. The boxes, pit, gallery, and stalls were crammed, and the whole musical world of Paris was present, with many musical celebrities of the day — Rossini, Cherubini, Choron, and others, who antici- pated a brilliant triumph for the prima donna. Galli, Bor- dogni, and Mdlle. Schiassetti, were to sing with her. The au- dience greeted Madame Fodor with the most flattering enthu- siasm. The voice of la prima delle prime donne, as the Italians called her, was in excellent order, though she was suffering from almost overpowering timidity, unaccountable in so prac- ticed a performer ; and she went through the first scene of the opera in a style which excited the audience to a pitch of almost delirious delight. On her reappearance in the next scene, she had not proceeded beyond the fifth or sixth bar of the first air when her voice suddenly failed her : not a note could be heard. The orchestra ceased playing ; and the cantatrice, nearly faint- ing from agitation, made the most violent exertions to recover herself: her chest heaved, her blanched lips quivered, cold drops of perspiration bedewed her brow, but not even a cry of agony escaped her. Her voice was gone ! The curtain was dropped, and the whole house was in con- sternation. The manager (Mr. Ayrton) appeared, and explain- ed that the sudden indisposition of Madame Fodor must cause the performances to be suspended for a few minutes, and the audience, indulgent as usual on such an occasion, promised to wait patiently. The dressing-room of the unhappy vocalist was a scene of indescribable confusion. Lying on a sofa in a frenzy of grief, she was flinging her arras about in the wildest JOSEPHINE MAINYILLE FODOE. 219 despair, striking her face, tearing her hair, and giving way to her anguish in mute agony : she uttered no audible cries. Ros- sini fairly wept ; and Choron fell on his knees, entreating her to calm her agitation. Half an hour had elapsed, and the house was becoming violent in its impatience. Poor Ayrton then came and informed Madame Fodor that the audience would no loncrer wait, and that he was about to announce to them that the performance could not proceed. The color rushed to the face of the cantatrice ; her eyes flashed fire, her lips moved convulsively, and, springing to her feet, she exclaimed, in a loud, full, and resonant voice, " Draw up the curtain ; I will sing !" " Saved ! saved !" cried Rossini, embracing her. The curtain was again raised, and the prima donna entered, and was welcomed by shouts of applause. A profound silence succeeded, and then the audience remained in expectancy. Madame Fodor went through the remainder of the opera, but at the conclusion of the last scene she fell to the ground in a swoon. On her recovery she found that her voice was com- pletely gone. Under these circumstances, she offered to relinquish her en- gagement ; but, hoping to see what they considered the effects of a temporary accident pass away, the administration protest- ed against this. But finding it was hopeless to look forward to the restoration of her powers, they refused to jiay her sala- ry. She demanded that they should execute certain clauses of the contract; this they declined, and a process followed, which she gained. The administration then carried the cause to the Conseil d'Etat, and the discussion lasted some time, but was finally terminated by a compromise. Trusting that beneath the sunny skies of Italy she might once more regain her powers, Madame Fodor, on the conclu- sion of her dispute with the management of the Italian Thea- tre of Paris, went to Naples. She did indeed rid herself of the obstinate hoarseness which had destroyed her voice in France, and fancied that she could again sing. She appeared at the San Carlo in 1828, and again in 1831, with Tamburini. But she had grievously deceived herself At last, convinced that it was hopeless to look forward to any alteration for the bet- ter, Madame Fodor retired altogether from the stage, and fixed her abode at Fontaiuebleau. lu November, 1834, the unlucky 220 QUEENS OF SONG. cantatrice went to Paris, and submitted to a trying operation under the hands of Doctor Cruveilhier. The disorder which affected her had placed her life in danger, and her recovery- was for a time doubtful. She still gave concerts, although unable herself to take any part in them. They were held at Foutainebleau, sometimes at the house of Madame Fodor, sometimes at that of Colonel Braque. It was rumored in 1837 that a skillful surgeon had effected a complete recovery of her vocal organ, and that she had regained all the brilliancy of her execution, but the report was groundless. In 1857 Madame Fodor published a work entitled Conseils et Meflexions sur VArt de Chant, the result of her knowledge and experience ; and she is at present living in Paris. i LAT77 221 CHAPTER XVII. LAUEE CINTHIE DAMOEEAU. In tbe Rue Grange Bateliere, Paris, some fifty years ago, there lived a little girl, whose chief pleasure was in studying music after a solitary fashion of her own. This child was Laure Cinthie Montalant, who had been born in this quiet street, February 6, 1801. Where this little girl had obtained her predilection for mu- sic was a mystery. M. Montalant, her father, was a professor of languages, and troubled himself very little about music and musicians; her mother was a wood engraver; and none of the family had ever been known to cherish any liking for the di- vine art. Laure had an uncle, the Abbe Jacques, who had been pre- ceptor to the sons of the King of Holland. Perceiving the evident gift Laure had for music, he spoke to his friend M. Henri Plantade, who directed the singing-classes at the Con- servatoire. He also took her to Catel, who, looking at the pale, slender child, smiled incredulously Avhen told of her prom- ising talent, and at her earnest declaration that she would like to be a musician. The illustrious professor asked her to sing, and Laure selected the finale from Le N'ozze di Figaro^ which she repeated with such precision and feeling that Catel was astonished. She was admitted to the Conservatoire, Novem- ber 28, 1808, in the class for the study of the piano-forte, and soon became a clever pianist. She was then raised to the class for harmony, where her progress Avas so rapid that Cazot, her teacher, was often perplexed how to snpjDly her with fresh pieces. Her playing was so pure, her expression so elegant, her fingering so agile, by the time she was thirteen, that the committee thought she had no need to become a vocalist, and might be very well satisfied with her proficiency on the piano- forte ; they therefore obstinately refused to admit her into the singing-class. Laure entreated in vain, and then, vexed by their stern denial, demanded her dismissal. 222 QUEENS OP SONG. M. Plantade, her uncle's friend, seeing the real talent of this young girl, came to her rescue. " You want lessons in sing- ing," said the good-hearted professor : " I will give them to you ;" and he kept his word. " M. Plantade was assiduous in giving me lessons, with all the care of an excellent musical professor, and all the tenderness of a father," says Laure her- self. " My voice, which gave promise of becoming flexible, but which did not then possess much strength, struck him as completely adapted to the Italian style. I studied, thei'efore, under him, only the old repertoire, beginning with Durante's Psalms. My master allowed me to sing scarcely three or four French airs ; among these latter were the airs of ' Montano et Stephanie,' and ' Beniowski,' true models of a style that is at once simple, expressive, and graceful." In the house where Laure resided there was a harp, upon which she commenced playing. Wood-engraving and teach- ing languages not being, at that period, especially remunera- tive, the pecuniary resources of the family did not allow of her being supplied with published music, which was very dear at the time. This obliged her to compose studies for herself, and she wrote caprices, rondeaux, and other things, in bold defiance of all known rules, and performed them under the guidance of a musical instinct. She formed a little school, too, where, besides learning singing, her juvenile pupils per- formed the old operas comiques to an audience of admiring mammas. When she had attained her fourteenth year, M. Plantade said to her, "My dear girl, you can now do without me. Mark my words : you possess taste ; you will adojDt what is good in some, and reject what is bad in others." And he dismissed her with encouraging advice. Uncle Jacques, who felt persuaded of her ability, was anx- ious to bring her forward, and jDresented her to the Queen of Holland. Her majesty received her very kindly, and called her " sa jolie petite virtuose." The young girl's first steps in the? musical world were not, however, very brilliant; some concerts which she gave attracted small notice, for she was un- known, and was not a foreigner. Her voice acquired each day more softness, more purity ; and, being an excellent musi- cian, and endowed with a strong instinct for music, she profit- ed by the practical experience she gained by listening to the LAUKE CINTHIE DAMOEEAU. 223 finished singers who appeared iu Paris, particularly those at the Theatre Italien. Madame Catalani being then director of the Opera, M. Vallebreque thought that Mdlle. Montalant, as a young un- known singer, would make a most convenient " puppet" to re- place Madame Fodor, and he offered her an engagement on one condition — that she should Italianize her name. A very slight alteration changed her name of Ciuthie, and at the age of fifteen she appeared as Mdlle. Ciuti, in the part of Lilla, in La Cosa Jiara, one of Madame Fodor's favorite characters. " Thanks to my extreme youth," she says, " and, above all, to the advice of my dear master, my success was a genuine one. The day on which M. Plantade's unconditional approba- tion confirmed the applause of the public was the happiest day of my life. After my successful debut I had many annoyances and prejudices to overcome. I was French: this was almost a crime at the Theatre Italien! But I was not discouraged. I learned, in a very short time, nearly fifteen or twenty jxarts ; I understudied (sometimes iu a day) the parts of all the prime donne ; in the ardor of my zeal, and with my incessant appli- cation, I was ready for every score. My adoption of this sys- tem proved one day highly advantageous to me. Madame Catalani was to appear in an extraordinary performance at the Opera. The full rehearsal was already somewhat advanced, when it was remarked that the great vocalist had not arrived. At the moment the ritournelle of her cavatina announced her entrance on the stage, Barilli, our stage manager, taking my hand, boldly presented mc to the orchestra to sing in the place of our celebrated manageress. Though greatly agitated at first, I felt afterward very happy, for the orchestra applauded me very much, and it was the first time such an honor had been paid me. When Madame Catalani heard of what I had been bold enough — or, rather, what my devotion to art had prompted me — to do, she thanked me by an embrace, for she was always kind." The first really important part which was given to Mdlle. Cinti, however, was that of Cherubino, in Z>e Nozze di Figaro^, in which opera she performed with Garcia and Madame Cata- lani. The manner in which she sang the air at the feet of the Countess was much applauded ; but the young vocalist was not much noticed by the habitues of the Opera. She wanted 224 QUEENS OF SONG. sensibility, they said ; she sang like a bird-organ : indeed, she could not sing well, as she had never visited Italy. However, Laure persevered. Profiting by all she heard, she studied ar- dently, always hoping for the excellence which she felt she should ultimately attain ; and she improved, not rapidly, but with certainty. She was pretty, had much musical knowledge, and a simple and pure tast« ; as an actress, too, she was easy and imaffected ; so, by degrees, she was intrusted with many good parts; among others, she performed Rosina, Giulietta, Amenaide, and Zerlina. She desired to appear at the Academic Royale de Musique ; but she had to contend against Mdlle. Naldi, who was strong- ly favored by Siguor Viotti, director of the Opera and of the Italiens : a gentleman who had a reiDutatiou as a good violin- ist, and was a respectable wine-merchant, but who proved to be a bad administrator. In 1822 Mdlle. Cinti was performing still at the Theatre Italien, in such operas as La Gazza Ladra^ Avith Barilli, Bordognij^^and Madame Rossi, and was then very popular. At this time a noble patron of the King's Theatre heard Mdlle. Cinti, and recommended her to London, where she was engaged by Ebers, with Rosalbina Caradori and Madame Gra- ziani. In May, 1822, she made her appearance as Rosina, in II Barhiere di Seviglia^ and was most kindly received. Her exquisite grace, delicacy, feeling, and musical taste and knowl- edge were much admired, though it was regretted that her powers as a singer were so limited. Her beauty and her in- telligence as an actress also gained her favor ; but she was yet young, her talents were not perfectly developed, and for sev- eral reasons she did not make any impression in England. She returned to Paris, however, more confident in her powers ; and her salary, hitherto 8000 francs, was raised to 12,000, On her return to Paris she performed in II Barhiere di Se- viglia, with Pellegrini, Garcia, Graziani, Profeti, and Levasseur. She also pei-formed in II llatrimonio Segreto^ Bon Giovanni^ and in Borneo e Giulietta^ with Madame Pasta. In NoAem- ber, for Madame Pasta's benefit, Mercadante's Elisa e Claudlo was represented, when Mdlle. Cinti, in the part of Carlotta, sang with pure taste her pretty cavatina. The arrival of Rossini in Paris formed a marked era in mu- sical art in France, and was a happy event for Mdlle. Cinti. LAUEE CINTHIE DAMOREAIT. 225 She was receiving instruction from Bordogni, when the great maestro heard her, and from that time took a special interest in her welfare. His 3Iosb in Erjitto was produced October 24, 1822. It did not create the eiFect which had been antici- pated, although Madame Pasta was ably seconded by Madame Rossi and Mdlle. Cinti, and Garcia, in spite of his real illness, exerted himself to the utmost. Levasseur also had a part, in which he developed all the resources of his fine vocal talent ; and the debutant, Zuchelli, who possessed a tenor voice of rare power and of considerable extent, Avhich he managed with ex- traordinary art, sang splendidly. The comparative failure of this opera is attributable to its want of dramatic interest. II Barhiere^ and La Gazza Ladra^ have each a story full of va- riety and of dramatic action, an element of success entirely wanting in 3Iosh. This opera, however, crowned Mdlle. Ciu- ti's success : it contained the first part written for her. II Viaggio a Helms was produced at the Theatre Italien in June, 1825, when Mdlle. Cinti performed with Pasta, Mom- belli, and a number of famous Italian singers. At this time the representations at the Grand Opera were very wearisome, for the performers did not care to take pains, as they were paid whether they sang well or ill, and they were not encouraged by the public. The Academic, in con- versation, was now styled simply rO^^era ; country people des- ignated it the Grand Opera ; and from its situation in the Rue Lepelletier, near the Boulevard, the singers were frequent- ly called les Chcmteurs cle la Rue LepelUtier. Rossini employ- ed his influence to substitute opera chante for lyric tragedy at the Academie. MM. Persuis and Habeneck, directors of the Italiens and the Academie, intending to change their represent- ations and perform the works of Rossini, were in want of a vocalist capable of interpreting his ideas, and, considering that he ought to be the best judge of the kind of singer most cal- culated to carry out his ideas, readily attended to his sugges- tions. The reform commenced, then, with the engagement of Mdlle. Cinti and the production of ie Siege de Corinthe^ which was brought out October 9, 1826. The talents of Mdlle. Cinti and Adolphe Nourrit aflbrded great resources to the com- poser ; the part of Neocles was Nourrit's first important im- personation. Some misunderstanding, however, liaving arisen between Mdlle. Cinti and the administration, in the summer 15 K2 226 QUEENS OF SONG. of 1827 she abruptly quitted the Opera. She appeared at Brussels, where she excited great admiration, and there she married M. Damoreau, an actor at the theatre of that city, who made his appearance some time after, but without success, at the Opera in Paris, and then at the Theatre Feydeau. When Auber's greatest work. La Muette de Portici, was produced at the Grand Opera in 1827, Madame Damoreau sustained the somewhat ungrateful part of Elvira, singing the music in a manner which greatly contributed to the success of the piece. In 1828 she was the original representative of the Comtesse de Formontiers in Rossini's charming opera Le Corate Ory ; and when his chef-cVceuvre^Guillawne Te7^, was produced in 1829, she performed the character of the hero- ine, with Nourrit, Levasseur, Alexis Dupont, and Massol. She next appeared as Fatme in Auber's Le Dieu et la Bayadh'e^ and as Teresine in Le Philtre of the same composer. In 1831, M. Veron, then director of the Grand Opera, pi'oduced Mey- erbeer's Eohert le Diahle. The part of the Princess Isabelle was intrusted to Madame Damoreau, who succeeded in pleas- ing the manager, the compose!*, the critics, and the public. In the summer of 1832, driven away from Paris by the rav- ages of the cholera, Madame Cinti Damoreau, with Nourrit and Levasseur, came to England. She was engaged at a sal- ary of 100 guineas per night, and appeared May 26, in La Cenerentola., with Madame Castelli, Donzelli, and Tamburini, who then made his debut in England. She next appeared as Rosina, in LI Barhiere di Seviglla^ Lablache being the Figaro. "Cinti has greatly improved smce our former acquaintance with her," said an English critic ; " and not only throughout the part of Rosina, but especially in Rode's variations, intro- duced as the music lesson, was little inferior to Sontag." She was also veiy much admired in La Donna del Lago, in which she performed with Donzelli and Madame Moriani. Previous to closing his theatre, after a most disastrous sea- son, the manager, Monck Mason, brought oat Liohert le Liable. He spared nothing which could give it importance and attrac- tion, but spent £6000 in mounting it. The scenery painted for the opera by Messrs. Grieve was magnificent, the convent scene being only eclipsed by that with which the piece termi- nates — an interior of the Cathedral of Palermo. Meyerbeer himself came to London expressly to superintend the produe- LAUEE CINTHIE DAMOEEAU. 227 tion of bis opera, but, through various delays, was obliged to leave for Berlin without attending a single rehearsal. At last it was i^roduced on Monday, June 11, with only three changes in the original cast — Madame de Mcric taking the part of Alice, while the light and brilliant Ileberle undertook the character of the Abbess, " created" by Taglioni. Shortly after the production of Bohert le Diahle, Madame Damoreau refused to perform for 100 guineas a night; the part of Isabelle was therefore given to Madlle. Schneider, and that of Raimbaut omitted altogether. Madame Damoreau re- turned to Paris; but the following year, 1833, she revisited London, and reappeared at the King's Theatre in La Generen- tola^ with Tamburini, Zuchelli, and Donzelli. She performed also in La Gazza Ladra, with Rubini, Tamburini, and Zuchel- li; in Tancredi, with Madame Pasta, Rubini, and Zuchelli; ai.d in Don Giovanni, with Mesdames Castelli and De Meric, Tamburini, Donzelli, Giubilei, and De Begnis. This was her last visit to England. In October, 1834, after a long illness, Madame Damoreau returned to the Theatre de I'Opera, in Paris, when she was re- ceived with acclamation in HoherPle Diahle. She continued to appear at the Grand Opera, the Opera Comique, and in the provinces, until the year 1841, when (on the 8th of May) she made her farewell appearance at the Opera Comique. The house was crowded to the doors, and she received the warm- est demonstrations of admiration and respect. In the same year she visited St. Petersburg, and on her return continued to sing for some time longer in the provinces. In 1843 she finally retired from the stage, but commenced a fresh career as a concert-singer, in which capacity she visited America, creating a furore in Xew York, Boston, Philadelphia, and New Orleans. On her return she accepted the post of Professor of Singing at the Conservatoire, and in 1849 she published her Methode de Chant, a valuable work, which was adopted by that institution. She had pi'cviously published an Albnm de Homanccs, which contains some very charming compositions. She had many pupils, several of whom became distinguished in their art. She now resides, in honored retirement, in Paris. 228 QUEEKS OF SONG. CHAPTER XVIII. VIOLANTE CAMPOEESE. YiOLANTE Campoeese, bom at Rome in 1785, was one of the most brilliant and popular singers of the beginning of the present century. Of gentle birth, she had cultivated music merely as an elegant accomplishment, making herself, however, completely mistress of the art; but unforeseen misfortunes compelled her to convert into a jn-ofession what had been merely a recreation, and she became a public singer, appearing in the first instance only at concerts. She was then the wife of Signer Giustiniani, a gentleman of noble family, the head of which was alone prevented by his foreign birth from claiming the Scotch earldom of Newburgh, which would have been his by right of female descent. Madame Camporese — for she al- ways retained her maiden name in public — had never appear^ ed at any theatre till she was engaged for the private concerts of Napoleon ; she sang also at the Concert Spirituel. Endow- ed with a jjowerful soprano voice of great flexibility, she had already, on arriving in Paris, developed remarkable talent, which was perfected yet more by the friendly instructions of Crescentini. Ebers, while in Pai'is, was introduced to Madame Camporese in the autumn of 1816, at the house of the celebrated composer Paer. " She did me the favor to sing, accompanied by that great master on the piano," says Ebers. "She possesses a fine-toned voice, of rather more than two octaves, reaching from B and C in alt down to B and A below, but the notes could be called good from C to F only, the others not being fine in their quality. She cultivated a pure, chaste, and ex- pressive style, was a handsome and elegant woman of oue-and- thirty, with dark haii', eyes, and complexion, a tall, slender figure, a fine Roman countenance full of tragic dignity, and features rather strongly marked. Her manner had a stately grace and irresistible sweetness. The purity and force of her singing, the exquisite quality of her voice, were united to an VIOL ANTE CAMPOKESE. , 229 \ execution refined, polished, and free from any effort at dis- play." From Paris slie went to Milan, where she sang at La Scala, and the theatre was crowded nightly while her engagement lasted. Both as a singer and as a woman she was admired, and many anecdotes are told of her kindness of heart and the excellence of her disposition, Ebers relates one : " An inti- mate acquaintance waited on her one morning to make a re- quest. In the hospital for the insane a man was confined lit- erally /cmaZeco ^^er la tnusica; he had lost his senses on the failure of an opera in which the labors of the composer were greater than the excellence of his music. This unfortunate man had by some accident heard of Camporese, whose fame filled the city, and immediately conceived an ungovernable wish to hear her. For a while, his solicitations passed unno- ticed, he grew ungovernable, and had to be fastened to his bed : in this state Camporese's friend had beheld him. She was dressed for an evening party when this representation was made to her, but she paused a moment on hearing it. Then throwing a cloak over her shoulders, said, 'Come, then.' 'Whither?' 'To the Ospedale.' 'But why? There is no occasion to go now — to-morrow or the next day.' 'To-mor- row ! no, indeed ; if I can do this poor man good, let me go instantly.' And they went. Being shown into a room separ- ated from that of the maniac musician by a thin Avall, Campo- rese began to sing one of Haydn's melodies. The attendants in the next room observed their patient suddenly become less violent, then composed ; at last he burst into tears. The singer now entered ; she sat down and sang again. When she had concluded, the poor composer took from under his bed a torn sheet of paper, scored with an air of his own composition, and handed it to her. There were no words, nothing in the music, but Camporese, running it over, sang it to some words of Metastasio with such sweetness that the music seemed excel- lent. ' Sing it me once more,' said the maniac. She did so, and departed accompanied by his prayers and the tears of the spectators." In 1817 she was engaged at the King's Theatre, the compa- ny consisting besides of Madame Fodor, Madame Pasta, Cri- velli, Begrez, Naldi, Angrisani, and Ambrogetti. Crivelli was a tenor of the old school, with a sonorous, mellow voice of con- 230 QUEENS OF SONG. siderable power, clearness, and flexibility. Some of his tones were excellent, bnt, having lost much of his power, he was sometimes obliged to force his voice, thus spoiling the effect of a performance in other respects admirable. Ambrogetti, who had a deep, flexible, and rich voice, which filled the the- atre with ease, sang with much sweetness and fervor; some of his tones were exceedingly pure, his ear was correct, and he Vvas free and spirited in his acting. He had a fine manly fig- ure, well-marked features, and a dashing air, and possessed also a natural vein of humor, which rendered his acting very ani- mated and vivacious. On the 11th of January, 1817, Madame Camporese appeared before an English audience, with Pasta and Crivelli, in Cima- rosa's serious but heavy opera hrase of the allegro of this fine morceau all the wealth of a florid vocalization, Avith Avhich the audience Avere more dazzled than charmed. In responding to her young and glo- 16 L " 242 QUEENS OF SONG. rious rival, Madame Pisaroni sang with such simplicity, breadtli of style, and concentrated emotion, that she changed places with the Queen of Babylon, especially when they heard a di- lettante exclaim, '^rauo/ questo h il vero cantoP ('This is the true method of singing!')" The public were bewildered, and a momentary silence broke immediately into a tornado of applause. In 1828 there arose at the Theatre Italien one of those bit- ter musical contests such as occurred between Handel and Porpora, Cuzzoni and Faustina, FarineUi and Senesino, Gliick and Piccini, Mara and Todi, Fodor and Pasta. The combat- ants on this occasion ranged themselves under the respective standards of Pisaroni and Sontag, and gave unequivocal signs both of enthusiasm and injustice. The artistes, driven to ri- valry in spite of themselves by their j^artisans, and urged to fresh efforts, were heard to the utmost advantage. The two operas in which the talents of Madame Pisaroni and Mdlle. Sontag were chiefly brought into contrast were ia Donna del Lago and Tancredl, and in both there was a wide field for the display of the peculiar gifts of each. In the celebrated duet from Hianca e Fcdiero^ which was introduced into the Donna delLago^ Mdlle. Sontag was particularly happy in some of her closing passages, and it was remarked with pleasure that Madame Pisaroni (now called the Veteran, from her knowledge of the stage) frequently gave a smile of encourage- ment to her young rival ; for they were not vindictive foes, but rather like two generous competitors contending for the sake of fame. Madame Pisaroni was engaged in 1S29 at the King's Thea- CD CD O tre, then under the management of Laporte, with Sontag and Malibran. The tenor was Donzelli, a Bolognese, at that time thirty years of age, and who had sung for some years in Italy. Mercadante had written for him his opera oi Elisa e Glaudio. At Vienna, in 1822, he had produced a sensation which attract- ed the attention of the directors of the Theatre Italien in Paris, who engaged him, and he had come from thence to London. His voice was a pure tenor of great compass, capa- ble of much variety of inflection, and he possessed musical taste and discrimination. There was a fullness and richness in his tones, and an equality in his high and low notes which rendered his singing imsurpassed in smoothness and beauty. KOSAMUNDA PISARONI. 243 On the 31st of January Madame Pisaroni made her first ap- pearance in England as jMalcolm, in Rossini's opera La Don- na del Logo, the character Avhich had so greatly contributed to raise her musical and dramatic fame in Europe. Mdlle. Mouticelli, another debutante, performed Elena. When Ma- dame Pisaroni ajDpeared in the picturesque costume of Mal- colm, she was received with a burst of applause, and the pow- er and brilliancy of her voice, combined with her dramatic talent, more than compensated for defects in physical attri- butes ; for it was immediately apparent that her musical taste and dramatic tact were perfect. It was also perceived, how- ever, that her voice was worn and somewhat exhausted : its youthful freshness was gone, and it had evidently been tried by continual eiforts; and with all her consummate art, the gifted cantatrice was unable to conceal this painful fact. " Still, there is nothing offensive to the ear," the critics ac- knowledged ; " nothing that takes from the expression. The feeling is that there was a period when it was probably more beautiful — beautiful as it remains." In Ultaliana in Algieri, which was revived February 1 7, Pisaroni performed Isabella, and the influence of di'ess was here strikingly exemplified, for in a plain brown silk dress and a fashionable white hat she looked almost handsome. Her singing was delightful, and she acted with so much ani- mation and comic humor that the house re-echoed with laughter. In Rossini's Hicciardo e Zoraide, injudiciously compressed into one act, Madame Pisaroni appeared as Zomira, in a superb costume, to overcome as far as possible her personal defects ; but she had not much opportunity of displaying her fine vocal powers. For her benefit, on May 14, she selected Semiramide., and appeared as Arsacc, Sontag personating the Assyrian Queen. Pisaroni appeared on one occasion (May 25) with Malibran, in Semiramide, and the performance of these two magnificent artistes in this opera will long be remembered by those who heard it. On the termination of the season Madame Pisaroni left En- gland and never returned. Notwithstanding her acknowl- edged powers, she had been a comparative fa'^nre, partly ow- ing to the unfortunate selection of operas, and partly to the habft English audiences had (at tJiat time) of "hearing with 244 QUEENS OP SONG. their eyes, and looking for an accomplished singer only in the face." Madame Pisaroni sang during the season of 1829-30 at the Theatre Italien, with Malibran and Sontag ; and in the sum- mer of 1830 she was singing at La Scala with Pasta, Giuditta Grisi, Luciano Fornasari, Rubini, Lahlache, and Davide. From Milan Pisaroni went to Cadiz (in 1830), where she staid two years. In 1835 and 1836 she sang again in Turin, but, not meeting with the favor which had hitherto welcomed her, she wisely determined on retiring to her native town, where she lived in well-earned and honorable ease. The career of this magnificent singer and actress illustrates the power possessed by vocal and histrionic talents, combined in perfection, to overcome the impression of personal defects ; at the same time exemplifying the influence which female beauty exerts over the public, especially the audience of ope- ratic performances. The charms of a lovely countenance and graceful form are a source of pleasure to the mind as well as the eye; and audiences of refined taste, whose perceptions have been rendered highly sensitive by the " concord of sweet sounds," can not but be powerfully, if unconsciously, influ- enced by the jDcrsonal attractions of a singer. Indeed, the ap- Ijearance of a beautiful woman, set ofi" with all the aids of ele- gant costume on the lyric stage, and delighting the eye by her graceful gestures, Avhile the ear is charmed with the most ex- quisite vocal and instrumental music, exercises a fascination which is irresistible: it more often occurs that vocal defi- ciencies are overlooked where the singer is attractive in per- son and manner, than that personal defects are lost sight of in the blaze of brilliant talents. On the stage the eye must be gratified, for it is through the eye as well as the ear that the mind is aflected in opera. That Madame Pisaroni succeeded in overcoming the start- ling efiect of her ugly face and ungainly figure is a powerful test of the force of her genius, manifested in the surjarising beauty and grandeur of her lyric performances. Indeed, the efiect of her singing and acting was such as to produce a reac- tion in her favor, and her audience soon ceased to regard her personal disadvantages when under the sway of her command- ing powers. The same magical influence that made playgoers of a former generation think KOSAMUNDA PISAROOT. 245 "Pritchard genteel, and Garrick six feet high," and that caused those of a later day, when under the powerful spell of the elder Kean's fiery genius, to lose all consciousness of his small stature, was exerted by Madame Pisaroni. Not only was the critical car of the musician satisfied, but the most languid listener was charmed, and her energetic act- ing in some instances showed "the deformed transformed" into the ideal character she personated. 246 _ QUEENS OF SONG. CHAPTER XX. / GIUDITTA PASTA. When Mr. Ayrton undertook the management of the King's Theatre in 1816, he commenced his task Avith an enthusiastic desire to render the Opera attractive, not merely by an array of brilliant talent, but by that perfection in the representation of the works of the great masters which was due alike to the composer and the audience. He had engaged several vocal- ists of talent, nearly all of whom were to be heard in England for the first time. When at the house of M. Paer, in Paris, he met with Signer and Madame Pasta, a tenor and a mezzo-so- prano, and engaged both for the ensuing season, at the modest salary of four hundred pounds for the two. Giuditta Pasta was then eighteen. She was born at Sarra- no, near Milan, in 1798, of a Jewish family named Negri. She received her first lessons in music from Bartolomeo Lotte, chapel-master of the Cathedral of Como, and was admitted at the age of fifteen to the Conservatorio of Milan, then under the direction of Asiola. In 1815 she left the Conservatorio, and, making her early essays at the theatre of an amateur, ob- tained engagements at the second-rate theatres of Leghorn, Parma, and Brescia, appearing only in subordinate parts, her voice and style at that time unfitting her for any other. In 1816 she sang, together with Mdlle. Ciuti, Miss Corri, and some other young debutantes, in the train of the haughty Ma- dame Catalani, at the Favart, being precisely the kind of sub- ordinate vocalist suited to one of ]Madame Catalani's exacting disposition, for she attracted no attention whatever. Pasta, when first seen in London, only appeared as a glimmering little star just risen above the horizon, in the sunblaze of the fame of Fodor and Camporese. As for her husband, finding there would be no chance Avhatever for him in competition with a singer like Crivelli, he wisely relinquished all idea of making a debut. The King's Theatre opened January 11, 1817, with Cimarosa's opera of Penelope^ Madame Camporese taking the ^Iv ''^ UADAllB PA6TA. • GxUDITTA PASTA. 249 leading part, and as one of the papers said, " two subordinate singers, named Pasta and Mori, came forward also, in the chai'- acters of Telemaco and Aisinoc, but their musical talent does not require minute delineation." Giuditta Pasta's voice was hard and unequal, and she had the greatest difficulty in managing it, while its natural tone was far from being perfect. She had expi-ession, and could descend from the sharp notCb of the soprano to the grave tones of the contralto ; but she always wanted flexibility, and did not appear to advantage in bravura music: some persons, how- ever, perceived in her the germs of future excellence. In ap- pearance she was below the n edium height, but admirably proportioned, with a queenly Reman head and beautiful fea- tures, a high forehead, dark expressive eyes, exquisitely form- ed lips, and a finely shaped nose. The serious cast of her countenance, and the simple majesty of her air, denoted that her genius lay in the loftiest walk of tragedy, especially as she had much dramatic energy, while her gestures anil her atti- tudes were noble and graceful. She next appeared as Cherubino in the Nozze di Figaro, in which she performed very creditably. She also appeared in Paer's Agnese with Madame Camporese and Signer Ambro- getti ; and when La Clemenza di Tito was brought forward. Pasta was given the part of Servilia, Avhich she went through very well, but Avith some of the awkwardness of inexperience. She also performed the role of the pretended shrew in II Shagllo Fortunato, by Ferrari. It could not be disguised at the close of the season that poor Madame Pasta, though sometimes spoken kindly of by the critics, had proved a " failure." She meditated deeply on the causes of her non-success, and felt the impetus of genius which urges those gifted Avilh the spark of divine fire to per- severe ; so she returned to Italy and studied assiduously for more than a year, under the guidance of M. Scappa. An En- glish nobleman who saw her in Italy at this time said that her exertions were unremitting. " Other singers," said he, " find themselves endowed with a voice, and leave every thing else to chance. This woman leaves nothing to chance, and her success is therefore certain." That success was awaiting her reappearance in Italy. She created a marked sensation when she made her debut afresh L2 250 QUEENS OF SO-^.TO. in Venice in 1819. At Rome, in April of that year, she per- formed men's parts at the Argentina, with Tacchinardi, in such operas as Rossini's Aurelicmo in, Palmira^ Mayer's Danae, NicoHni's Cesare nelle Gallie, and in 1820 she appeared at Milan and Trieste. In the autumn of 1821 she was engaged at the Theatre Italien of Paris, where she fixed the attention of the fastidious French public ; but it was at Verona, during the Congress of 1822, that she obtained her great success. She then returned to Paris, reappearing at the Italiens, March 30, in the opera oi Romeo e GiuUetta^ and was received Avith the homage paid only to the highest talent. Madame Pasta Avas then laying the foundation of one of the most dazzling reputations over gained by prima donna. By sheer industry she had extended the range of her voice to two octaves and a half; from A above the bass clef note to C flat, and even to D in alt. Her tones bad become rich and sweet, except when she attempted to force them beyond their limits; her intonation was, however, never quite perfect, being occa- sionally a little flat. Her singing Avas pure, and totally di- vested of all spurious finery ; she added little to Avhat was set down by the composer, and that little was not only in good taste, but had a great deal of originality to recommend it. She possessed deep feeling and correct judgment. Her shake was most beautiful : Signor Pacini's Avell-known cavatiua, II soave e hel contento — the peculiar feature of which consisted in the solidity and power of a sudden shake, contrasted with the detached staccato of the first bar — Avas written for Ma- dame Pasta. Her voice, though it had improved wonderfully, never ajDpeared easy and clear in the emission of certain notes, and retained a veiled quality, from Avhich it was only freed after the first scenes. Some of her notes were sharp almost to harshness, but this defect with the greatness of genius she overcame, and even converted into a beauty ; for in passages of profound passion her guttural tones were thrilling. The irregularity of her lower notes, governed thus by a perfect taste and musical tact, aided to a great extent in giving that depth of expression Avliich was one of the principal charms of her singing; indeed, these lower tones Avere peculiarly suited for the ntterance of vehement passion, producing an extraordi- nary effect by tlie splendid and unexpected contrast Avhich they enabled her to give to the SAveetness of the upper tones, GIUDITTA PASTA. 251 causing a kind of musical discordance, wliicb, animated by ber pathetic expression, created in the heart of the listener an in- definable feeling of melancholy. Her accents were so plain- tive, so penetrating, and so profoundly tragical, that it was im- possible to resist their influence. She had a transcendent gift for acting ; indeed, her genius as a tragedian surpassed her talents as a singer. Her imagin- ative power and fine sensibility enabled her to throw herself completely into the characters she assumed. When on the stage she ceased to be Pasta; she was Tancredi, Romeo, Des- demona, Medea, or Semiramide. " Xothing could have been more free from trick or affectation than Pasta's performance," observed Ebers. " There is no perceptible effort to resemble a character she plays ; on the contrary, she enters the stage the character itself; transposed into the situation, excited by the hopes and the fears, bi'eatliiug the life and the spirit of the being she represents." Promjited by the insj^iration of her genius, every gesture, eveiy movement, became a study for a painter or a sculptor ; and the passions of the soul, animating her noble countenance, vivified the ideal personation. Some of her attitudes were matchless for grace and originality, their effect being heightened by " a resemblance in the grand con- tours of her figure to the antique, and more particularly to the Niobe." Her personal qualifications, combined with her in- nate genius and high cultivation, made her soon the first living actress in Italian tragic opei'a. Talma himself, hearing her declaim, said, " Here is a woman of whom I can still learn." On the stage she habitually assumed the majesty of power in repose, and while ardent in passionate scenes, with the intui- tion of genius she restrained her energy within due limits. " One turn of her beautiful head, one glance of her eye, one light motion of her hand, are Avith her suflicient to express a passion. She could raise the soul of the spectator to the high- est pitch of astonishment and delight by one tone of her voice. ' O Dio !' as it came from her breast, swelling over her lips, was of indescribable eftcct." Outwardly calm and sustained, though poetical and enthu- siastic in tempei-ament, the crowning excellence of her art was its grand simplicity. Sublime and terrible as she was in the expression of A'eheraent passion, there was yet a measured force in tlie display of her power, which was always under the 252 QUEENS OF SONG. control of her taste and judgment. She never wasted energy ; nor in the expression of the deepest pathos, or the most exalt- ed passion, did she ever exceed the bounds of art. She was always vigorous, but never violent ; always supremely grace- ful, but never artificial or affected ; and she was always great- est when she had the greatest difficulties to encounter. Madame Pasta's personation of Romeo, a part originally written for Grassini by Zingarelli, was beautiful and pathetic in the extreme. The passionate grief of the young Montec- clii, in the third act, was subdued by a tearful pathos. The recitative, " O mia Giulietta ! O sposa !" Avlien Romeo drinks the poison, was an effusion of despairing melancholy ; and in the air which follows it, " Ombra adorata" (written by Cres- centini, the singer), in which the unfortunate lover dwells on the idea of his spirit joining that of his beloved in Elysium, she seemed to be sustained by hope, resignation, and sublime faith. In a word, it v/ould be difficult to conceive any thing more profoundly affecting than Madame Pasta's Romeo. Her next important character at the Theatre Italien was Tancredi, which she made her own ; and it Avas one of her most finished, enchanting, and deeply interesting impersona- tions. She looked resplendent in the casque and cuirass of the Red Cross Knight. No one could ever sing the part of Tancredi like Madame Pasta : her pure taste enabled her to add grace to the original composition by elegant and irre- proachable ornaments. " Di tanli palpiti" had been first pre- sented to the Parisians by Madame Fodor, who covered it with rich and brilliant embroidery, and gave it what an En- glish critic. Lord Mount Edgecumbe, afterward termed its country-dance-like character. Madame Pasta, on the contrary, infused into this air its true color and expression, and the ef- fect was ravishing. But her great triumph was in Otello. In Desdemona she produced an indescribable effect upon the audience. Of the impassioned energy, the spirit, the delicacy and tenderness which Madame Pasta infused into the character, pages might be written. In the celebrated scene which closes the second act, commencing thus — ■ " Se il padre m'abbandoni Da chi sperar' picta," fear, anguish, and despair were successively expressed in her GITJDITTA PASTA. 253 countenance, and her pathetic singing of the lovely melody " Assisa a pise d'un salice" touched every heart. In this part, those melting tones, which are designated " the tears of the voice," were heard with touching eflect. And it was in the last scene, however, when, awakened by the raging Otello, Desdemona starts up, and the indignation and horror of con- scious innocence are kindled within her, that the powers of Madame Pasta's performance were concentrated. Her transi- tions from hope to terror, from supplication to scorn, culmi- nating in her vehement exclamation " Sono innocente !" elec- trified the audience : no language could convey an idea of the beauty, the intensity, the sublimity of her acting. Indeed, throughout the final scene, her acting was the perfection of tragic beauty : her last frenzied looks, Avhcn, blinded by her disheveled hair and bewildered with conflicting emotions, she seems to seek fruitlessly the means of flight, were awful. In no other character were the varied resources of the art of the great tragedian drawn forth so consummately as in Desdemo- na, and it displayed the versatility of her powers to advantage when succeeding that of Tancredi. The contrast presented by her chivalric bearing as the young hero of Syracuse, to the gentleness and graceful simplicity of the artless Venetian lady, was very striking, and enhanced the appreciation of her genius. On the lyric stage she thus exercised a double sway ; for such was her force of genius that she was able to excel in the new school of Rossini, and in the grand style of the ancient school. She shone in the operas of the Swan of Pesaro, and she could equally give eflect to the sublime airs composed by Zingarelli for Marchesi, Crescentini, Grassini, and other models of what was then called "the fine school of singing." Elisabetta was revived for Pasta, who, as the English Queen, was no less admirable than in the characters of Desdemona, Romeo, or Tancredi. The opera offered then a two-fold inter- est, for Mdlle. Cinti, after a long absence, reappeared in the part of Mathilde. In October 3fosb hi Egitto was produced, Pasta filliii2j the leading characters with eclat. In January of the following year Madame Pasta for the first time appeared before the public in her great masterpiece — the character of Medea, in Mayer's opera. Even her Avarmest admirers were taken by surprise by the grandeur of her im- personation. Nothing could surpass her performance of this 254 QUEENS OF SONG. character; it was a triumph of histrionic art, and afforded every o2323ortuuity for the display of all the resources of her genius — the varied powers which had been called forth and combined in Medea, the passionate tenderness of Romeo, the spirit and animation of Taucredi, the majesty of Semiramide, the mournful beauty of Nina, the dignity and sweetness of Desdemona. It is difficult to conceive a character more high- ly dramatic or more intensely impassioned than that of Medea; and in the successive scenes. Pasta appeared as if torn by the conflict of contending passions, until at last her anguish rose to sublimity. The conflict of human affection and supernatu- ral power, the tenderness of the wife, the agonies of the moth- er, and the rage of the woman scorned, were portrayed with a truth, a power, a grandeur of effect unequaled before or since by any actress or singer. Every attitude, each movement and look, became a study for a painter ; for in the storm of furi- ous passion the grace and beauty of her gestures were never marred by extravagance. Indeed, her impersonation of Me- dea was one of the finest illustrations of classic grandeur the stage has ever presented. In the scene where Medea murders her children, the acting of Pasta rose to the sublime. Her self-abandonment, her hor- ror at the contemplation of the deed she is about to perpe- trate, the irrepressible affection which comes welling up in her breast, were pictured with a magnificent power, yet with such natural pathos, that the agony of the distracted mother was never lost sight of in the fury of the priestess. Folding her arms across her bosom, she contracted her form, as, cowering, she shrunk from the ajjproach of her children; then grief, love, desjjair, rage, madness, alternately wrung her heart, until at last her soul seemed appalled at the crime she contemplated. Starting forward, she pursued the innocent creatures, while the audience involuntarily closed their eyes and recoiled be- fore the harrowing spectacle, which almost elicited a stifled cry of hori'or. But her fine genius invested the character with that classic dignity and beauty which, as in the Niobe group, veils the excess of human agony in the drapery of ideal art. The season of 1824 at the Kinsc's Theatre was remarkable for an unusually — an unnecessarily large company of singers. No less than six prima donnas appeared : Mesdames Colbran Rossini, Catalani, Ronzi di Begnis, Vestris, Caradori, and Pas- GIUDITTA PASTA. 255 ta. In tbc month of March Madame Pasta was anuonncetl, and made her first appearance April 24, The opera selected for her appearance was Otello. It might almost be termed a debut, public curiosity was so strongly excited, for Europe was now ringing with her fame. Every portion of the house wa£ filled at a very early hour, the boxes and pit being so crowded that many elegantly dressed ladies were obliged to be content with seats in the gallery. To Madame Pasta was due the idea of reviving Otello. The music was worthy of a better fate than being allied to such wretched trash as the li- bretto in which Shakspeare's beautiful tragedy had been trav- estied by a certain Marchese Berio, and tortured to suit Avhat he considered the exigencies of the lyric stage. The utmost skill botli of composer and performer was requisite to make the libretto even tolerable to an English audience. Madame Pasta's chaste and expressive style of singing ex- cited the utmost admiration ; it was never disfigured by mer- etricious ornament. "Moderate in the use of embellishments," says Stendhal, " Madame Pasta never employs them but to heighten the force of the expression ; and, what is more, her embellishments last only just so long as they are found to be useful." In this respect, her manner formed a very strong contrast with that of the generality of Italian singers at the time, who were more desirous of creating astonishment than of giving pleasure. It was not from any lack of technical knowledge and vocal skill that Madame Pasta avoided extrav- agant ornamentation, for in many of the concerted pieces — in which she chiefly shone — her execution united clearness and rapidity. " Madame Pasta is certainly less exuberant in point of ornament, and more expressive in point of majesty and sim- plicity," observed one critic, "than any of the first-class sing- ers who have visited England for a long period." " She is also a mistress of art," continues the same writer, "and, being limited by nature, she makes no extravagant use of her pow- ers, but employs them with the tact and judgment that can proceed only from an extraordinary mind. This constitutes her highest praise ; for never did intellect and industry become such perfect substitutes for organic superiority. Notwith- standing her fine vein of imagination and the beauty of her execution, she cultivates high and deep passions, and is never so great as in the adaptation of art to the purest purposes of expression. 256 QUEENS OP SONG. Madame Pasta appeared as Tancredi May 18. Of this per- formance it was said by one enthusiastic writer, " She lends her soul to the character, and seems to feel deeply the senti- ments which she utters with the heart-touching eloquence of harmony." " Di tauti palpiti," and some passages in the duet of the second act with Amenaide, were remarked as the best examples of her peculiar manner ; for, though " Di tanti pal- piti" had been set to a quadrille, and had been whistled through every street of the town, yet it excited a temjoest of aj^plause when poured from the lips of Madame Pasta. Madame Konzi di Begnis, a young and lovely woman, a lively actress and a finished singer, imparted to the character of Amenaide that passionate feeling and powerful expression in which she was sui^erior to almost allthe vocalists of the day. Her voice was not powerful, but she had the advantage of knowing its exact capability, and iu her management of it evinced much taste and science. The next character in which the great tragedian appeared was that of Romeo, Zingarelli's opera being produced first for her benefit, June 21. Giulietta Avas afterward represented by Ronzi di Begnis, but for a few nights her place was supplied by Madame Biagioli, who undertook the character at three days' notice, on account of the illness of the fair young prima donna. The libretto of this opera is a j)Oor one, but the music contains several beautiful pieces. Semiramide was the last opera brought out for Pasta in 1824. She was superb and majestic as the Assyrian queen, and realized by her regal dignity and air of command the highest conception of the cliaracter of Semiramide. Tlie scene in the first act, where the spectre of her murdered consort ap- pears, she made fearfully grand and impressive ; and those where she learns that Arsace is her son, and where she falls by his hand before the tomb of Ninus, were of almost indescrib- able effect. Madame Pasta was now at the summit of her art, and "a reigning favorite on the stage, which she had once left Avith- out exciting regret." She was universally allowed to be the greatest performer in lyric -tragedy who had appeared for years. And this recognition was due to her fine genius; she owed nothing to artifice or meretricious attraction. The ex- ercise of her histrionic and musical gifts was controlled by a GIUDITTA PASTA. 257 refined taste ; and the imperfections of her voice were reme- died by incessant cultivation, and veiled by a style noble, deli- cate, and jDure. Nothing Avas left to chance. Her brilliant talents, united to amiable manners, made her the idol of the f^ishionable world ; large sums were showered on her for ap- l^earing at private concerts, and she made a handsome profit by ner subscription concerts at Almack's Rooms. Her salary at the theatre was £14,000. Madame Colbran Rossini re- ceived £15,000. Despite the galaxy of talent at the King's Theatre, the Opera season of 1824 was a disastrous failure, j^artly owing to the enormous expense of an unnecessarily numerous company. Soon after the termination of the season, the contents of the King's Theatre were advertised for sale, and it seemed prob- able that it had closed to open no more. " Interminable dis- putes and litigations, mismanagements, and rejieated losses," says Ebers, " seemed to tlireaten ruin to whoever should be bold enough to undertake it; but by some arrangement the sale never took place, and the same manager ventured to run the hazard of renewinsr his lease." The management of the King's Theatre in 1825 made great exertions to secure Madame Pasta, who, then in the height of her popularity, was performing in Paris. She obtained a conge to the 8th of June only, being bound under heavy penalties to return to Paris by the stipulated time. Great difficulties presented themselves in the way of completing the engagement, and these at first appeared insurmountable. One was, that Benelli, the manager and sub-lessee, quitted England, leaving unpaid the greater part of her large salary for the past season ; Madame Pasta, therefore, Avas naturally unwiHing to enter into a fresh engagement with the management. " She required, then, in addition to the remuneration which might be agreed on for the employment of her services during the period of her conge," says Ebers, " that she should be paid the whole portion of her last year's salary left owing by the late manager." Mr. Allen was sent to Paris to try what could be done to induce her to come short of such a demand, and at last all was arranged, and on the 10th of May Madame Pasta made her ai)pearance at the King's Theatre in Otello^ the opera, in all its principal parts, being cast as in the preceding season. It was generally decided that her singing during this season was improved, by being more finislicd. 17 258 QUEENS OF SONG. Madame Pasta's arrival made a wonderful alteration in the prospects of the King's Theatre. Ronzi di Begnis, having totally lost her voice, had been compelled to throw up her en- gagement, and retired to Italy ; Madame Vestris had seceded from the Opera ; and Madame Caradori was unable to perform for some time. The manager, in despair, thought of engaging the young daughter of the tenor Garcia, who, he hoped, might help to prop the fortunes of the house ; and she ap- peared, but, through extreme nervousness, proved a compara- tive failure. The first novelty, and which was produced for Pasta's ben- efit. May 26th, was a revival of Paisiello's Nina, Pazza per Amore, wofully abridged, or rather mangled and curtailed into one act, and even then thought too long and tiresome ; " so entirely has taste changed, and music," sighed Lord Mount Edgecmnbe. Some declared that Nina, in which Madame Pasta had previously aj^peared in Paris in 1823, was her finest performance as an actress, though not as a singer. The story is simple and affecting, being that of an unhappy young girl driven to madness by an unrequited passion, and then restored to reason by hearing an air which she had been accustomed to sing with her lover. Madame Pasta depicted the wander- ing of intellect finely and delicately, and with touching efiect ; and the gradual return of intelligence, brightening the spirit with joy and thankfulness, was exquisitely beautiful. Her singing was characterized by simplicity and pathos, and the whole performance drew tears from her fashionable audience. At this time some j^ersons of fashion, seeking for a new sen- sation, arranged to have operas performed at their houses on Sunday night: more than one performance had been given, when they were suddenly checked. The Duke of York had been invited to one of them, and the performance was delayed for some time, as his royal highness did not make his aj)pear- ance : at length a note arrived, couched in polite terms, but plainly intimating that the Sunday ojDcras did not receive the countenance of the court. Had these operas been continued, it is certain that, in addition to the shock that would have been given to religious ideas, they would have tended to ruin the Italian theatre ; as it was, their efliect was detrimental, as some of the singers actually left the rehearsals at the King's Theatre unfinished to attend those at aristocratic houses. GIUDITTA PASTA. 259 Many of the siugers being engaged to perform nightly at three or four public and jirivate concerts, the Opera was often paralyzed by the indisposition of the vocalists in consequence. Madame Pasta performed, during the season of 1825, on ten nights and in four characters, and she actually sang at twenty- four or twenty-five concerts, receiving twenty-five guineas for each. Her operatic engagement was £1200, she sold her ben- efit to Ebers for £800, and within the brief space of four weeks she realized no less a sum than £2400. In 1826 she demand- ed £2300 for three months and a half, which was acceded to ; and the security she demanded was managed by making the money payable in three installments, the last to be paid previ- ous to her appearance on the stage. In addition to her salary, she was allowed, during the term of her engagement, a jjrivate box, twelve pit and twelve gallery tickets. She made her appearance on the 23d of April, and her pop- ularity absorbed universal attention. " At no period of Pas- ta's career had she been more fashionable," says Ebers, " than during this engagement. She had literally worked her way up to eminence, and, having attained the height, she stood on it firm and secure ; no performer has owed less to caprice or fashion : her reputation has been earned, and, what is more, deserved." Pasta had sung alternately in Paris and in London till 182G ; but, owing to some disagreement with Rossini, then charged with the direction of the Opera Italien, she would not renew her engagement with him. On quitting England in that year she went to Naples. In 1827 she reappeared in London, be- ing engaged at a salary of between two and three thousand guineas for twenty-three nights, besides a free benefit, which produced her 1500 guineas. She repeated her usual charac- ters, and her performance of Dcsdemona aflbrded an opportu- nity of comparison with Madame Malibran, with whom it was also a favorite character, and who performed it the same sea- son. It was admitted that JMalibran had the advantage in vocalization and execution, and pure musical feeling, but in high and original conception Pasta was incontestably supe- rior ; her reading of the part was totally dificrent from that of her young rival, being characterized by greater nobleness and grandeur. The novelty of the season was a serious opera, entitled Ma- 260 QUEENS OF SONG. Ha Stiia7'da, the music by Signor Coccia. The character of the unhai^i^y Mary was sustained by Madame Pasta with an " impassioned dignity, with an eloquence of voice, of look, and of action which defies description, and challenges the severest criticism. It was a piece of acting which great natural genius, extensive powers of observation, peculiar sensibility of feeling, and those acquirements of art which are the result of sedulous study, combined to render perfect." The interview with Queen EUzabeth was deeply affecting. Mary first sujjplicates, but, roused by the taunts of her persecutor, reassumes for a moment the dignity of her character and station, and then sinks again imder her sorrow. The abject humiliation of the Scottish queen was touching in the extreme, and her burst of passion was a magnificent contrast to the misery previously expressed. The last scene, when Mary takes an eternal fare- well of her weeping attendants, was unequaled for pathos, and crowned the triumph of the performance. Madame Pasta felt the situation so intensely, that when summoned before the au- dience she was always still laboring imder great agitation. In August Madame Pasta went to Dublin, accompanied by Spagnoletti, Seguin, and Madame Castelli, and then left for Italy, appearing first at Trieste. While there, when walking with some friends, a ragged child, about three years of age, approached, and asked charity for her blind mother, in such artless and touching accents, that the prima donna burst into tears, and put into the child's hands all the money she had. Her friends began extolling her charity and the goodness of her heart. " I will not accept your compliments," said she, wiping the tears from her eyes. " This child demanded char- ity in a sublime manner. I have seen, at one glance, all the miseries of the motliei-, the wretchedness of their home, the want of clothing, the cold which they sufier. I should indeed be a great actress if at any time I could find a gesture express- ing profound misery with such truth." At Naples Madame Pasta found less favor than at Trieste. Medea did not create the furore it had inspired in the colder inhabitants of the capitals of France and England, and Mayer's opera was supplanted by Pacini's JViobe, which succeeded bet- ter. The Neapolitans, caring more for the pure art of vocali- zation than for the dramatic quality of a singer, appeared una- ble to appreciate at its full value the genius of Pasta, who, dis- GIUDITTA PASTA. 261 couraged by their coldness, soon left Naples. She received more justice at Bologna, Milan, Vicuna, and Verona. In 1828 she appeared again before her English admirers in TancrecU, and afterward performed in Zelmira, in which she sang with the most exquisite feeling. Her Zelmira was by many preferred to her Tancredi, as affording greater oppor- tunity for the exertion of her dramatic as well as vocal powers; for she was always more at ease, more confident, in proportion to the magnitude of her task. After Otello, Mayer's grand serious opera of ia Hosa Bianca e la JRosa Hossa was pro- duced, with new scenery, dresses, and decorations. The li- bretto was absurd, and utterly destitute of historical accuracy, while the music was not what might have been expected from the composer of Medea — being pleasing, but nothing more. Madame Pasta distinguished herself pre-eminently by her dra- matic and vocal excellence, and, as the Earl of Derby, a young knight of the Red Rose, in a plumed helmet, looked the gal- lant cavalier to admiration. The part of Armando, in II Crociato in Efjitto^ was her next remarkable personation. The opera had been composed almost expressly for Signer Vclluti, but Past'a's success in the character in Paris had raised the curiosity of the English jDub- lic, and a violent contest ensued between the partisans of the signer and the great prima donna, which rose to such a height that there were sometimes outbreaks during the performances. Madame Pasta's version of the part was different in many re- spects from that of Velluti: she paid the most scrupulous at- tention to the tempo, which Vclluti altogether disregarded in order to introduce his favorite roulades. Her conception of the part was completely original, so that many thought they now witnessed it really for the first time. A ludicrous inci- dent occurred at the first representation, March 13th. Oji the conclusion of the trio, " Ma balzai'' quel cor' senti," which she sang with Madame Caradori and Mdlle. Brambilla, Madame Pasta flew to her dressing-room to change her costume, but the audience not allowing the performance to proceed till the trio was repeated, the prima donna hurried on to the stage again, half Crusader, half Mameluke. On her benefit night, May 15th, Madame Pasta attempted a daring experiment. Selecting Otello as the piece of the evening, she actually appeared as the jealous Moor, Mdlle. 262 QUEENS OP SONG. # Sontag being the Desclemona; but the innovation was not liked : indeed, the transposition of the music of Otello from a tenor to a mezzo-soprano voice naturally injured the effect of the concerted pieces ; nor did the songs gain by the change. But her acting was passionately grand. She did not blacken her face, but assumed a brown complexion, in order that the expressive play of her countenance, which always was one of her most powerful aids in acting, might not be lost. The last scene, where Otello seizes Desdemona, who endeavors to es- cape, grasping her by the hair and dragging her to the bed, where he stabs her, was horrifying. "Some of the spectators, iand those not a few, considered her whole deportment to have exceeded the effects which can be readily borne, and to touch the very verge of disgust." It was, however, a magnificent display of tragic power. Never had Pasta's performance been so powerful as during this season. The presence of Malibran and of Sontag, two young and glorious rivals, excited her to sujDcrhuman efforts to retain her supremacy ; and her energy, always marvelous, was now exerted to the utmost. But, while increased effect was visible in her acting, her singing was deteriorated : she never acted so well or sang so ill. Her intonation was mate- rially affected by the exertions she made, and in her anxiety not to be outstripped, she lowered her standard of .taste, and loaded her singing with the same redundancy of ornament in which her younger rivals indulged. She was considered by some to have fallen into the same class with Catalani; but her style had less force than that of Catalani only because it had less violence, while it was much more finished. She united the most elegant and cultivated vocal taste with dramatic tal- ent of almost unequaled splendor. " Madame Pasta," said a clever writer, "is in fact the founder of a new school, and after her, the possession of vocal talent alone is insufiicient to secure high favor, or to excite the same degree of interest for any length of time. Even in Italy, where the mixture of dramatic with musical science was long neglected, and not appreciated for want of persons equally gifted with both attainments, Ma- dame Pasta has exhibited to her countrymen the beauty of a school too long neglected, in such a manner that they M'ill no longer admit the notion of lyric tragedy being properly spoken without dramatic as well as vocal qualifications in its repre- sentative." I GIUDITTA PASTA. 263 In 1829 Madame Pasta was in Vienna, where she was named by the Emperor of Austria first court singer, and was presented by him with a superb diadem of the value of 400 ducats (about £180). She purchased a charming villa this year near the Lake of Como, whither she retired for some months in the summer, for repose from her exertions. During this year she performed in twelve operas by Rossini at Bolog- na, the great maestro himself directing the orchestra ; and a medal was struck in her honor by the Societa del Casino. In 1830 she performed at Vienna, in Otello and other grand operas, and thence Avent to Milan, where she was singing with Rubiui, Galli, Madame Pisaroni, Lablache, and David. Doni- zetti was then in that city, and wrote for Pasta, Eubini, and Galli his Anna Bolena, which w^as very successful, the subject being chosen with the view of developing the predominant qualities of the three lyric performers. Rubini, the "King of Tenors," Avas then about six-and-thir- ty. Ilis talents were powerfully dramatic, his voice was a pure and high tenor, rising from mi to ut from the chest, and prolonged to la in the falsetto. With a great volume of tone and a delicious timhre^ he had wonderful facility of execution ; his style being distinguished by an extraordinary fluency in ornament, and a peculiar tr^mulo on the sustained notes, which gave exquisite effect to pathetic expression. He had been originally a choir-boy, but, though his father thought highly of his talents and voice, some good people pretended that he would never be able to succeed as a singer. He worked hard, nevertheless, and after surmounting great difficulties and vicis- situdes, went to Paris in 1825, where his success was triumph- ant. His manner was full of energy, and his execution facile and finished, even when indulging in the most daring and luxuriant ornamentation. These qualities he still possessed, when, at a subsequent period on the boards of our Italian Op- era, he was one of the marvelous quartette composed of Grisi, Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache. In 1831 Pasta Avas engaged at Milan for twenty representa- tions, at a salary of 40,000 francs ; Milan thus possessing at once the two greatest singers of the time, herself and Malibran. It was at Milan that> Viucenzo Bellini wrote for her his lovely opera. La Sonnamhula^ which was thus cast : Amina, Ma- dame Pasta ; Elvino, Rubini ; Rodolfo, Mariano ; Lisa, Ma- 264 QUEENS OF SONG. dame Taccani, This deliglitful work was produced at the Teatro della Canobiana, and excited the most lively interest. Pasta and Rubini surpassed themselves. "Emulating each other in wishing to display the merits of the opera, they were both equally successful," said a critic of the day, " and those who participated in the delight of hearing them will never forget the magic effect of their execution. But, exquisite as were, undoubtedly, Madame Pasta's vocal exertions, her histri- onic powers, if possible, surpassed them. It would be difficult for those who have seen her represent, in Donizetti's excellent opera, the unfortunate Amina, with a grandeur and a dignity above all praise, to conceive that she could so change (if the expression may be allowed) her nature as to enact the part of a simple country-girl. But she has jDroved her powers to be unrivaled ; she personates a simple rustic as easily as she iden- tifies herself with Medea, Semiraraide, Tancredi, and Anna Bo- lena." In 1831, after an absence of three years, Madame Pasta re- turned to England, presenting herself in the character of Me- dea, with Rubini, Fanny Ayton, and Lablache. Her perform- ance had lost none of its wonted vigor ; on the contrary, her tragic acting was remarked as being, if possible, improved. In the scone with her children she rivaled Mrs. Siddons. Ru- bini performed the character of Egeus, and the duets between the great tenor and Pasta were exquisite. This was a happy year for Rubini, it being the first that he was allowed to have his enormous earnings in full, he having previously received only a small portion from Barbaja: those earnings had aver- aged £8000 per annum for many years. Rubini was very economical, and when he died in 1854, left behind him a foi'- tune of £90,000. In Gnecco's Prova cVirn Opera Seria, Pasta appeared to unusual advantage, and showed much versatility in this amus- ing caricature of the rehearsals of a serious opera at the house of the prima donna and at the theatre. Alternately arch, Avhirasical, playful, and capricious, she provoked roars of laugh- ter by her burlesque singing, without advancing a step toward vulgarity. Lablache, in the character of the composer, Avas irresistibly droll, especially iu the quarrel scene between him- self and Pasta. Anna Bolena was produced for Madame Pasta's benefit, GIUDITTA PASTA. 265 when Lablache performed Henry VIII. The mighty basso always thoroughly studied every part he imdertook, and on this occasion he startled the house by his extraordinary re- semblance to Holbein's portrait of the arbitrary monarch. In December, Madame Pasta, after singing at Paris, took leave of her French admirers with an extra performance, con- sisting of Z« Prova iVun Opera Seria and a concert, at which all the principal singers of the establishment assisted. Her last triumph was obtained at La Scala in 1832. There was an admirable company assembled that season : Pasta, the young Giulia Grisi, Donzelli, and others. Bellini wrote for these artistes his opera of Korma. Pasta performed the Druidic priestess, Donzelli her lover, Pollionc, and Giulia Grisi the fair Adalgisa. Madame Pasta appeared in this opera the following year in London. It was produced Thursday, June 2d, for her benefit, being the chief novelty of the season, and was directed by the composer himself. Adalgisa was performed by Ma- dame De Meric, Pollione by Donzelli, Orovcso by Signer V. Galli. It was not at first liked, though after a little while the public discovered its beauty. Pasta's acting alone saved the opera from being almost a fiasco. For several years after this, Pasta continued to perform in Paris and the principal theatres in Italy with undiminished eclat. In 1837 she revisited England, and appeared at the King's Theatre in Medea, Norma, Anna Bolena, and other characters ; but it now began to be remarked that though, as nn actress, she was as great as ever, her vocal powers were beginning to fail, especially in regard to intonation. This was her last season in England, for it is not necessary to take into account a short visit in 1850, when she ai-)peared only twice in public. She continued, nevertheless, to receive Continental honors. In 1830 she was elected an honorary member of the celebrated Accademia di Santa Cecilia at Rome; and in 1840, after a splendid season at St. Petersburg and Moscow, she was pre- sented by the Czar with a valuable ring. In 1841 she went to Berlin. The Berlinese regarded her with deep sympathy and commiseration, for she had lost al- most her entire fortune — the Avell-earned reward of her splen- did talents — by the failure of the great bank of Guymuller at Vienna. She appeared at the Royal Opera House in a dra- M 266 QUEENS OP SONG. matic concert, ■with Herr Zschiesche and Dem. Lehmann, in costume, the music selected being from Semiramide^ and (with Signer Gamberini) a part of Otello. Subsequently she appear- ed at the Konigstadtischen Theater in Anna BoUna^ with Signora Ferlotti and Signor Paltrinieri, a singer with a fine baritone. She also performed in Norma and Tancredi; then, in compliance with the wish of the king, twice in Semiramide, performing altogether eleven times. In October she was at Leipzig. But neither her voice nor her physical strength were now what they had been, and she wisely retired from the scene of her triumphs. For many years she had resided during the winter at Milan or Genoa, and during the summer at her villa at Como, occupying her leisure in giving to artistes very valu- able lessons. Mademoiselle Parodi was her most distinguish- ed pupil. Madame Pasta had one child, a daughter, born about 1825. CATHAErCfE STEPHENS. 267 CHAPTER XXI. CATHAEINE STEPHENS. The transition from the trium])!! of the commanding genius of a Pasta to the sweet and artless Catharine Stephens is Uke the sensation one would feel on emerging from a classic tem- ple or a gorgeous saloon into a scene of simple nature, clothed with the fresh beauty of the spring. The year before Angelica Catalani made her debut at the Fenice, there was born in London, on the 18th of Sei:)tember, 1794, a child who was afterward to earn for herself the fame of a prima donna; this was Catharine Stephens; the daughter of a carver and gilder in Park Street, Grosvenor Square. At her earliest age she afforded evidences that she M-ould be a fine singer some day : she lisped in song. Her elder sister (afterward Mrs. J. Smith) had also a love of music, and the two girls trilled like larks. At length their father felt it his duty to have them properly taught. "While Catharine was try- ing to master the elements of musical science, her sister made her debut at Liverpool, from whence she came to Drnry Lane, appearing there in the character of Miss Hoyden in the 7/v}? to ScarhoroufjJi^ and Lucy in the Virgin Unmasked. Catha- rine was then, in 1807, placed imder the tuition of Gesualdo Lanza, a well-known musical professor. From him she learn- ed quickly to sing at sight with perfect correctness, and went steadily not only through all the gradations of solfeggi, but through a severe course of vocal exercises, with the view of acquiring facility of execution ; she also studied a multitude of pieces of music selected by Signor Lanza from the best En- glish and Italian Operas and from Oratorios. While Avith Signor Lanza she sang at Bath, P>ristol, and many places along the south coast, and on the 3d of October, 1812, she sang at Ramsgate at a concert given by Mr. Samuel Wesley and Mr. Webb, jun., " where," said Samuel Wesley, "she received the greatest and most deserved applause." When there, being called upon to try, at sight, some manu- 268 QTJEEXS OF SONG. * script glees, she acquitted herself in a manner -which surprised the most excellent judges. Her friends, becoming impatient at her apparently tardy progress imder Lanza, transferred her to the charge of Mr. Thomas Welsh ; and, to poor Lanza's great mortification, she appeared on the l7th or 18th of that same October at Manchester as " Mr. Welsh's pupil." During her studies, Catharine Stephens had been heard by Signor Galiloni, who recommended her to the managers of the Opera House, to supply the place of Madame Catalani ; but, not being perfect in Italian, she was then ineligible for the King's Theatre. On the 23d of September, 1813, Catharine made her first ac- knowledged appearance at Covent Garden as Mandane in Ar- taxerxes, under the name of Miss Stevens, with complete suc- cess. Her execution of " Check'd by duty, rack'd by love," and "The Soldier tired," was particularly admired. But for great ladies she was not well suited, either in person, voice, or style. She was now nineteen ; her figure, of medium height, was pretty, but inclined to embonpoint ; her hair and eyes were dark, and though not, strictly speaking, handsome, her countenance had an indescribable fascination, owing to the in-. genuous simplicity and unaffected sweetness of her nature. Her manner in private life was easy, mild, and artless, and she was blithe and joyous as a child ; in truth, her animal spirits would sometimes completely run away with her; and even on the stage, while playing parts which needed a serious de- meanor, if any thing provoked her mirth, she would be in ago- nies, struggling between a desire to laugh and the fear of of- fending the audience. The tones of her voice were rich and dulcet, and captivated the ear ; its quality was full and liquid beyond that of any other singer then in England ; its volume was such that it could be distinctly heard above the band and chorus, and its compass reached to the high D. Her ornaments were cor- rect and neat, and her execution was good, but not remarka- ble either for rapidity or variety. She did not aim at " stage effect," and her singing consequently had the peculiar charm of sincerity and artlessness. She seemed to sing from the im- pulse of her happy, joyous nature, and the delight she felt was conveyed to her audience. There was no fire, no deep senti- ment, no dramatic power ; she had high cultivation, science, CATHAKINE STEPHENS. 269 polish, but she warbled so calmly and easily that the audience, if not deeply moved, were charmed. Simple airs of innocent pathos were her specialty ; loftier efforts seemed neither adapted to her taste nor suited to her talent. She appeared as Polly in the Begyar''s Opera on the 22d of October, and after that she sang under her own name. Her personation of Polly was exquisite. "Two hours spent at this performance," said an enthusiastic admirer, " is a little glossy portion of the stream of life — a season of calm joy, which it is tranquillizing even to remember." The unobtrusive- ness of her style, the very " bewitching awkwardness" of her manner, completed the pleasure whicli her performance aflbrd- ed. On the 12th of November she perfoi-med Clara in the Duenna. Then she appeared as Rosetta, whicli she acted charmingly. In the song, "Young I am, and sore afraid," the ill -repressed laugh, and the irony gleaming through her feigned tears, were most admirable. Iler freshness, her sim- plicity, atoned for any coldness of conception. When she ad- vanced to sing, with a lovely pleading look in her eyes, depre- cating criticism, the heart was at once enlisted in her favor, and it was impossible to find fault with the singer while the woman thus disarmed the critic. The softness and delicacy of her voice, and the purity of her taste, were universally ac- knowledged, and she was admitted to be exempt from the prevailing sin of a mixture of styles. Her own style was best adapted for ballad-singing: such songs as "Auld Robin Gray," and "Savourneen Deelish," she sang with so much ease, pouring forth her sweet, rich tones with birdlike volubility, that it was impossible to imagine her suffering from the distress which the song was written to por- tray. " Even the effects of her full and fine crescendo and dy- ing fall are lost," observed a writer in the Quarterly Musical Beview, " and it is by them that the workings of passion or the sinkings of the soul arc pictured." But there is a pecul- iar charm in the simple utterance of a ballad by a sweet, round, ringing voice, which is deejily felt, and the heart is the more surely touched because of the absence of effort or inten- tion on the part of the siuger. If Miss Stephens was incapable of force, passion, or brilliancy, it was owing to an innate re- serve that veiled her powers, for in private society she threw off every tinge of coldness. " I have heard her sing ' Auld 270 QUEENS OF SONG. Robin Gray,' without the music, in a style that certainly came from the heart, and went at once to the heart," said another writer. The public were charmed with a singer so thoroughly En- glish^ and the manager gave her what was then considered a large salary — twelve pounds a week for the first year for sing- ing thrice a week, and twenty pounds the second year. Of this salary Mr. Welsh received half, though it was rather due to poor Lanza. In March, 1814, Miss Stephens made her first appearance at the Ancient Concerts in Acis and Galatea^ and during this season her talents were severely tested in the most popular arias, such as " Ye sacred priests," " Angels ever bright and fair," " Holy, holy," " Mad Bess," « Pious Orgies," " I know that my Redeemer liveth," " From rosy bowers," " Berenice, ove sei?" with many others. Immediately after her debut at the Ancient Concerts she sang at the fourth of the Philhar- monic Society's Concerts with Braham, and in July she sang at two concerts at York. Her singing of sacred music seemed to want that depth of pathos and exalted fervor which awaken the soul. She excelled in the simple, pure, chaste English style ; and she was fitted for homely characters in low come- dy, not for fine ladies or fashionable heroines. As a singer only, however, she pleased in every thing; her dulcet notes were sufiiciently charming in themselves, and a certain native quiet humor and sense of enjoyment supplied the place of higher attributes. Her execution of the " Pretty Mocking- Bird" was often cited as one of the most perfect specimens of vocal power ever heard. One result of her serene and smooth vocalization was that the ear never became satiated with her efiects; she had no favorite passages, no pet cadence intro- duced alike into all her songs : no musical mannerism disfig- ured her style. In February, 1815, a piece called Brother and Sister, by Bishop and Reeve, was produced. In this Miss Stephens sang a song by Bishop, wherein, in imitation of Braham's song in ITarensJcy, she gave an echo to her own voice. Its success was extraordinary : the echo of her own voice seemed as if it was produced, not by the singer, but by a viewless power, so aerial and delicate were its tones. She achieved a triumph in this song, which always remained a favorite. CATHAKIXE STEPHENS. 271 Miss Stephens's character in private life was most amiable ; polite and easy in her manner, she was also benevolent and charitable without ostentation. On the occasion of a benefit for Diilwich Hospital, she not only returned the price of her f services, thirty guineas, but added ten from her own purse ; and again in DubUu she gave to the poor £330, the proceeds of a benefit concert. And these are only a few instances of her generosity. She was Avholly unaffected, and never arro- gated to herself undue consideration because she was a popu- lar singer. " I shall never forget seeing her at a private par- ty," says an author in KnigMs Quarterly Magazine, " where, with the most unafiiected good -nature, she offered to sing second to a child with a very beautiful voice. 'If I am wanted,' she said ; but she did not make the offer until a real difiiculty had arisen about a singer, so it was evident that her only motive was to be of use." Toward her professional com- rades she was exceedingly kind, and was ever ready to take their place, even at a moment's notice, if they needed it. She was industrious in study, feeling that it was necessary she should work to retain the reputation she had earned, aud for eight or sometimes nine hours a day she practiced all the year round, only relaxing when her throat needed rest from exer- tion, and then she would take a walk until it had recovered from the fatigue. One gentleman who lost his heart to her in 1815 regularly attended all her performances. Waiting till the doors were opened, he seated himself in the third or fourth row of the pit, and the instant the opera was concluded, flew round and placed himself at the stage-door, to catch a glinijose of the en- chantress as she passed to her carriage. He was so despe- rately smitten that ho followed her to Ipswich, and once even, it was believed, to Dublin, in hopes of meeting her if she by chance should go out for a walk ; but he never had the cour- age to gain an introduction. The ill-fated gentleman, sad to relate, ended his days in a lunatic asylum ; but whether he went mad through love for the charming Kitty, or whether he fell in love because he was a madman, is a problem not now to be solved. The extraordinary popularity of Mozart's Don Giovanni at the King's Theatre induced the proprietor of Covent Garden to bring out an English version of the opera, arranged by Mr. 272 QUEENS OF SONG. BishoiD. It was produced on the 20th of May, 1817, and the principal parts were well sustained by Sinclair, Duruset, and Miss Stephens. As Donna Anna she was not equal to Ma- dame Fodor, but she was encored in the beautiful air in the second act. The success of this production originated the practice of adapting to the English stage the most emhient works of foreign composers. The operas in which Miss Stephens performed were, how- ever, generally very indifierent, and little worthy even of a passing notice, being nothing more than " operatic dramas." In February, 1821, she ajjpeared in the Beggar's Opera^ but very soon after she broke with Covent Garden in consequence of dlisputes with the manager. She received a salary of twen- ty pounds for playing thrice in each week, but she demanded an advance of five pounds a week. The manager objected, there being a rule requiring that if one performer's salary was raised, all must be advanced. The proprietors offered to make up the amount by presents, but the popular singer refused this reasonable arrangement ; and then she demanded ten pounds a night. This was peremptorily refused, and she went olT to Drury Lane, then under the management of Elliston, She did not agree much better with him ; indeed, he did not act well toward her. One of the conditions in the articles of agreement entered into by the leading performers was that they should not be required to appear in pantomimes; yet, on the production oi Harlequin and the flying CAes^, Elliston summoned all his singers to take part in the music. Relying on the terms of her articles, Miss StejDhens paid no attention to this call, so Elliston inflicted a heavy fine. She was indig- nant, and remonstrated : " I never agreed to go on in a pan- tomime," said she, a little passionately. " My dear soul," an- swered the wily manager, " I don't wish it. I only want you to join in the chorus ofii'the wings;" and he retained the fine. At Drury Lane Miss Stephens received but little attention, owing probably to the exceedingly indifierent music she was condemned to sing. The pieces were at first pretty good, though garbled and maltreated. Dramatized adaj^tations of Scott's novels, and difiereut ephemeral operettas, formed the repertoire from which Miss Stephens had to choose her parts. In August, 1822, she appeared in Der Freischictz, -with. Braham and T. Cook. This opera gave great satisfaction to the fre- CATHAEINE STEPHENS. 273 quenters of Drury Lane ; but what with " introductions" and " omissions," it must have been a droll affair. In 1830 Bishop went over to Paris, when Guillcmme Tell was at its height of popularity. He attended the performance two or three times, took notes literally as well as figuratively, and, returning to England, produced, in conjunction w^ith Mr. Planche, Hofer^ the Tdl of the Tyrol. This piece was very splendidly mount- ed, and brought forward at Covent Garden, May 1, 1830, with Miss Stephens, Madame Yestris, H. PhilUps, and Smclair, m the leading characters. Miss Stephens's earnings were now on an average about £5000 per annum. The theatre yielded her £1500; the An- cient Concerts produced £330 ; the oratorios £200 ; occasional appearances at the Philharmonic, City Amateur, and the City Concerts, about £200 more. Iler earnings by singing at pri- vate parties could not be computed : by a visit to Ireland alone she gained £5000. Young, charming, clever, and rich too — for she was prudent as fortunate — of a generous nature, an affectionate daughter, a kind sister, and an amiable friend ' — some surprise was felt that she should not have married. Lord Milton was at one time supposed to be madly enamored of the fair English songstress ; and the Duke of Devonshire too, at whose splendid parties she frequently appeared, was thought to be in love with her. At last the Earl of Essex, a widower, who had long been her ardent admirer, offered her a coronet, was accepted, and the marriage took place Thurs- day, March 14, 1838, at his lordship's house in Belgrave Square. The bridegroom was eighty -two, the bride forty -five. The earl settled on his bride a splendid jointure, and allowed her to leave her relations the whole of her own property, which had so long been at their disposal. He survived but a short time to enjoy her society, and by his death she became Dow- ager Countess of Essex. 18 M 2 274 QUEE^fS or SONG. CHAPTER XXII. ■ MAKT ANNE PATON. TowAED the end of the last century, a respectable and well- educated tutor, named Paton, was at the head of a mathemat- ical seminary in Edinburgh, and his classes were so numerous- ly attended that, for a considerable time, he was in the receipt of £2000 i^er annum. His family consisted of Mary Anne, Isabella, and Eliza. Mary Anne, the eldest, was born in 1802. Mary Anne had a gift and a passion for music from her earliest childhood. When only two years old she could name any tone or semitone on hearing it sounded. She sang like a skylark, and was perpetually warbling her " wood-notes wild," flying about the house, and scattering in sportive profusion trills and shakes on every note in her voice. She joyfully agreed, while yet a child, to imdergo the drudgery of learning the harp and piano-forte, and when little more than four years of age, in 1806, she performed on these instruments. Not content with executing the compositions of others, she next insisted on producing some of her own, and in 1807 some fan- tasias, etc., were published under her name. Her infantile tal- ent attracted the notice of the Duchess of Buccleugh, with whom, one of her biographers gravely asserts, Mary Anne, at the age of ^ye, held a correspondence regarding some of her baby musical productions. In 1810 Miss Paton appeared at several concerts in Edin- burgh, where she sang, played on the harp and piano-forte, and recited Collins's " Ode to the Passions" (a favorite piece with young ladies at the period), "Alexander's Feast," and some similar morceaux. Some of these concerts were patron- ized by the Duchess of Buccleugh, the Duchess of Gordon, and other distinguished ladies. The young girl had no other instructors, it may be observed, up to this time, than her father and mother. This circumstance afterward proved disadvan- tageous to her in many respects, when she came into competi- tion with the leading singers of the day. MAEY A2>0 first time in English, May 14th. The whole performance was la- mentably inferior to that at the Opera House in 1832. Norma was produced June 25th, Schroder Devrient being seconded by Wilson, Giubilei, and Miss Betts. She was either very ill advised or overconfident, for her "massy" style of singing was totally at variance with the light beauty of Bellini's music. Her conception of the character, however, was in the grandest style of histrionic art. " The sibyls of Michael Angelo are not more grand," exclaimed one critic; "but the vocalization of Pasta and Grisi is wholly foreign to her," During this en- gagement Madame Schruder Devrient was often unable to perform from serious illness. She took her benefit July Vth, when La Sonnambtda was performed; and Tuesday the 16th, the theatre closed with Fidelio. From England she went to the Lower Rhine, In 1839 she was at Dresden with Herr Tichatschek, one of the first tenors of Germany, a handsome man, with a powerful, sweet, and ex- tensive voice. In June, 1841, she gave a performance at Ber- lin, to assist the Parisian subscription for a monument to Cher- ubini. The opera was Les Deux Journees, in which she took her favorite part of Constance. The same year she sang at Dresden, with the utmost success, in a new role in Goethe's Tasso, in which she was said to surpass her Fidelio. She then went to LeijDzig, and early the next year returned to Dresden, For some years Madame Schroder Devrient resided in per- fect seclusion in the little town of Rochlitz, in Saxony, She was almost forgotten, when suddenly she reappeared on the stage at Dresden as Romeo, in Bellini's I Montecchi ed i Cap- xdetti. Although not so great a singer as in the days when she had been accustomed to carry away her audiences by the irresistible power of her i^erformance, yet her success was im- mense. Shortly after, Gliick's Iphigenie en Aulis was revived. Madame Schroder Devrient performed Clytemnestra; Johanna WILHELMIXA SCHKODEE DEVKIENT. 295 Wagner, Iphigenie ; Mitterwurzer, Agamemnon ; Ticliatschek, Achilles. She was again at Dresden in 1849, when she married a rich Livonian proprictaire named Bock, with whom she retired to Livonia. In October her mother died at Raudnitz, in Saxony, at the advanced age of eighty-four. The Emperor Francis I. paid Madame Schroder an honor which no other German ar- tiste ever received. He ordered her portrait to be drawn in all her principal characters, and placed in the collection iu the Imperial Museum. About 1854, Scudo saw Madame Schroder Devrient at Paris in many exclusive houses, and in a public concert, " where she sang with a very weak voice the melodies of Schubert." She was a woman of intelligence and acute observation ; as an ar- tiste, full of impetuosity and ardor ; a lyric tragedian perhaps, rather than a singer in the ordinary sense of the word. She might be said to belong to the group of singers who were the interpreters of that school of dramatic music which arose in Germany after the death of Mozart. Her son, Carl Devrient, appeared in 1857 with his father at Hanover, in Don Carlos^ on the anniversary of the birthday of Schiller. Madame Schroder Devrient died February 9th, 1860, at Cologne. The following year her bust was placed in the Opera House at Berlin. The great German artiste, whose life was much agitated by a variety of adventures, left a kind of journal wherein she re- corded her different impressions, and which testified how much she had suffered during a career replete with triumphs. One of the Leipzig papers published numerous extracts from this journal. 296 QUEENS OF SONG. CHAPTER XXIV. HENEIETTA SONTAG. Henrietta Sontag, or Sonntag, born May 13, 1805, at Coblentz, was a graceful and vivacious child, with a lovely silver-toned voice, and the darling of her father, who was an actor of genteel comedy. From her cradle she was destined by her parents for their own profession, and, when six years old, appeared for the first time on the stage, at the court thea- tre of Hesse Darmstadt, in an opera entitled Donau Weibchen (the Daiighter of the Danube). Her infantine prettiness, her naivete, her silver-toned voice, and the accuracy of her intona- tion, made her a pet at once. In her eighth year her voice had already acquired much steadiness, and, to gratify neigh- bors and friends, Henrietta's mother would place her on the table and bid her sing. A distinguished traveler relates hav- ing seen her sing in this manner the grand aria of the " Queen of Night," in the Zauberjlote, " her arms hanging beside her, and her eye following the flight of a butterfly, while her voice, pure, penetrating, and of angelic tone, flowed as unconsciously as a limpid rill from the mountain side." In her ninth year Henrietta lost her father, when the wid- owed Madame Sontag .took her daughters to Prague, where Henrietta played the parts of children under the direction of Weber, then chef-d'orchestre of the theatre. These early suc- cesses obtained for her, as a very sjDecial favor, permission to attend the courses of the Conservatoire of Prague, although she had not yet attained the prescribed age — twelve — she be- ing only eleven. During four years she here studied vocal music, the piano-forte, and the elements of harmony. Pixis, for whom she always retained a lively afiection, taught her the piano ; Bayer, the celebrated flutist, and Madame Czezka, instructed her in vocalization; and the maitre de chapelle, Tribensee, taught her the rudiments of music ; and she suc- cessively won the prize in every class of this great school of music. J HENRIETTA SONTAG. 299 A sudden indisposition of the prima donna gave Henrietta an unexpected opportunity of appearing in the rather import- ant part of the Princesse de Navarre, in Boicldieu's opera of Jean de Paris. She was then only fifteen, and being very small, the little vocalist was supplied with heels four inches high ; so, when the little prodigy appeared on her cork ped- estals, the house was filled with cheers and acclamations; but the emotion which agitated her did not injure her success. Her next part was the far more difiicult one of the heroine in Paer's fine ojDcra, Sargino. The brilliant success she had achieved decided her career, and, leaving the Conservatoire, she went to Vienna, where she had an oj^portunity of hearing Madame Fodor, who was engaged at the theatre there. Ad- miring the talents of the French cantatrice, Henrietta endeav- ored to impress on her mind the practical lessons which she thus received, and which were as profitable as all the studies she had j^ursued in the Conservatoire. The admiration was reciprocated by Madame Fodor, who, on hearing the young girl sing for the first time, exclaimed, "Had I her voice, I should hold the entire world at my feet!" Singing alternately in German and Italian opera, with the most experienced colleagues, Rubiui among others, Henrietta Sontag was perfected in the two languages, and Avas enabled at the same time to choose between the brilliancy of Italian music and the sober profundity of the German school. The English embassador, Earl Clanwilliam, became one of her most ardent admirers ; he followed her to the theatre, to concerts, and even in her walks to church. Sontag, in German, means Sunday, and the Viennese wits nicknamed the embassador Earl Montag, as Monday follows Sunday. In November, 1823, Weber produced his Euryanthc, at the Karnthnerthor Theater, Mdlle. Sontag taking the leading part ; but the public were so little pleased that they called the o^e- v2iL''Ennayante. With the exception of the chorus of hunts- men, the music was not liked. Mdlle. Sontag, in 1824, was engaged to sing in German ope- ra at the theatre at Leipzig. She gained great aj^j^lause by the manner in which she interpreted the Freischiltz and the Eiiry- anthe of Weber, then almost in their flush of novelty. Her young sister Nina performed at the same time in childi'en's \ 300 QUEEXS OP SONG. characters. Here commenced the serious part of her art life. Henrietta's voice was a pm-e soprano, reaching perhaps from A or B to D in alt, and, though uniform in its quality, it was a little reedy in the lower notes, but its flexibility was marvel- ous : in the high octave, from F to C in alt, her notes rang out like the tones of a silver bell. The clearness of her notes, the precision of her intonation, the fertility of her invention, and the facility of her execution, were displayed in bi-illiant flights and lavish fioriture ; her rare flexibility being a natural gift, cultivated by taste and incessant study. It Avas to the example of Madame Fodor that Mdlle. Sontag was indebted for the blooming of those dormant qualities which had till then remained undeveloped. The ease with which she sang was perfectly captivating ; and the neatness and elegance of her enunciation combined with the sweetness and brilliancy of her voice, and her perfect intonation, to render her execution fault- less, and its effect ravishing. She appeared to sing with the volubility of a bird, and to experience the pleasure she impart- j ed. To use the language of a critic of that day, " All pas- sages are alike to her, but she has aj)propriated some that were hitherto believed to belong to instruments — to the piano- ^fbrte and the violin, for instance. Arpeggios and chromatic scales, passages ascending and descending, she executed in the same manner that the ablest performers on these instruments execute them. There was the firmness and the neatness that / appertain to the piano-forte, while she would go through a / scale staccato with the precision of the bow. Her great art, / however, lay in rendering whatever she did pleasing. The [ ear was never disturbed by a harsh note. The velocity of her passages was sometimes itncontrollable, for it has been ob- served that in a division, say of four groups of quadruplets, she would execute the first in exact time, the second and third would increase in rapidity so much that in the fourth she was compelled to decrease the speed perceptibly, in order to give the band the means of recovering the time she had gained." Mdlle. Sontag was of middle stature, neither full nor slen- der, with a face expressive of delicacy, sensibility, and mod- esty united; she had light hair (between blonde and auburn), fair complexion, large blue eyes, softly penciled lips, and reg- ular white teeth, and an aspect of sweetness and good humor ; / IIEXEIETTA SONTAG. 301 but her features were by no means striking, or capable of vi- vacious or tragic expression. Her elegant form, the delicacy of her features, the exquisite proportion of her hands and feet, and her beautiful and soft expressive eyes, completed the en- chantment exercised by this fair cantatrice. She could not command, but she won admiration by her easy, quiet, and re- served, yet artless and unafiected lady-like demeanor. As an actress, though not great, she justly claimed applause. Nei- ther in her action nor in her singing did she display any grand- eur or depth of feeling; but while she could not aspire to be a tender and impassioned Leonora, a thrilling Medea, she was a captivating Rosina, a bewitching Susanna, In light and ele- gant comedy, whether as actress or singer, she has rarely been excelled. She possessed all the originality of her own nation, while emulating the flexibility of the Italians. With equal skill she could render the Avorks of Rossini, Mozart, Weber, and Spohr, joining to the^^we and power of the German the volubility and facility of French and Italian singers. Such was her success in Leipzig that she was called to Ber- lin to sinG; in the Koenisfstadt Theater. Her studies at Vicn- na had prepared her to sing in the operas of Rossini; but the music of this illustrious maestro, which was enthusiastically admired in the capital of Austria, was not duly estimated at Berlin. Mdlle. Sontag was therefore chiefly heard in some German operas, in which she gained great renown through- out Germany, and she made the fortune of the theatre which possessed her. It was not merely admiration and delight which she inspired, but an enthusiasm which manifested itself in the most extravagant demonstrations of rapture whenever she appeared. The old King of Prussia received her at his court with paternal kindness. About this time Mdlle. Sontag became acquainted with Count Rossi, a Piedmontese nobleman, then secretary to the Legation of Sardinia at Berlin, and their marriage was ar- ranged to take place. After a sojourn of two years at Berlin, Mdlle. Sontag de- termined to visit Paris. When she announced her intention, the Berlin public were very angry : they told her she might either go or stay, for they didn't care in the least, while they vented their spleen in very unequivocal marks of resentment, and, to spite her, petted a rival singer. Such conduct Avas not 302 QUEENS OF SONG. calculated to induce her to forego her intentions, and at the end of May, 1826, she profited by a conge, which was granted her, to go to the French capital. In the Parisian salons, in the daily papers, in the cafes and restaurants, people laughed at the idea of la petite Allemande, who was daring enough to appear in the part of Rosina in II Barhiere di Seviglia. What audacious self-confidence this Sontag — this German Frau must be endowed with, to dare to step on a scene where Pasta, Cinti, and Fodor had shone ! It was ridiculous ! What could M. le Vicomte Sosthenes de la Rochefoucault be dreaming of? On the 15th of June Mdlle. Sontag appeared, and curiosity to hear how the German vocalist would maltreat the music of Rossini caused the theatre to be filled to overflowing. The audience expected to see a bold, robust songstress with a harsh voice. What w^as their amazement when there flitted on to the stage, in all her shy, blushing beauty, a young girl of scarce twenty summers, whose aspect at once disarmed criticism. The first silvery tones of her voice in recitative produced a re- action in her favor ; thunders of applause broke forth, and the singer's courage, which had wavered for a moment, was now assured. Her execution of the air with Rode's variations, in the second act, distanced even Madame Catalani, who had till then been invincible. The enthusiasm of the Parisian public rose to its full height, and was undiminished by twenty-three subsequent representations ; and she immediately received the appropriate sobriquet of the Nightingale of the North. The principal operas in which she appeared were II Bar- Mere^ La Donna del Lago^ and Ultaliana in Algieri. In this last the leading airs were transposed for a soprano voice. On the occasion of her benefit she was crowned on the stage, and elegant devices of a complimentary kind were thrown at her feet. The charming young German was petted and caressed by the Parisian aristocracy, and, through the Prussian embas- sador, she was honored with a state dinnei*. She was pi-esent- ed to Alexander von Humboldt and to the Princess Dalbei'- gischen, and required no letters of introduction to render her welcome in the highest circles. At the house of Talleyrand, the young cantatrice being introduced by the Duchess of Dino to Madame de Baudemont, the strong-minded Duchess von Lothringen, was thus complimented : " I would not desire that HENKIETTA SONTAG. 303 my daughter were other than you." The society of a German singer — a thing before unheard of — was now sedulously court- ed by ladies of the highest fashion in Paris ; and Benjamin Constant and his wife (the Countess Ilardenberg) made her acquainted with the elite of the Rei^ublican party. Madame Catalani, it is reported, declared of her, " Elle est la premiere de son genre, mais son genre n'est pas le premier ;" and a professor of great reputation and experience introduced a celebrated flute-player to her in these words — " Ecco il tuo rivale !" Mdlle. Sontag was always supposed to be on the point of marriage, and princes, musicians, romantic young heroes were imagined by turns to aspire to the honor of her hand, and to be dying of love for her. No singer was ever rumored to have so many honorably disposed lovers at her feet. A mu- sician of celebrity* and a gentleman of high rank asked her in marriage about this time, but she rejected both offers without reserve, yet with kindness and delicacy ; her troth had been already pledged. Her health failed for a time, but the sea- bathing of Boulogne restored her, and she was in blooming health when she started, at the end of September, 182G, on her return to Berlin. She was offered fabiilous terms in Paris if she would give up Berlin, but her heart and her duty steeled her against every temptation. On her route she made large sums by singing, and received numerous handsome testimonies to the esteem in which she was held. Just before she left Paris, Ebers wrote offering her £2000 and a benefit for the season. This offer it was impos- sible for her to accept, as she was under a contract for Berlin ; he wrote again, volunteering to pay the forfeit which she might incur by the breach of her contract ; but, not wishing to break her faith with the Berlin public, she refused. She received a hearty welcome in Weimar and Frankfort. In Hainz, the home of her parents, she went to see her grand- mother, and she also visited her father's grave, and gave her needy relatives proofs of her generosity ; she sang in the the- atre for the poor, sought out the gray-headed Mathison, that she might receive the last blessing of the aged poet, and left the home of her father laden with love and kind wishes. * Charles dc Beriot. 304 QUEENS OF SONG. The Berlin people did not prove ungrateful for the prefer- ence their favorite had shown for them, though on her first reaj^pearance in U Italiana in Algieri they affected to be still A'ery cross, in order that they might be coaxed a little. There was a brilliant comj^any of singers assembled t|iat season in Berlin, and Madame Catalani and Mdlle. Scheckner shared the glory of the day with Sontag. The King of Prussia engaged her for his chapel at a yearly salary of 20,000 francs, about £840. Early in 1828 she was again in Paris, at the same time with Malibran, who had reigned the preceding season. Mdlle. Son- tag apjDcared as a novelty in La Cenerentola j but the music of this ojDera suifered very much from being transposed for a soprano voice. The Parisian public, which always had a pen- chant for fomenting musical rivalries and jealousies, put in di- rect opposition the cool, placid German, and the ardent, pas- sionate Spaniard ; yet, excepting that they both could sing, there was very little in common between the two : however, the war waged long and hotly, occasioning ill feeling and dis- cord. Mdlle. Sontag appeared in London at the King's Theatre, April 16, as Rosina in Rossini's II Darhiere, a character which affords every opportunity for the display of lightness and gay- ety ; and of all modern ojDeras, it is the best adapted to her style. Since Mrs. Billington, never had such high promise been made, or so much expectation excited : her talents had been exaggerated by report, and her beauty and charms ex- tolled as matchless; she was declared to jDOSsess all the quali- ties of every singer in perfection, and as an actress to be the very personification of grace and power. Stories of the ro- mantic attachments of foreign princes and English lords were afloat in all directions : she was going to be married to a per- sonage of the loftiest rank — to a German prince — to an embas- sador; she was pursued by the ardent love of men of fashion. Among other stories in circulation was one of a duel between two imaginary rival candidates for a ticket of admission to her performance; but the most aflecting and trustworthy story was that of an early attachment between the beautiful Henri- etta and a young student of good family, which was broken off in consequence of his passion for gambling. Mdlle. Sontag, before she appeared at the Opera, sang at the houses of Prince Esterhazy and the Duke of Devonshire. HEXKIETTA SONTAG. 305 An immense crowd assembled in front of the theatre on tlie evening of her debut at the Opera. The crush -was dreadful ; and when at length the half-stifled crowd managed to find seats, " shoes were held up in all directions to be owned." The audience waited in breathless suspense for the rising of the curtain ; and when the fair cantatrice appeared, the excited throng could scarcely realize that the simple English-looking girl before them was the celebrated Sontag. On recovering from their astonishment, they applauded her warmly, and her lightness, brilliancy, volubility, and graceful manner made her at once popular. Her style was more florid than that of any other singer in Europe, not even excepting Catalani, whom she excelled in fluency, though not in volume ; and it was decid- ed that she resembled Fodor more than any other singer — — which was natural, as she had in early life imitated that can- tatrice. Her taste was so cultivated that the redundancy of oi'nament, especially the obligato passages which the part of Rosina presents, never, in her hands, appeared overcharged ; and she sang the cavatina "Una voce poco fa" in a style as new as it was exquisitely tasteful. "Two passages, introduced by her in this air, executed in a staccato manner, could not have been surpassed in perfection by the spirited bow of the finest violin-player." In the lesson-scene she gave Rode's va- riations, and her execution of the second variation in arpeggios was pronounced infinitely superior to Catalani's. Mdlle. Sontag ajipeared successively in the Cenerentola^ La Gazza Laclra^ as Zerlina in JDon Giovanni, and as Elena in La Donna del Larjo, in which she achieved a new success. The part of Elena abounds in opportunities for the display of vocalization, and the tranquil situations do not demand energy or dramatic power. She also performed Palmide in II Cro- ciato for Velluti's benefit. At first the cognoscenti were haunted by a fear that Sontag would permit herself to degenerate, like Catalani, into a mere imitator of instrumental performers, and endeavor to astonish instead of pleasing the public by executing such things as Rode's variations. But it was soon observed that, while in- dulging in almost unlimited luxuriance of embellishment in singing Rossini's music, she showed herself a good musician, and never fell into the fault common with florid singers, of in- troducing ornaments at variance with the spirit of the air or 20 306 QUEENS OF SONG. the harmony of the accomplishments. In singing the music of Mozart or Weber, she paid the utmost deference to the text, restraining the exuberance of her fancy, and confining herself within the limits set by the composer. Her success was test- ed by a most substantial proof of her popularity — her benefit produced the enormous sum of £3000. Mdlle. Sontag was engaged by Laurent at the Theatre Ital- ien at a salary of 50,000 francs per annum, and a conge of three months in the year. She reappeared as Desdemona, but the part was not suited to her. She, however, turned her at- tention seriously toward the study of sentiment and passion, and the manner in which she afterward performed the part of Donna Anna in Don Giovanni, of Semiramide, and many oth- er tragic characters, showed that she had to a certain extent inspiration as well as taste and grace. The rivalry between Malibran and Sontag now broke out afresh with redoubled vehemence, and reached such a height that they would not even meet in the same salon; the parti- sans of each, as it always happens, contributed to give to this rivalry an aspect of vindictiveness, and on the stage, when they sang in the same oj^era, their jealousy was scarcely disguised. An Italian gentleman, the firmest item of whose musical creed was that none but Italians could sing, refused to admit that Sontag (whom he had never heard) could by any possibility be equal to the singers of Italy. With great difficulty he was induced to hear her ; when, listening for five minutes, he sud- denly quitted his seat. " Do stay," urged his friend. " You will be convinced presently." " I know it," replied the Italian, " and therefore I go." One evening, at the termination of the opera, the rival sing- ers were called for, and a number of wreaths and bouquets were flung on the stage. One of the coronals fell at the feet of Malibran, who, considering it was meant for her, stooped and picked it up ; when a stern voice from the pit cried out, " Rendez-la : ce n'est pas pour vous !" " I would not deprive Mdlle. Sontag of the coronal," answered Malibran, somewhat scornfully ; " I would sooner bestow one on her." There also commenced between Sontao: and Madame Pisa- roni one of those vindictive contests of which musical history has so many instances, though no two vocalists could possibly be more different in voice and style as well as in person. HENKIETTA SONTAG. 307 Having performed during 1827 almost exclusively in Berlin, Mdlle. Sontag appeared again in Loudon in May, 1828, as An- gelina, in Rossini's Cenerentola. She was charming, as she al- ways was, her execution was brilliant as ever, and she looked unusually lovely iu her splendid costume in the last scene. She also appeared in II JBarhiere, and as Semiramide for Ma- dame Pisaroni's benefit ; hut there was a want of majesty and royal dignity in her deportment as the Assyrian Queen which detracted greatly from her performance. Malibran was performing at the same time on alternate nights, and a reconciliation had taken place between the two rival artistes ; this had been brought about, but not without much trouble, by M. Fetis, who was then in London. His be- nevolent purpose was aided by an unexj^ected circumstance. They had both promised to sing at a concert, to be given at the house of Lord Saltoun, for the benefit of Mr. Ella.* Fetis, who was engaged to accompany the two singers, proposed to them to sing together the duo of Semiramide and Arsace. They agreed, and for the first time their voices were heard in combination ; each strove to surpass the other, and the effect of the fusion of the two voices, so difierent in tone, character, and expression, was so fine, that a complete triumph sealed their reconciliation. In consequence of this, Laporte brought forward operas iu which they could play together. They first appeared in Semiramide, and then in Don Giovanni, when Malibran took the part of Zerlina. Malibran's Zerlina was original and sprightly ; and Sontag, who had already perform- ed the arduous part of Donna Anna in London, executed it in a most brilliant manner, delightful to the ear, if not so satis- factory to the judgment. They also appeared together in the Nozze di Figaro, on the occasion of Malibran's benefit. Mdlle. Sontag, as the Countess, performed with appropriate dignity, and the celebrated letter duet between the Countess and Su- sanna was sung by them in a style which was not to be sur- passed. Sontag also appeared with her rival in the second act of Borneo e Giidietta, but the part of Giulictta was not suited to her. Her sister Nina appeared at Mdlle. Sontag's benefit in the ZauberJ^ote. The sisters bore a strong resemblance, both iu * Now the director of the "Musical Union." 308 QUEENS OF SONG. person and in voice, but as a performer Nina was very inferior to Henrietta. On the 29tli of January, 1829, she made her reappearance at the Theatre Italien as Rosina ; she also performed during the summer in London, with Malibvan. Her most remarkable performance was Carolina in II Matrimonio Segreto^ which she gave with great feeling and occasional comic humor ; she also performed Desdemona several times. She reappeared in Paris, September 16, in /S'e/?^^;"awi^V?(^, Madame Pisaroni being the Arsace ; and in October in Matilda cU Shabra)i. Mdlle. Sontag had now been for more than a year married to the Count Rossi, but the union was preserved a secret for a long time, his family not chosing to recognize a singer, and one who could not boast of descent from nobility. Count Rossi was a native of Corsica, a relative of Bonaparte by the Romalino family, and his sister was married to the Prince de Salm. The secrecy of Henrietta's marriage was unfortunate, and calumny for the first time assailed her, until at last the fact of her marriage transjDired, when she determined to un- dertake an art tour through Europe and then retire. She had been ennobled by the King of Prussia under the title of Mdlle. de Lauenstein. She made her adieux to the Parisian public in January, 1830, and, returning to Berlin, she there closed the first por- tion of her dramatic career. May the 19th, by the performance of the Semiramicle of Rossini. The enthusiasm of the pub- lic was not to be described. From the Prussian caj^ital she went to Russia, singing at St. Petersburg, Moscow, and War- saw with incredible success. On arriving at Hamburg, on her return from Russia, she was received with every mark of distinction by the principal inhabitants of that city, and by the hereditary Prince of Meck- lenburg, who happened to be on a visit there with his prin- cess. She received an invitation from the citizens of Bremen, who ofiered carte blanche as to terms ; but, gratefully declin- ing the ofier, she stated decisively her resolve to retire alto- gether from public life. At a supper given in compliment to her by a distinguished English merchant at Hamburg, she an- nounced herself for the first time as the Countess Rossi. At Hamburg she sang for the last time in public, but only at con- certs, in which she showed that her powers, far from having HENELETTA SONTAG. 309 declined, had gained in compass, in execution, and, above all, in exiDvession. The Countess Rossi lived first at the Hague, then for a short time at Frankfort-on-the-Maine. In 1835 she was at the lat- ter place, where, as a matter of etiquette, she took precedence of all the ladies of the corps diplomatique, her husband beino- minister plenii^otentiary to the Germanic Diet. In 1838 Madame Rossi paid a visit to Berlin, where she had the honor of dining with the royal family, and after the repast she joined in several ducts and concerted pieces with the princes and lirincesses. She devoted herself on her retirement from the stage to the study of composition. At Vienna, and at the houses of Prince Esterhazy and Prince Metternich, in 1841, she executed a can- tr.ta entitled II Naxifragio Fortunato^ for a soprano voice and chorus, of which she wrote a i)ortion during a sojourn in Hun- gary. This work was received with the greatest enthusiasm by a brilliant and numerous company, and Madame Rossi re- ceived from the empress an autograph letter, begging of her to sing her cantata in the concert which her imperial majesty was about to give in her apartments, to which were invited the imperial family and all the court. The political storm which swept over Europe in 1848 re- duced the family of Count Rossi to ruin, and when the revolu- tion broke out at Berlin Madame Rossi's fortune was lost. With a real nobility of soid the countess firmly breasted the storm: she announced her intention of reappearing once more on the stage, and accepted an ofier of £17,000 from Mr. Lum- ley, of Her Majesty's Theatre. On the 7th of July, 1849, she made her appearance in Linda di Chamouni, as "Madame Sontag." Her reception Avas cordial and enthusiastic, and the most eager interest was evinced in this fresh debut. Her voice had suffered little during a repose of seventeen or eight- een years, and still possessed its " exquisite purity and spirit- uelle quality," which rendered it a luxury to hear her. If her lower notes had lost a little of their fuhness and freedom, the upper tones still retained their roundness and beauty, and her execution had lost nothing of that marvelous flexibility which was its characteristic. She still possessed " the finish, the charm, the placid and serene expression" which had former- ly pre-eminently distinguished her; and always a thorough 310 QUEENS OP SONG. aud conscientious artist, she still remained so, althougli she found herself in presence of a new public, who had become ac- customed to a different style of singing. All her former companions had long vanished from the scene. The brilhant Malibran had been dead for thirteen years ; Madame Pisaroni had disappeared for the same length of time; and the " stars" who now shone on the musical world had not appeared when Henrietta Sontag left the stage in 1830. Giulia Grisi, Clara Novello, Pauline Viardot, Fanny Persian!, Jenny Lind, Marietta Alboni, Nantier Didier, Sophie Cruvelli, Catharine Hayes, Louisa Pyne, Duprez, Mario, Ron- coni, Tagliafico, Gardoni — this brilliant galaxy of musical gen- ius had arisen since the day she announced herself as the Countess Rossi ; and Bellini, Donizetti, aud Meyerbeer had written their best operas since that day. Lablache — the good-hearted, kind, joyous, dear old comrade of earlier days — was perhaps the only familiar friend she rec- ognized on returning to Her Majesty's Theatre. Even the King's Theatre had been metamorphosed. Madame Sontag appeared in her favorite character of Rosi- na, with Lablache and Gardoni ; she also performed Amina and Desdemona. Had it not been that the attention of the public was absorbed by "the Swedish Nightingale" and the " glorious Alboni," Madame Sontag would have renewed the triumphs of 1828. The next season she sang again at Her Majesty's as Norina, Elvii'a (I Puritani), Zerlina, and Maria (in La Figl'ia del Regglmento)^ characters which she perform- ed for the first time. The chief novelty was La Tempestdi^ written by Scribe and composed by Halevy expressly for Her Majesty's Theatre, the drama having been translated into Ital- ian from the French original. It Avas got up with extraordi- nary splendor, and had a considerable run. Madame Sontag sang charmingly in the character of Miranda ; but the great- est effect was created by Lablache's magnificent impersona- tion of Caliban : no small share of the success of the piece was due to the famous danseuse Carlotta Grisi, who seemed to take the most appropriate part ever designed for ballerina when she undertook to represent Ariel. With the exception of Carlotta, all have passed away like a dream — Halevy, Scribe, Lablache, Henrietta Sontag. When, at the close of 1850, the Theatre Italien of Paris HENRIETTA SONTAG. 311 opened under the management of Mr. Liimley, Madame Son- tag, as the prima donna, was welcomed with a new ovation. Respect, admiration, and deferential sympathy animated the audience. "Even amid the loud aj^plause with which the crowd greeted her reappearance on the stage," says a French writer, " it was easy to distinguish the respect which was entertained for the virtuous lady, the devoted wife and mother." • In 1851 Madame Sontag was again at Her Majesty's Thea- tre. She was next heard in Vienna and Berlin. In 1852 she accepted an offer to go to America. She appeared at Her Majesty's Theatre for a limited number of nights previous to her departure. On her arrival at New York, September 19, she commenced a series of concerts at the Metropolitan Hall, with Salvi and Signora Blangini. From New York she went to Boston and Philadelphia. Her course was a triumphant one, and she be- came one of the greatest favorites that had ever visited the New World. A portion of the capital realized by her enter- tainments was devoted by her to the purchase of a chateau and domain in Germany. In New Orleans, in 1854, she enter- ed into an engagement with M. Masson, director of the prin- cipal theatre in the city of Mexico, to sing in opera for a fixed period of two months, with the privilege on his part of continuing the arrangement for three months longer, at a sal- ary of $7000. Madame Sontag dispatched her agent, Mr. Ull- man, to Europe, to secure a company, and he had nearly con- cluded his mission, when news arrived from America that she had died in Mexico on the 17th of June, of an attack of cholera. Her funeral took place on the 19th of Juno, in presence of an immense concourse of people, including the corps dijiloma- tique. The funeral service was celebrated with great grand- eur: the instrumental performers included the orchestras of the two Italian theatres ; the nuns of San Francisco sang the canticles ; the German Philharmonic Society intoned a prayer to the Virgin, and sang a chorus of Lindpaintner's "Ne m'ou- bliez pas ;" and M. Pantaleon Tovar declaimed a composition in beautiful Spanish verse to the memory of the departed. It was nine o'clock in the evening before the ceremony was con- cluded. 312 QUEENS OF SONG. The remains of the '"deceased lady were transported to Ger- many, to be buriec^ Her husband had leaving the body rier, with other y ^he Abbey of Marienstern, in Lausitz. T 'exico immediately after her death, 'titions, and the ship Avere sinking — " "Ah!" cried he, without allowing her to finish, "I would leave all to save La Norma P'' Strange to say, the first reception of this opera was by no means brilliant. The audience did not cai'c about the chorus of priests ; Donzelli exerted himself in vain to charm them with his cabaletta : the audience shrugged their shoulders and pronounced it to be " commonplace ;" and even Casta Diva made no impression, though Pasta had never, perhaps, sung 368 QUEENS OF SONG. ^so well. Bellini trembled with anxiety. Then Adalgisa ap- peared, and began " Sgombra e la sacra selva ;" the clear res- onant tones of Giulia Grisi's voice touched the hearts of the listeners, and they began to applaud. Nevertheless, as the curtain fell on the first act, Pasta regarded the piece as a fias- co, and her forebodings were shared by the other performers. The second act went coldly till the duet between Norma and Adalgisa, " Deh ! con te !" which created a furore and was en- cored. Then Pasta turned to Giulia, and exclaimed in a low tone, "Ecco i couscitori!" The success of the opera, Avhich had been despaired of, was now assured, and Norma was per- formed forty times during the Carnival. Encouraged by Pasta, Giulia Grisi declared that she, too, would become a great tragedienne. " How I should love to play Norma !" she exclaimed to Bellini one night behind the scenes. " Wait twenty years and we shall see." " I will play Norma in spite of you, and in less than twenty years," she re- torted. The young man smiled incredulously, and muttered, " A poco ! a poco !" But Grisi kept her word. Her genius was now fully apjDreciated, and she had obtained one of those triumphs which form the basis of a great renown. With astonishing ease she passed from Semiramide to Anna Bolena, then to Desdemona, to Donna Anna, to Elena in the Donna del Lago. In Semiramide she had that lofty and gra- cious manner which is jDeculiar to her. The young artiste had now learned her true value, and was aware of the injury she was sufiering from remaining in the service to which she had foolishly bound herself: she was now twenty-four, and time was passing away. Her father's repeated endeavors to obtain more reasonable terms for his daughter from Lanari proved fruitless. He urged that, his daughter having entered into the contract without his knowl- edge, and while she v/as a minor, it was illegal. " Then, if you knew absolutely nothing of the matter, and it was alto- gether without your cognizance," retorted Lanari, imperturb- ably, " how did it happen that her salary was always paid to you?" Intolerant of injustice, and indignant at the advantage taken of her, Giulietta suddenly broke her engagement. Giuditta and her aunt, Madame Grassini Ragani, were in Paris, and to them she resolved to fly. The Carnival was crowded at Milan, GIULIA GKISI. 369 and the manager had engaged Pasta for twenty extra nights, relying on Grisi as second donna. Having gained her father's consent to her plan, Giulia went to Marliani, a warm and de- voted friend, and begged his assistance. He promised to see her across the frontier, and to provide for her a quick transit through Switzerland to France. The fugitives started late on a Friday, the Opera being closed on that night, and arrived safely at Bellinzona, when they suddenly discovered, to their horror, that they had for- gotten their passports. It was decided that Giulia should make use of her maid's passport to cross the frontier, as she and the girl bore some resemblance in point of height, age, and complexion. Marliani had no resource but to return for the papers ; and the fair cantatrice, once in safety, was to await him and the femme-de-chambre on the other side the frontier. But, urged by fear, she resumed her flight, and for eleven days and nights pursued her solitary journey, through bad roads and over mountain passes covered with snow. It was not un- til she threw herself into her aunt's arms, half dead with fatigue and terror, that she remembered, too late, her promise to wait for her dear old teacher. Giuditta and Madame Grassini welcomed her with joy, and it only remained to obtain an engagement. Rossini, Robert, and Severini formed the triumvirate who governed the Opera. Rossini remembered that he had predicted a glowing future for Giulia Grisi some four years previously, and an arrange- ment was made without any difliculty for her to appear at the Favart, not as a debutante, but with a definite engagement to replace Madame Malibran. She appeared for the first time before a Parisian audience on the 13th of October, 1832, in Semiramide. She at once became a favorite, and durinir the season of six months she increased in power and rose higher in the opinion of the public. In November, 1832, Giuditta Grisi (who had appeared in London during the summer at the King's Theatre) made her debut in Bellini's La Stj'cmiera. Her sonorous, vibrating voice, so full of charm and beauty, the mingled grace and en- ergy of her singing and acting, her beautiful face, grave and expressive, her gestures replete with truth and originality, her large and noble manner of phrasing the music, obtained for her a triumph. The sisters also sang together in Bellini's / 24 Q2 370 QUEEXS OF SONG. Montecchi ed i Ccqyiiletti^ and Giuditta looked a gallant young cavalier. Then followed Don Giovan7ii, in which Giulia, as Zerlina, was graceful and charming ; but her figure was too command- ing, her voice too regal for the village coquette. Rubini was Don Ottavio ; Tamburini, Don Giovanni. Tamburini was a singer of great brilliancy and power ; his voice was a fine baritone, well defined, round, rich, clear, and of wonderful flex- ibility. He was an accomjjlished actor, full of spirit and gay- ety ; he was handsome, his figure was manly, and his air noble and prepossessing. Immediately after Do7i Giovanoii, Giulia Grisi appeared as Anna Bolena, with Madame Tadolini, Santini, and Rubini; when, despite the unavoidable comparison with Pasta, she won an ovation. Giuditta retired at the end of the season, having amassed a competent fortune, and, marrying an Italian gentleman, retired to Italy. She died May 1, 1840, at her country seat at Cre- mona. Giulia also retired ; but she reappeared on the 1st of Octo- ber, 1833, as Anna Bolena, with Tamburini and two new can- didates for public favor, Mdlle. Schutz and the young Russian tenor Ivanofl'. It was remarked that Mdlle. Grisi had improved singularly. She had passed the six months of leisure in the study of her art, and the result was that the once trembling debutante had become a Queen of Song. Her name was now mentioned in the same breath with that of Catalani, Pasta, Malibran. She was no longer Jane Seymour or Adalgisa, but Anna Bolena — Norma ! As a singer she was to be placed apart from all contempo- rary artistes. Her gifts, like her beauty, were rare and ex- ceptional. She united the nobleness, the tragic inspiration of Pasta with the fire and energy of Malibran. Her voice, a pure soprano of the very finest quality, extended over two oc- taves, and she could sing without an eflfort to C in alt. Her low notes were occasionally weak, but the middle ones were full, mellow, and deliciously sweet. Her intonation was ex- quisitely just, and her execution neat and finished. Not a note escaped her that was not irreproachable. As an actress, she had all the qualities which go to make a great tragedian. She seldom represented the same situation twice in the same man- GIULIA GRISI. 3 "71 ner, yet she was always lofty aucl noble — a magnificent woman, a superb tragedian, an exquisite singer. In October, 1833, she appeared as Kosina in Tl Barbiere di Seviglia, Tamburini performing Figaro, and Rubini Almaviva. She sang the variations of Rode, in the lesson scene, in a man- ner which produced an electric eflect. This opera was fol- lowed hy La Gazza Ladm, in which the young prima donna obtained a triumph as Ninetta. Tamburini performed the part of her father, and Ivanoff took for the first time the role of Gianetto, the betrothed of Ninetta. After this, Bellini's I Montecchi ed i Capxdetti was performed ; Caroline Unglier, who made her debut that season, supporting the character of Romeo. Madame TJngher was decidedly clever, but her ap- pearance was wofully against her, being that of " an under- sized, colorless woman," with a plain countenance expressive of nothing in particular. In December Don Giovanni was produced. Giulia Grisi this time took the more appropriate part of Donna Anna. Madame Ungher was Zerlina ; Madame Schutz, Elvira ; Tamburini performed Don Giovanni ; Santini, Leporello. Bellini's last opera, i" P?«7'to?ii, was composed by him at Paris in 1834, and performed for the first time on January 24th, 1835, with Grisi, Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache — an unrivaled quartette — in the principal characters. Its production created the utmost enthusiasm, and the duet, " Suona la tromba," especially, was echoed by thunders of ap- plause. Rossini, writing of this morceau to a friend at Milan, said, " I need not describe the duo for the two basses. You must have heard it where you are:" a remark very just, but more sarcastic than complimentary. Bellini was made a mem- ber of the Legion of Honor, and received the most flattering marks of distinction from government. He arranged with the Academic to write a French opera, and was already medita- ting a new work for the San Carlo ; but the perseverance with which he pursued his labors was the fiital cause of his death. Eight months after the production oi I Puritani he expired, fancying in his last moments of delirium that he was present at a representation of this opera at the Salle Favart. In 1834 Mdlle. Grisi came to London, and made her debut at Her Majesty's Theatre, April 8, in La Gazza Ladra. Tu- multuous applause greeted this bright musical star. Her 372 QUEENS OF SONG. charming person, beautiful countenance, fascinating manner, and delightful voice, made her a favorite at once. On April 22 she ajDpeared as Desdemona in Otello. Rubini was the Moor : his Otello was, with the exception of Garcia's, the best ever seen on the stage. Tamburini was lago ; Ivanoff, Rodri- go. Mdlle. Grisi also proved herself a worthy successor of Pasta in Aoina Bolena. " Though, naturally enough, in some respects inexperienced on her first appearance in England," observes Mr. Chorley, " Giulia Grisi was not incomplete. And what a soprano voice was hers ! rich, sweet ; equal throughout its compass of two octaves (from C to C) without a break, or a note which had to be managed. The voice subdued the audience on her first appearance, ere Di placer was done." Mdlle. Grisi was an indefatigable concert-singer, and on one occasion she sang at five different concerts, gratuitously, on the same morning. At a grand festival at York she sang four- teen pieces, of which four had Latin words and four English. Malibran having received forty guineas each evening at this festival the year before, Mdlle. Grisi refused to accept a lesser sum, and she obtained it ; but, to show that it was merely a point of principle, she sent to the poor each day the forty guineas which she received. She was made an honorary gov- ernor of Westminster Hospital in acknowledgment of the serv- ices which her talents and charity had rendered to that insti- tution. In December Mdlle. Grisi ajopeared as Norma, and thence- forth Norma was her greatest character. " In this character, Grisi," observes a writer in the Musical World, "is not to be approached, for all those attributes which have given her her best distinction are displayed therein in their fullest splendor. Her singing may be rivaled, but hard- ly her embodiment of ungovernable and vindictive emotion. There are certainly parts in the lyric drama of Italy this fine artiste has made her own: this is one of the most striking, and we have a faith in its unreachable superiority — in its complete- ness as a whole — that is not to be disturbed. Her delivery of ' Casta Diva' is a transcendent efibrt of vocalization. In the scene where she discovers the treachery of Pollio, and dis- charges upon his guilty head a torrent of withering and indig- nant reproof, she exhibits a power, bordering on the sublime, GIULIA GEISI. 373 which belongs exclusively to her, giving to the character of the insulted priestess a dramatic importance which would be remarkable even if entirely separated from the vocal pre-emi- nence with which it is allied. But in all its aspects the per- formance is as near perfection as rare and exalted genius can make it, and the singing of the actress and the acting of the singer are alike conspicuous for excellence and power. Wheth- er in depicting the quiet repose of love, the agony of abused confidence, the infuriate resentment of jealousy, or the influ- ence of feminine piety, there is always the best reason for ad- miration, accompanied in the more tragic moments with that sentiment of awe which greatness of conception and vigor of execution could alone suggest." From 1834: Mdlle. Grisi continued to sing alternately in Par- is and in Loudon, "In 1834," to again quote Mr. Chorley, " she commanded an exactness of execution not always kept up by her during the after years of her reign. Her shake was clear and rapid; her^cales were certain j every interval was taken without hesitation Tylie'r. Nor has any woman ever m^ffFThoroughly cotmnimSe'd" every gradation of force than she — in those early days especially ; not using the contrast of loud and soft too violently, but capable of any required vio- lence, of any advisable delicacy. In the singing of certain slow movements pianissimo, such as the girl's prayer on the road to execution in La Gazza, or as the cantabile in the last scene oi Amia Bolena (which we know as 'Home, sweet Home'), the clear, penetrating beauty of her reduced tones (different in quality from the whispering semi-vcutriloquism which M-as one of Mademoiselle Lind's most favorite effects) was so unique as to reconcile the ear to a certain shallowness of expression in her rendering of the words and the situation. "At that time the beauty of sound was more remarkable (in ^ such passages as I have just spoken of) than the depth of feel- ing. When the passion of the actress was roused — as in La Gazza^ during the scene with her deserter father — with the villainous magistrate, or in the prison with her lover, or on her trial before sentence was passed — her glorious notes, produced without difficulty or stint, rang through the house like a clari- on, and were truer in their vehemence to the emotion of the scene than were those wonderfully subdued sounds, in the pen- etrating tenuity of which there might be more or less artifice. 374 QUEENS OF SONG. / From the first, the vigor ahvays went more closely home to the heart than the tenderness in her singing ; and her acting and her vocal delivery — though the beauty of face and voice, the mouth that never distorted itself, the soimds that never wavered, might well mislead the generality of her auditors- were to be resisted by none." In February, 1836, during the performance of Donizetti's Marino Faliero^ at the moment when Giulia Grisi was enter- ing her box in the course of the third act, she perceived near the door, as if in ambuscade, an individual whose declarations of love had already annoyed her for some months. She utter- ed an exclamation, and M. Robert, who accompanied her, re- quested the intruder to retire. He bowed, murmuring some unintelligible excuses, when Colonel Ragani, Grisi's uncle, join- ed the party, and attempted to remonstrate on his unbecoming conduct. The intruder drew a sword from the cane which he carried, and menaced all who surrounded him ; a scuffle en- sued, and the melee was ended by the arrival of the commis- sary of police. The brawlei-, whose name was Dupuzet, was condemned to one mouth's imprisonment and a fine of sixteen francs. M. Dupuzet, who was some thirty-five years of age, was knoAvn as the author of the Legende ofJehanne la Lucelle and the Demon de Socrate. ■ On Sunday, April 24, 1836, Giulia Grisi was married to M. Auguste Gerard de Melcy, a French gentleman of independ- ent fortune. On her marriage she went with her husband to reside at the fine chateau de Vaucresson, which she had pur- chased some time previously. The admired prima donna did not leave the stage, but continued to perform during the sum- mer in London, and during the winter at Paris. In 1837 she appeared in London in Semiramide, v^iih. Ru- bini and Tamburiui. The most remarkable performance of the season, however, was Don Giovanni. The excitement to hear her as Donna Anna was intense. Long ere the doors were opened both entrances of the theatre were surrounded by crowds ; and, owing to one of the doors not being proper- ly opened, several persons were slightly hurt. Many ladies turned back frightened ; some, bolder, reached the pit, or the entrance to the pit, with no greater misfortune than a very considerable derangement of theia* dress. After some laugh- ing aiid some disputing, as many as possible of the unfortu- ■I GIULIA GRISI. 375 nates who could not penetrate farther than the lobbies were accomiuodated on the stage : there were more than a hundred persons at the wings ; and it was supposed that the audience altogether consisted of more than four thousand people. Madame Grisi realized the highest expectations of the crowded assembly. Madame Albertazzi Avas the Zerlina ; Tamburini, Don Giovanni ; Lablache, Leporello ; and Rubini, Ottavio. At the last representation of Otello this season, Madame Pasta, who was then in England, proved the sincerity of her friendship, for she many times applauded her young rival, who, after the opera, went to the box of the Queen of Lyric Tragedy to thank her for such homage. Don Giovanni was performed at the Theatre Italien, Janu- ary 14, 1838, with the strong cast of Mesdames Grisi, Persi- ani, and Albertazzi; with Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache. About an hour after the doors were closed, the Opera House was discovered to be on fire, and was very shortly reduced to a heap of ruins — an accident supposed to have arisen from some of the fireworks used in the infernal gulf into which the commandant hurls the profligate. Severini leaped from a window near the top of the building, and was instantly killed. Robert only saved himself by means of a ladder-rope ; and Rossini, who had an apartment in the theatre, escaped by sim- ply being absent ; but the whole of his musical libi-ary, said to be valued at upward of 200,000 francs, was destroyed, with many rare manuscripts. ♦ Li 1838, M. Duponchel, the director of the Opera, was look- ing for another tenor to replace Duprez, as he had replaced Adolphe Nourrit by that admirable singer, and at last his ea- ger eyes lighted upon a handsome young refugee ofticer of two-and-twenty, named Candia. M. Candia, avIio was the son of a Piedmontese general, and had been, besides, an oflicer in the Piedmontese guard, had for some time been the cynosure of attention in certain Parisian circles. As he moved in aris- tocratic society, his expenses Avere necessarily heavy, and he dared not ask his father for pecuniary assistance, the old gen- tleman being a severe disciplinarian, and very angry with his son. M. Candia had been often told that he had a hundred thou- sand francs of income in his throat, and Duponchel volunteered 376 QUEENS OF SONG. to give him fifteen hundred francs a month to begin with, if he would appear at the Opera. He hesitated, on account of his aristocratic birth aud his patrician father, and could not make up his mind to sign the name of Candia to a theatrical contract ; but dining one day at the house of the Countess de MerHn with the Prince Belgioso, M. Dui3onchel, and many oth- ers, M. Candia was induced to accept the proposal of M, Du- ponchel, aud he compromised with his family pride by signing his Christian name only — that of Mario. On the 2d of December, 1838, after a severe course of study under the direction of Michelet, Ponchard, and Bordogni, Sig- nor Mario appeared in the part of Robert le Diable. In spite of his agitation, he was triumphantly successful. " What a delicious voice !" was the cry. " Why, he will replace Ru- bini !" Higher praise could not have been bestowed. The season of 1839 in London was chiefly remarkable for the production of Lucrezia JBorgia, in which Madame Grisi presented a splendid contrast to her equally truthful concep- tions of such parts as Elvira and Norma : it served also to in- troduce to the English public Signer Mario, who appeared as Gennaro. Such characters as Lucrezia Borgia seemed created for Grisi. The more elevated the character, the more suited to her. The most fleeting touches, the most massive shadows, were boldly portrayed with a powerful yet light hand. Love in all its phases she delineated as no other artiste had the skUl to do. Dramatic, impassioned as Desdemona, she pictured love iu all its ardor, its unsullied purity, its despair ; as Anna Bolena, she softly shadowed forth " love in its melancholy and its regrets ;" and as Norma, she painted love in tints of fire : love in its jealousy, its guilt, its scathing fury ; as Lucrezia, she displayed love in all its maternal intensity, its vengeful cruelty. In 1840 Madame Grisi won fresh laurels from her English admirers in lioherto Devereicx^ and also in II Barhiere di Se- viglia, with Mario. "The Five" — Mesdames Grisi and Persi- ani, Signori liubini, Tamburini, and Lablache — came to En- gland as usual in 1841 ; but in 1842 Madame Grisi did not ap- pear at her Majesty's Theatre. In January, 1843, Doti Pasquale, one of the sprightliest and pleasantest operas ever written, was placed in rehearsal by Donizetti at the Theatre Italien. Its reception at rehearsal GIULIA GEISI. 377 was ominous : despite the beauty of the music, which was in his happiest vein, the orchestra kept a dead silence. Not a sound of satisfaction, not a token of approbation, was aftbrded by the musical jury. The two directors stood by trembling for its success ; but Donizetti listened and shrugged his shoul- ders, and taking the arm of his friend M. Dormoy, the publish- er, quietly left the theatre. " Let them alone," he coolly said; " they know nothing about it. I know what Bon Pasquale wants. Come with me." On reaching home, Donizetti hur- ried up stairs to his bedroom, and in a drawer beneath an old battered piano-forte he pulled out from amid a quantity of mu- sic what appeared to be a song. "Take this," said he to M. Dormoy; "this is what Don Pasquale requires. Carry it at once to Mario, that he may learn it without delay, and tell him that he must rehearse it this evening." This song was " Com' e gentil." The serenade was sung with the accompaniment of a tambourine, the accom- panyist being Lablache himself, who was concealed from the eyes of the audience. It is needless to say that Don Pasquale was a success. The same year it was produced in London. This season also Ma- dame Grisi appeared as Ninetta before the audience of her Majesty's Theatre. In 1847 the memorable operatic schism took place, which led to the formation of " the Royal Italian Opera" at Covent Garden Theatre. The principal members of the company of Her Majesty's Theatre who seceded from that house and join- ed the new establishment were Madame Grisi, Madame Pcrsi- ani, Signer Mario, and Signer Tamburiui ; and the company was strengthened by the addition of several eminent perform- ers previously unknown to England, of whom Mdlle. Alboni was the chief. The lessee of her ^Majesty's Theatre endeav- ored to make head against this defection by engaging the serv- ices of Jenny Liud, who became the great support of the old house, as Grisi was of the new. The Royal Italian Opera opened, in the beginning of the season of 1847, with Semira- mide, Grisi appearing as the Assyrian Queen, and Alboni as Arsace. The vast theatre was crowded to the doors ; the representation -Rias splendid, and the excitement of the public was extreme. In all the subsequent vicissitudes of the Royal Italian Opera, Grisi steadily adhered to it, and it was on its boards that she took her final leave of the English public. (.. 378 QUEENS OF SONG. Madame Grisi, probably alarmed by the Revolution of Feb- ruary, abandoned the Opera of Paris in 1848. During the sea- son of that year in London she added the part of Leonora in La Favorita to her repertoire. In 1851 Madame Grisi repaired to St. Petersburg with Sig- ner Mario. Her benefit, in February, 1852, was a perfect ova- tion : the opera was Lucrezia Borgia^ during which she was recalled twenty times ; and after the performance the Czar pre- sented her with a Cashmere shawl worth 4000 rubles (about £800), a tiara of pearls and diamonds, and a ring of great value. "~ In 1854, after more than twenty years of uninterrupted tri- umph, Madame Grisi, with Signor Mario, gave what were an- nounced as "farewell performances." The operas in which she appeared included Norvna^ Lucrezia Borgia^ Don Pasquale, Gli JJgonotti^ La Favorita. The first, given June 1, was N'or- ma, Madame Grisi performing Norma ; Mdlle. Maria, Adalgi- sa; Tamberlik, Pollio; and Lablache, Oroveso; the last per- formance, given August 7, consisted of the first act of Norma, and the three first acts of GU Ugonotti, in which Mario sus- tained the principal tenor part. " Rarely, in her best days," said one critic, " had Grisi been heard with greater efiect, and never were her talents as an actress more conspicuously displayed." At the conclusion of the performance the departing singer received an ovation. Bouquets were flung in profusion, vociferous applause rang through the theatre, and when she reappeared the whole house rose : the emotion which was evinced by her admirers was ev- idently shared by herself. Madaiiie Grisi then left Liverpool with Signor Mario for New York. The terms of the engagement were £17,000 for six months. The two artistes made their debut at Castle Gar- den, August 18, in Liicrezia Borgia. Their arrival created the greatest excitement ; nothing else was talked of for the moment. They performed seventy times altogether in Amer- ica. The manager, Mr, Hackett, declared at a farewell dinner given to the two celebrated singers, that he had gained nearly £12,000 by their engagement. On returning from New York, Madame Grisi was prevailed on to postpone her resolve of retiring, and to reappear in Lon- don, May, 1855, as Leonora in La Favorita. Bon Pasquale i GIULIA GRISI. 379 was giveu in June, having the attraction of being performed by the four singers for whom it was originally written. Grisi next appeared at the Theatre Italien in 1856 and 1857. She was coldly received by the Parisians in Semiramide and Z/u- crezia Borgia^ but conquered the sympathies of the public in Norma^ in which she supplied by dramatic energy the obvious [failure of her voice. During 1856 she was singing at Drury Lane Theatre with Madame Gassier, Madame Itudersdorff, and Herr Formes ; hi I&5T she was performing with a fine company in Dublin ; in March, 1858, she was again in Paris, having been engaged by Calzado, director of the Theatre Italien ; from Paris she re- turned to London. Madame Grisi performed at Madrid in 1859. The Theatre Royal opened Thursday, October 6, with great eclat, under the direction of Signor Mario. The house was crowded, and among the audience Avere many of the most distinguished per- sons of the court of S2)ain. Grisi appeared as Norma, and Mario as Pollio. During the first act, some of the audience, influenced by an unaccountable impulscjlnsulted Madame Gri- si in a most disgraceful manner. She was obliged to make a written appeal to the Spanish public, which had the eflcct of propitiating the audience on her second apjiearance ; but on this occasion Mario was ill, and the performance came to an abrupt termination. The season of 1861 witnessed the final retirement of the great prima donna, who gave some farewell performances at the Royal Italian Opera in Norma and some other favorite operas. "A quarter of a century," says Mr. Chorley, "is a fair length of reign for any queen — a brilliant one for an Opera queen of these modern times, when ' wear and tear' are so infinitely greater than they used to be. The supremacy of Madame Grisi has been prolonged by a combination of qualities rare at any period. In our day there has been no woman so beauti- ful, so liberally endowed Avith voice and with dramatic impulse as herself, Catalani excepted. In many respects Madame Grisi has been more satisfactory than her gorgeous predecessor — more valuable to her public, because less exacting As an artiste, calculated to engage and retain the average public without trick or affectation, and to satisfy, by her balance of / 380 QUEENS OF SONG. charming attributes — by the assurance, moreover, that she was giving the best she knew how to give — she satisfied even those who had received much greater j)leasure, and had been impressed with much deeper emotion in the performances of others. I have never tired of Madame Grisi during five-and- twenty years ; but I have never been, in her case, under one of those spells of intense enjoyment and sensation which make an epoch in life, and which leave a print on memory never to be canceled by any later attraction — never to be forgotten so long as life and power to receive shall endure." I MADAME OLAKA NOTELLO. CLAEA ANASTASIA NOVELLO. 383 CHAPTER XXIX. CLAEA ANASTASIA NOVELLO. With the name of Novello there are many art-associations. Vincent Novello was a distinguished composer of vocal music, chiefly for the service of the Papal Church. He was even more eminent as an editor, his arrangement of the masses of Haydn and Mozart being in use in every Roman Catholic chap- el throughout the kingdom, while his name is distinguished by his noble edition of the sacred works of Purcell. He was one of' the original members of the Philharmonic Societv, and in the old days, before the " conductor" of musical performances became a sepai-ate branch of the profession, Vincent Novello used, alternately with his brother members, to preside at the piano-forte at the society's concerts : he subsequently became the responsible director. All his family have shown themselves to pos?!ess talent and energy, and some have become distinguished for their abilities. His son Alfred, himself a musician, has earned the gratitude of the lovers of music by the publication of classical music ar- ranged by his father in a cheap form ; another son, Edward, who died young, evinced no ordinary talent as an artist, in which pursuit Miss Emma Novello also made some proficien- cy. Miss Sabilla Novello made a favorable impression as a vocalist, resigning the arduous career to devote herself to the production of theoretical works on the art. Mrs. Cowden Clarke, devoted to literature, is a writer of tales and essays, and has gained world-wide celebrity as the compiler of a Con- cordance to Shakspeare; and another sister, who was a singer at the English Opera House when it was under the direction of Mr. Arnold, retired from the stage on her marriage with Mr. Serle, a dramatic author and actor, and a political writer. The brightest star in the cluster is Clara Novello, born June 10, 1818, in Oxford Street, London. Her gifts, which were developed early, came to her by inheritance. When almost an infant she commenced her preparatory studies under the care 384 QUEENS OF SONG. of Miss Hill, of York, and then under the direction of Mr. John Robinson, also of that city. In 1824 she returned to London. Her " clear childish treble" was admired by all her friends ; she could sing, among other difficult songs, "The Soldier tired," that trying air in the Beggar's Opera^ " Cease your funning," and many pieces of a similar kind requiring brilliant execution. " Her father's house," says one of her biographers, " was a gathering-place of many of the mo§t eminent literary men of that notable period. Leigh Hunt, Hazlitt, Keats, Shelley, were more or less frequent guests of her paternal home, and others, not less renowned for wit and wisdom, were members of the brilliant circle ; Charles Lamb, for one, as unmusical as he was humorous, enjoyed the meetings, though he had no sense for the occasional music, which was the chief attraction ; and in his wonderful Chapter on Ears he describes these very re- unions." The year of her return home the little Clara went with her parents to France. There was a vacancy for a candidate in the Conservatoire de Musa Sacra, at Paris, and Fetis, who was charmed with the little English warbler, advised her father to apply. The instruction being gratuitous, there was, of course, great competition ; Mr. Novello, however, went to M. Choron, who was at the head of the establishment, and laid before him the claims of his daughter Clara. It was necessary that the youthful candidate should undergo a trial and examination previoiisly to admission, and the child, young as she was — only six years — sang courageously before M. Choron. The worthy musician was not a man to frighten any body, it is true : he was a little round jDcrsonage, with fine delicate fea- tures, an animated, benevolent physiognomy, and a man of in- finite wit and of varied acquirements. M. Choron did not un- derstand or appreciate "The Soldier tired," and he required another specimen of her ability in a style with which he was more familiar. The child, nothing daunted, sang the " Agnus Dei" from Mozart's Mass in F, in the execution of which she displayed such genuine musical feeling, and so much j^romise, that she was unhesitatingly preferred over nineteen compet- itors. The little girl's studies in the seminary were principally di- rected to sacred music, in which she made such rapid prog- ress that she was soon capable of sustaining a part in the per- CLARA AN ASTASIA NOVELLO. 385 formances of the jsupils. At one of the public exhibitions, Clara had the honor of singing before the king, Charles X., and tlie royal family. Prince Poliguac, who was present, paid her some kind and encouraging compliments. She was so young at the time that she had to be jDlaced on a stool that she might be seen by the audience. It was in this academy that Clara acquired her solid and firm sostcnuto, from singing, with- out instrumental accompaniment, the choral pieces of Palestri- na, Leo, Handel, and other composers. For six years she continued the course of instruction afford- ed by the Conservatoire. In the Revolution of July, howev- er, the institution, being dependent on the government, was broken up, and Clara was of course immediately removed. As she was hurried through the turbulent streets, "meeting in her progress the wounded and dying, the horrors of the scene pro- duced so strong an effect upon her nervous system, that upon her arrival at her friend's house she sank into a sleeping stu- por, in which she remained thirty-six hours, and thus, in aU probability, was saved from an attack of brain fever." In 1833, when she was only fourteen years old, an age when most singers arc only commencing their studies, Clara Novello made her debut before an English audience at a benefit con- cert given by Mrs. Sewell, at Windsor, when she took part in the duet "Forsake me not," from Spohr's Last Judgment, and sang a little ballad, " Chagrin d' Amour." She sang at the Ancient Concerts, and at the Philharmonic Concerts, being the youngest vocalist that ever appeared at the performances of this society ; also at many provincial musical festivals. And at the great musical festival held at Westminster Abbey in 1834 — from which may be dated the progress, if not the ori- gin, of the Sacred Harmonic Society — Clara Novello was one of the principal singers. In August, 1836, Mr. John Barnett's opera, the Mountain Sylph, being revived at the English Opera House, Clara No- vello appeared as Jessie, Miss Shirreff taking the part of the Sylph. Clara acquitted herself extremely well, especially in the concerted music. At the great musical festival in Man- chester in the next month, to which a melancholy interest is attached in consequence of the death of Madame Malibran, Clara Novello was one of the vocalists. She was even then thought highly of, though singing by the side of that gifted 25 11 386 QUEENS OF SONG. performer. Her lovely voice, her refinement of style, were be- ginning to make a profound impression. The other singers were Madame Caradori Allan, Mrs, Shaw, Mrs. Bishop, Signori IvanofF and Lablache, Braham, Phillips, etc, " Tuesday evening preceding the Festival," says Mrs. No- vello, " Malibrau not only gave Clara Novello some excellent advice upon her appearance in public (doubly valuable from her acknowledged superior style of effective costume, both on the stage and in private), but actually took down and redressed my daughter's hair, and, with her accustomed freedom from en- vy, kept admiring the long silky tresses as they passed through her fingers, finishing the friendly operation by inserting a double-headed silver pin in the plait, of which she begged her acceptance, kindly adding, ' You will not like it the less be- cause I have worn it in Amina,' The delight experienced by the young aspirant may be imagined, who doted upon her as a woman and an artist, ' It is a talisman,' she exclaimed, 'and I shall sing better from this night.' " Clara had many pieces to sing, all of which she executed ad- mirably, both airs and concerted music. In the beautiful duet by Marcello, " Qual anelante" (on Wednesday morning), she sang with the dying Malibran. The unrivaled prima donna "had set her mind upon its producing a great effect," says Mrs. Novello, " and when she arranged with Clara the cadence they were to introduce, she refused to write it down, saying in her kind tone of encouragement, 'You will follow me; I am quite sure of you, and of its being encored,' The eflect was, indeed, as if both singers had been inspired. When requested to re- peat it, Malibran exclaimed, ' I will sing it fifty times ; and as to Clara, she is a good-natured little thing, and will do any thing you require of her,' Just before they began it a second time, her eye caught mine, and she whispered, ' Clara, how pleased mamma looks !' " Malibrau was inspired by a strong afiection for her young friend. Mrs, Novello nursed her in her dying moments, and in the course of many confidences, poor Maria spoke of her husband, De Beriot, and of her old comrade, Lablache, with the warmest admiration and affection ; and of Clara in the same manner. "I love very few persons," she energetically exclaimed ; "but those I do love, I ^oye," and her eyes beamed with intense devotion and fervency. " You need not be anx- CLAEA ANASTASIA NOVELLO. 387 ious for your daughter. She is in the right way. She can not fail of obtaining the highest rank in the profession, with her voice and the education she has received." Clara was strenuously advised by Malibran, it is said, to go at once to Italy and study for the stage. Certain existing en- gagements, at the Worcester Festival and elsewhere, however, detained her at home for some months. Her style was already formed to a great extent, and she wisely refrained from forcing her voice. As a favorite with the public her position was es- tablished, and for it she was indebted to nothing but her own merit. ISTever did vocalist owe less to favoritism or personal efforts to win applause. " Her style is purely correct and rational," says a critic of the period. " She takes no unwarrantable liberty with her au- thor, and what graces she introduces are never redundant or at variance with the character of her music. Her sostenuto is remarkable for firmness, equality, and steadiness. This valua- ble qualification in her singing is attributable to her early prac- tice of the long suspensions that constantly occur in the choral music of Palestrina, and which formed part of her almost daily lessons while in Paris. The chief characteristic of her singing is sweetness and equability, without eflbrt ; indeed, whether executing a Tyrolean ballad, or that exceedingly arduous scene, Tu ni' abbandoni of Spohr, her manner is equally composed." Her voice was a high soprano, two octaves in compass, from D to D, pure, open, brilliant, clear, and liquid as a well-tuned silver bell, and extremely sympathetic, combining the fullness and richness of the contralto with the compass of the mezzo- soprano. In the upper register some of the tones were won- derfully touching. Not a trace of affectation or display was ever perceptible in her singing. About this time the rising young vocalist received a press- ing request from Mendelssohn to sing at Leipzig. The maes- tro, in his first visits to England, had constantly joined the social gatherings at the house of Mr. Vincent Novello, and had then learned to appreciate the young Clara. " It is said that in summer weather, parties were frequently formed, of which he was one and Malibran another, for excursions in the fields round London. On these occasions, as on all others, music was essential to the day's enjoyment ; accordingly, the master- pieces of the great Italian and English composers would form 388 QUEENS OF SONG. the necessary baggage of the caravan of pleasure ; and with these sj^read out before them, seated on the grass beneath the shade of the hedgerows, and beyond the chance of interrup- tion, the cheerful group would sing the madrigals or the mo- tets, the part songs or anthems, which delighted their forefa- thers." Mendelssohn, having thus had every opportunity of discovering the rich musical gifts of Miss Novello, and fully es- timating them, now invited her to sing at the famous Gewand- haus Concerts, which were under his direction. In October, 1837, Clara Novello left London for Rotterdam on her way to Leipzig, accompanied by her father, mother, and sister, and made her first appearance at the Leipzig Concerts on the 2d of November. Her reception was most flattering. Her beautiful voice, good style, pure intonation, perfect ex- pression, and admirable aplomb, especially at the termination of the phrases, won instant applause for her. The German critics were in ecstasies. Clara Xovello's efibrts at these con- certs were pronounced by Mendelssohn to be a real service to the lovers of music, and the maestro described her in a letter to Mr. Alfred Novello, her brother, as a confirmed favorite of the Leipzig public. Replying to a request of our Philharmon- ic directors that he would recommend them some singer for their series of concerts, Mendelssohn wrote, " The greatest singers in Germany are Miss Clara Novello and Mrs. Alfred Shaw." The benefit concert of the young English artiste in February, 1838, was one of the most successful ever known in Leipzig. From Leipzig Clara went to Berlin, when the Philharmonic Society of that city elected her an honorary member. From Berlin she proceeded with her family to Italy ; but again her intention of preparing for the stage was diverted, she having so many engagements to sing at the various musical festivals then being celebrated in Milan in honor of the Emjoeror of Austria's coronation as King of Lombardy. The spring of 1838 was spent by Miss Novello in Vienna; and a series of engagements in the principal cities of Germany occupied her time and attention during the season of 1838-39, She was at Berlin in January, 1839, and the King of Prussia, Frederick, was so delighted with her rendering of " I know that my Re- deemer liveth," that he took a paternal interest in her, and wrote an autograph letter to his sister, the Empress of Russia, CLARA ANASTASIA NOVELLO. 389 for the young vocalist, who was going to St. Petersburg. In- deed, she was the enfante cherie of the Berlinese. In no place is music more warmly ajopreciated, or its expo- nents more liberally rewarded, than in Kussia, as Miss Clara Novello could have attested. After remaining a short time there she returned to Berlin, giving her first concert in the hall of the King's Theatre. Every place was taken, and the applause was loud and vehement. Her pure style and beauti- ful intonation were deservedly admired throughout the Conti- nent. She also appeared at the Dusseldorf Festival with Mdlle. von Fassmann, who was a celebrity in Germany, and whose voice — at least when she had one, some years before 1839 — had been a powerful soprano, "the natural toughness of which," says Mr. Chorley, "had never been wrought out of it by practice. In all passages of the least volubility she was totally inaudible, or so languidly heavy as to destroy every idea of tone." From 1839 no obstacles opposed the projected dramatic studies of Clara Xovello ; and remembering the kindness of Rossini when they had met on the occasion of the Coronation fetes at Milan, she ^letermined to visit him at Bologna with her father and brother. The great master, charmed with her talent, and enraptured with her voice, gave her friendly coim- sels. His advice was that she should relinquish public life for a year, and study for the stage, frequent the theatre regularly, and give her undivided attention to operatic music. She ac- cordingly went to Milan, where she became the pupil of Mich- eroux, the master of the greatest Italian theatrical singers of the day, and under his direction she studied diligently for a whole year. Having accepted an engagement to perform at several thea- tres in Italy for three years, Miss Novello made her debut in opera at Padua, July C, 1841, choosing the ambitious part of Semiramide for her first essay. She was then oue-and-twenty. Her success was complete ; and as she increased in experience, she attained more command of the special requirements of the stage, and gained every day greater success. She subsequent- ly appeared at Rome, Fermo, Milan, and other places, where her performances Avere a succession of triumphs. The critics were at a loss for language wherein to express their admira- tion and delight : the rich Italian tongue was ransacked by 390 QUEENS OF SONG. poets, even, for epithets to embody theii* ideas of the exquisite talent of the fair Inglesina. From November, 1841, to the fol- lowing March, Clara Novello was singing at Bologna, under the immediate auspices of Rossini. The Bolognese were en- chanted with " la bella Inglese." In the summer Clara Novello was singing at Modena. At her departure on the 28th of July, after a triumphant season, the crowd surrounded her carnage, and accompanied her home Avith shouts and choruses, filling the coach with bouquets and wreaths of the choicest flowers. She then returned to Bolog- na for the autumn. Her next engagement was at Rome. In Italy all theatrical engagements are effected by means of correspondents — agents who devote their talents to negotia- ting arrangements between managers and the comi:)osers and singers, and it was through one of these agents that Miss No- vello entered into an eno-as-ement for the Carnival season of 1842 at Rome. But when she prepared to start for the impe- I'ial city, she found, to her surprise, that she was eagerly and confidently exj)ected by the director of the theatre of Genoa. This was an unexpected and awkward dilemma ; each impre- sario demanded the fulfillment of the agreement, and it was impossible to comply with the requisitions of both. It so happened that when Miss Novello made the unpleasant discovery of her awkward situation, she was singing at Fermo, which is within the Papal territory, and consequently under the jurisdiction of the Roman authorities. "She could not quit the place without a passport," says one of her biogra- phers, " which document the manager of the Opera House at Rome had the power to prevent her obtaining. He thus held the lady in such firm possession as would effectually bind her from appearing at the other theatre, though it did not com- pel her to sing at his own. The Minister of Police at Fermo, Count GigliiTcci, communicated to the lady the restraint im- posed upon her by the Roman manager, whereof he, the count, was the unhappy instrument; adding also that he was imder the sad necessity of placing the lady under arrest till she should have made arrangements satisfactory to the impresario, whose interest he i^rotected." Being quite unwilling to become a he- roine at such a price. Miss Novello wrote to the Earl of Aber- deen, then Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Avho promptly inform- ed the Roman government that " such proceedings could not CLARA ANASTASIA NOVELLO. 391 be sanctioned toward a British subject." The matter was then settled by arbitration. The Carnival season of 1842 \^'as to extend over twelve weeks, and for six weeks the songstress was to perform at Rome, while for the other moiety of the time she was to be at the service of the impresario at Genoa. The courtly Count Gigliucci, in making a captive of the charming English vocalist, found himself bound in fetters stronger than ever were forged by the hand of man, and from which he had no wish to be free ; in short, he refused to let the lady depart until she had blushingly confessed that he was not disagreeable to her. It was eventually arranged that when her professional engagements had been fulfilled, she should be- come the Countess Gigliucci. Miss Novello was almost worshiped as a tenth IMuse at Rome ; the theatre was crowded whenever she appeared, and on the 19th of Januai-y, 1843, when she took her benefit, she received an ovation such as had not been equaled for years. A shower of verses and bouquets, waving of handkerchiefs, and a storm of applause, greeted her appearance as Norma ; and when she sang "Casta Diva" the furore was at its height: bouquets and coronals (the camellias of which latter alone, it was confidently asserted, were estimated at 100 scudi — twen- ty-five guineas English !) were flung at her feet, and the au- dience recalled her twenty-nine times ! At the conclusion of Norma, she went into a box to hear Moriani in an act of Lu- cia. The audience, catching sight of her, rose, and, regardless of Moriani, sprang upon the benches and applauded for nearly ten minutes. Wlien she stei)pcd into her carriage, she found herself surrounded by the elite of Rome, bearing upward of a hundred wax torches, while all the way home flowers were showered upon her, and vivas rent the air. Arrived at home, her house was beset with carriages, from Avhich ladies of the first rank and quality Avaved their handkerchiefs, while the military band i)layed her most po]nilar airs, and the shouts continued of " Viva la Novello, evviva !" The hall and stair- cases Avere filled with her admirers, who, as she ascended, kept up exclamations of " Come back to us, Novello ; don't forget the Romans !" etc., etc. By degrees the streets were cleared, but a serenade came to disturb the slumbers earned by fa- tigue. The Philharmonic Society of Rome voted her a free diploma, constituting the talented English prima donna an honorarv member. 392 QUEENS OF SONG. Her reception at Genoa offered a painful contrast to this triumph, for when she appeared in I Puritanic with Ivanoff, she was violently hissed. At the first indication of disappro- bation Miss Novello quitted the stage, and it was only by the most earnest entreaties that she could be persuaded to return. She reappeared before her old admirers, pale as a statue, and absolutely speechless from emotion ; but her appearance and manner soon reduced the audience to silence, and she had an opportunity of explaining to the dissatisfied audience the cause of the failure of her powers. "Signori," she said, calmly, "to make me sing at present is an outrage ! The Genoese re- ceived me with so much kindness last year that I exhausted my strength in my journey to be with them at the earliest mo- ment. It would be an insult to them, for whom I feel so much gratitude, were I to continue to sing any longer. I have done all I could to content them." Miss Novello appeared in Feb- ruary in a new opera, written expressly for her, on the story of Virginius. She arrived in London in March, 1843. Mr. Macready, the eminent tragedian, had undertaken the management of Drury Lane Theatre, with the view of raising the English drama from the depressed state into which it had fallen ; and a part of his plan was to bring forward first-class musical pieces, to be performed by English artistes. His op- eratic comjjany consisted of Miss Clara Novello ; Mrs. Alfred Shaw, one of the most popular of English soprani; Mrs. Serle, Mr, Henry Phillips, Mr. Allen, etc. The choice of the opera which was to oj^en the camjjaign Avas rather unfortunate. Pacini's Sappho^ a "grand," weak, pretty, somewhat insipid work, was selected, this being the first time of its production in this country. To Miss Novello was assigned the jDassionate character of Sappho, Mrs. Alfred Sliaw appeared as Climene, and Mrs. Serle as Dirce ; Messrs. Phillips, Allen, Stretton, and Reeves, took the parts of Alcander, Phaon, Lysimachus, and Hippias. The public evinced a great desire to hear their fa- vorite on her return from Italy, and to ascertain how far she had improved ; consequently, the theatre was crowded on the 1st of April. The opera was elegantly mounted ; the opening scene, in particular, the entrance of the stadium at Olympia in Elis, where the Olympic games are being celebrated, and Sappho wins the lyric crown, was beautiful and classic. Clara Novello's acting Avas energetic, though by some thought to CLARA ANASTASIA NOVELLO, 393 be wanting in delicate light and shade ; but the impassioned character of the Greek songstress needed chiefly vehement feeling. Her voice, it was noticed, had wonderfully improved, and in that large and bold style of ornament which was the fashion of the newest Italian school, she was an adept. The duet between Sappho and Climene was admirably sung. Mrs. A. Shaw was a charming singer, and remarkable for distinct- ness and expression, ^iappho was only successful on account of its pretty melodies and the graceful performance of Clara Novello and Mrs. Shaw. It was followed by Handel's Aeis and Galatea^ the produc- tion of which forms an epoch in modern theatrical annals. The scenery of Stanfield, and the instrumentation of Mr. T. Cooke, assisted in creating a splendid eSect. The character of Gala- tea was, of course, undertaken by Miss Novello, and Mr. Allen was the Acis, a part which had been rendered popular by Miss P. Horton. The character of Polyphemus was sustained by Ilerr Stau- digl, the celebrated baritone, who, by the force of his genius, made a magnificent impersonation of a most arduous part. His representation of the gigantic monster was only too kind- ly; he sang so genially, so heartily, that the idea of his "hid- eous love" was lost : he was no longer the brutal ogre, but a lai'ge-hearted, ill-fated lover, who had the misfortune to be hor- ribly ugly ; at the same time, he enlisted the sympathies of the audience, and humanized the repulsive aspect and ferocious character. Staudigl was a noble-minded and kind-hearted man, as well as a great artiste. Young Emery this season applied to him to know his terms for singing at his benefit. " You are the son of a great actor," replied the German basso, almost reproachfully ; " my terms are nothing : you may an- nounce me to sing, or act, or whatever you please. I shall feel it a duty as well as a pleasure to appear." Clara Novello sang the lovely melodies of Handel infinitely better than the graceful inanities of Pacini. Her clear pure tones were heard in this serenata to the utmost advantasre, es- pecially in the last air. tiapplio was performed again, Stau- digl replacing Henry Phillips as Alcander, the High-Priest ; a most distasteful character, to which Avas attached the weakest music in the opera. Staudigl " electrified" the audience, and gave his part character and color, delivering the words clearly R 2 394 QUEENS OF SONG. and distinctly, without any defect of foreign utterance ; but no genius could infuse life and vigor into sucb insipid music. The season terminated somewhat abruptly, Mr. Macready's ef- forts to redeem the drama having met with unbounded ap- plause, but no more solid proofs of the public approval. Miss Novello sang at the leading provincial musical meet- ings, gathering fresh laurels at every step. At the Birming- ham musical festival, where she sang with Miss Rainforth, Mrs. Knyvett, Mrs. Alfred Shaw, Henry Phillips, Fornasari, and Signor Mario, she was greatly admired. When she appeared in N'orma, her acting and singing created a multitude of con- flicting opinions. Having completed her engagements, Clara Novello was married on October 22, 1843, to the Count Gigliucci, and, with- out any formal leave-taking, quitted public life. Immediately after the ceremony the happy couple left London, going first to Paris, then to Naples. Madame Clara Novello was the fourth English vocalist who gained a title and marriage in modern days, the others being Miss Stephens (Countess of Es- sex), Miss Foote (Countess of Harrington), and Miss Bolton (Lady Thurlow). To this list must now be added the name of Victoire Balfe (Lady Crampton). The political hurricane which swept over Europe in 1848 destroyed the fortunes of many a noble house ; and the Countess Gigliucci, like her sis- ter artiste, the amiable Countess Rossi, was rudely aroused from her tranquillity by the storm, and like her, too, again en- tered into the art-arena to retrieve her husband's losses. In 1850 Madame Novello reappeared in the musical world as unostentatiously as she had left it. She presented herself first at Rome ; in December she appeared at Lisbon, Avhere she obtained a triumph in Beatrice di Tenda. She appeared at our musical festivals in 1852, and thenceforth, in England, she restricted herself to singing at concerts and festivals. She is, therefore, best known here as the interpreter of the works of the great masters of sacred song. Her voice had gained in power, brilliancy, and refinement during her retirement, and her style was noble, and, above all, thoroughly English. While capable, as she had from girlhood proved herself, of singing the masterpieces of foreign music, she sang British ballads as no one else could sing them ; she could render the grand ora- torio music of Handel, Haydn, and Mozart, and with equal * CLAEA ANASTASIA NOVELLO. 395 beauty sing the simple strains of "John Anderson" and "Auld Robin Gray." But the beauty and purity of her voice, the exquisite delicacy of her style, and the refinement of her man- ner, were eminently adapted to sacred music, and the exalta- tion of her feeling was most apparent in devotional music. Her voice, " so available, it would seem for all puii^oses, so capable, so beautiful, and so telling, is toned down and sober- ed," says an able writer, " to a religious feeling that lends it its peculiar characteristic, and makes it almost sombre in ex- IH'ession and coloring. From this peculiarity, this sombreness of tone, Madame Novello derives her sj^ecial power in sacred music. Of the demonstrative quality, so indispensable to the dramatic singer, she exhibits but little, and is seldom outwai'd- ly energetic or forcible. Intensity without display, and ear- nestness arising from a manner full of repose and always ab- sorbed, constitute the specialties which distinguish Madame Novello from all other singers of sacred music. So rapt, in- deed, is she at most times in her performance, that, even when singing, could our ears deceive us so, she might stand as an exemplification of Wordsworth's Nun, ' breathless with adora- tion.' Whether this be pure instinct or the most consummate art, we can not say. In either case the result is the same, and the wonderful influence of the vocalist is made manifest." At a concert given by Signer Puzzi at Drury Lane Theatre, July 5, 1853, Madame Novello appeared in I Puritanic with Signori Gardoni, Marchesi, and Burdini, creating a deep sensa- tion by the " fervor of her acting and the excellence of her singing." This was her last dramatic display in England. Madame Novello concluded an engagement for three years with La Scala, Milan, and commenced January, 1854, with Ver- di's Migoletto. As Gilda, the favorite character of Madame Bosio, our charming English vocalist created a furore, and throughout she sustained her reputation in Italy as a dramatic singer. The Carnival of that year opened somewhat inauspi- ciously, and she had some difficulties to contend with ; a new opera by Puzzi, II Convito di JBaldassare, disappointed the Milanese, who expected something unusually excellent from the composer; it was produced with great splendor, but the singers vainly exerted themselves to bear up against the tame, hastily- written score. Apart from her beautiful voice, Madame Novello was inval- 396 QUEENS OF SONG. liable in an operatic company, from her steady and correct in- tonation, and thorough musical knowledge. Miss Sabilla No- vello, in her work on The Voice and Vocal Art, mentions a most interesting example of her sister's unfailing surety of in- tonation. At the rehearsal of a new opera at La Scala, Ma- dame Novello, in the finale, consisting of a double quartette I and chorus, performed without orchestral accompaniments, \ kept the pitch, notwithstanding the chorus sank and dragged i the other solo voices down with them. The first violin, fan- 1 eying the prima donna might be getting sharj), sounded her note on his instrument, and found her perfectly in tune, al- though the chorus and other solo voices had sunk half a note ! After repeated rehearsals, this finale had to be changed into a quintette, from the impossibility of keeping the chorus up to the pitch. At the Norwich festival in 1854, Madame Novello sang with Madame Bosio, Lablache, Gardoni, and Mr. Sims Reeves. For four days' performances she received three hundred guineas. The following year, her admirers at Birmingham were greatly disappointed and angered by the non-appearance of their favor- ite. The committee objected to her demand of three hundred guineas, and offered only the terms she had received in her girlish days, which they must have known she would not ac- cept. This was the only occasion on which any of the festivals suffered from her absence. But it was in June, 1859, that Madame Novello achieved her grandest triumph, on the occasion of the Handel Festival at the Crystal Palace, where she sang with Miss Dolby, Ma- dame Sherrington, Mr. Sims Reeves, Mr. Weiss, and Signer Belletti, and an accompanying host of nearly three thousand vocal and instrumental performers, in the presence of twenty- seven thousand auditors. The clear, jDure tones of her voice, full, rich, brilliant, and perfectly distinct, jDenetrated to every corner of the enormous structure — a place any thing but fa- vorable to the transmission of sound. That magnificent dis- play of beautiful and impressive singing is indelibly stamped on the memory of all who heard it. Unlike her great predecessor, Mara, Madame Novello re- solved to withdraw from the arena of public life in the fullness of her powers. Never had she gained such triumphs as in the CLAEA ANASTASIA NOVELLO. 397 year which she fixed for her final retirement, for time had add- ed to the purity, delicacy, and refinement of her style. The Queen of English Soprani took her leave at the Crystal Palace in the 3fessiah; but she also gave, November 24, 1860, a farewell concert at St. James's Hall. Her farewell, it was justly remarked, was in admirable harmony with her pure and spotless career. " It was a raanilestation of pure, unadultera- ted art from beginning to end," observed a leading musical journal ; " and at the termination of the concert the vast as- sembly dispersed with the most intimate conviction that music had lost one of its most gifted and justly distinguished repre- sentatives" — one who for ten years, with Mr. Sims Reeves, had maintained the English school at a lofty standard of excel- lence. Madame Novello's voice, though she was evidently suffering from indisposition, was as clear, bright, penetrating, flexible, and vigorous, as unerringly modulated as ever. It was only just that Clara Novello's adieu should be sung to Mendelssohn's music, therefore she selected that master's un- finished Loreley as the principal feature of the concert; the sec- ond part of the programme consisting of Benedict's Undine^ in which the departing prima donna Avas assisted by Miss Palmer, Mr. Wilbye Cooper, and Mr. Weiss. Her final dis- play was a solo verse of "God save the Queen," that piece in which she had so often electrified thousands at the Crystal Palace. The Countess Gigliucci is now residing in Italy with her familv. 398 QUEENS OF SONG. CHAPTER XXX. PAULINE VIAEDOT GARCIA. Pauline, the second daughter of the famous singer and mu- sician Garcia, was born in Paris on the 18th of July, 1821. Her elder sister, Maria, then thirteen, was painfully studying under the direction of her father, standing pale and timid be- hind his chair, and learning the way to sing steadily while the tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her brother, Manuel, then a lad, was also studying, to assist his father as a teacher. On the 29th of August the child was presented for baptism in the parish church of St. Roch, having for sponsors the celebra- ted Ferdiuando Paer and the Princess Pauline Prascovie of Ga- litzin (Countess of Schonvalsh), and was named Michelle Fer- dinande Pauline. At the age of three Pauline left Paris with her family, her father being engaged at the Opera House in London, and Maria having been pronounced by him a finished singer, fully qualified to take an engagement. The next year, Gai'cia being struck with the happy notion of establishing an Opera in America, the whole family started for New York. The company had been performing for some time, when Garcia lost his prima donna, Mai-ia, who unfortunately accept- ed the hand of M. Malibran. When the crash came which made Maria worse than widowed, Garcia abruptly quitted New York, going with his wife and youngest child to Mexico, where he commenced a series of operatic performances. Lit- tle Pauline here received some lessons on the piano-forte from Marcos Vega, organist of the Cathedral. She was singularly clever, and at the age of six could speak with equal facility four languages — French, Spanish, Italian, and English. To these she subsequently added German, in Avhich she became a proficient ; and she learned, before she was eight-and-twenty, to read Latin and Greek. Her lessons were suddenly inter- rupted, however. Civil war broke out in Mexico immediately after the declaration of independence, and the scenes of con- flict were dreadful to witness. Garcia, fearing that he should MADASJK VIAKDOT GAECIA. PAULIXE VIAKDOT GAECIA. 401 lose all his earnings, resolved to return to Europe. Maria was in New York, and Manuel had left the preceding year (1826) to visit France. Turning his money into ingots of gold and silver, Garcia started at once. The little party, perfectly aware of the dangers of the way, were traveling rapidly on their road over the mountains lead- ing from Mexico to Vera Cruz, when a band of brigands Avay- laid and robbed them.. There was some diy humor about these wretches, for, though they stripped the famous tenor, intending to leave him bound, with a guard to prevent *liis raising an alarm, on discovering that he was a singer, they were determined to have some fun. Untying him, they rough- ly placed him, naked as he was, on a rock, and ordered him to sing for their amusement. Manuel Garcia was not exactly the kind of man to submit quietly to this treatment, even at the muzzle of a gun, and he refused to obey their command. They persisted, and began to threaten ; so, thinking that perhaps they might be as good (or as bad) as their word, Garcia com- menced ; but fatigue and agitation combined to choke his voice, and he sang so vilely that his strange audience hissed violently. Astounded and enraged at such an indignity — an outrage to which he had never before been subjected — the great tenor raised his head with a haughty gesture, and, gath- ering strength and courage, burst into one of his, most magnifi- cent flights of song. "This so charmed his hearers that they drowned his voice with cries of ' bravo !' and a loud slapping of their hands, took him down from his elevation, restored to him his clothes and a portion of his money, and gave him an escort to the coast." By this catastrophe, which Pauline, child as she was, never for- got, her father lost upward of 000,000 francs (about £21,000), the product of his labors and travels. He managed, howev- er, to embark safely, and found consolation for his disaster in teaching Pauline during the long and dreary voyage. It was on their passage that he gave her her first vocal instruc- tions, composing little pieces expressly for her, with words from all languages. "We have seen these curious polyglot vocabularies," says a writer in the Musical World., " Avhich must have been of excellent effect in training the infant ear and voice in the art of part singing, and furnishing it with a diver- sity of idiom." Her father was very fond of this mild darling, 26 402 QUEENS OF SONG. whom be preferred to the brilliant, willful Maria. " Pauline," he would say, "can be guided by a thread of silk; Maria needs a hand of iron." At seven Pauline could play the j^iano-forte sufficiently well to accompany her father's pupils, and Garcia, seeing the taste she evinced for this instrument, confided her to the excellent master Meysenberg, under whose care she made rapid prog- ress. Conscious herself of a decided talent for the piano-forte, she devoted three years to finger exercise alone. She was then placed under the direction of the eminent Franz Liszt, one of whose most distinguished pupils she became. It was probably under the care of this master that she gained that accuracy and brilliancy of musical conception which afterward shone forth in her admirable vocal performances. Liszt, with whom she executed the most difficult and complicated works of Bach, wished very much that she should, like himself, aim at celebrity as a pianist. Her health, however, was not equal to the fatigue caused by so sedentary a study, and she could give only so much attention as would enable her to accompa- ny herself; but she was so far finished that when she was four- teen or fifteen she was able to perform at the concerts of her sister Maria. Garcia thought her voice and talents far train- scended those of Maria, and when a buzz of ecstatic admira- tion about the voice of Madame Malibran met his ear, he would rejoin, "There is a younger sister who is a greater gen- ius than she." Pauline lost her father when she was only eleven, and short- ly after the death of her husband Madame Garcia visited Paris. The good lady took up her residence with Adolphe Nourrit, one of Manuel's most eminent pupils; and Nourrit, a man of kind disposition, took the keenest interest in the young Pau- line. He strove to cheer and advise the widow of his old master, and, with mistaken zeal, Avas very anxious to persuade Rossini to become the teacher of Pauline. The maestro con- sented, and Nourrit brought the news to Madame Garcia with a face beaming with delight. What was his amazement when she quietly declined the offer. He could hardly believe that she was in earnest to reject such a teacher as the master-spirit of the age ! and he was still more astounded when she added that her son Manuel should be Pauline's instructor, and that, should her son not be able to come from Italy for the purpose. PAULINE VIAKDOT GAECIA. 403 she would take Pauliue in hand herself. Nourrit was not aware of the vast difterence between the systems pursued by Rossini and the Garcias. Professional ensfaaiements detained Manuel in Italy ; so, confident in her own resources, and that soundness of principle on which the school of Garcia was found- ed, the widowed lady applied herself to her labor of love. It may be said, however, that in reality Pauline educated herself; certainly she gained nothing from her sister Maria, for the wandering life of the latter gave few opportunities for them to meet; and as her mother removed to Brussels, Pau- line, even when her brother came to Paris, was unable to profit by his instructions. What she acquired was the result of her own spontaneous studies, guided by the taste and judicious counsels of her mother. Pauline was eager, quick, enthusiastic, and, above all, industrious. She had a fixed point to aim at, and now commenced her studies with earnestness. Previously she had learned in a desultory manner, though her intelligence enabled her to appreciate fine music ; and she was so smitten with the beautiful melodies of Schubert, that she copied them all with her own hand. " A remarkable instance," says some one, " of solitary and spontaneous enthusiasm." She entered upon a course of laborious vocal training ; and having exhaust- ed the solfeggi which her father had Avritten for her sister Maria, the happy idea crossed her mind that she might com- pose some for herself. She was thus obliged to bring into actual exercise the principles of harmony and counterpoint which she had learned from Reicha. She also acquired other accomplishments besides music. Without any master, she learned, like her sister, to draw and to paint in water-colors ; she sketched portraits, caricatures, and costumes. Living in retirement at Brussels, entirely devoted to her studies, and assisted by the advice of her mother, Pauline rapidly neared the goal which she Avas determined to reach. She was just sixteen when, flushed with conscious genius, she exclaimed, " Ed io anch^ son cantatrice." Her voice, originally somewhat harsh and unmanageable, had been tutored into perfect pliancy and beauty. Like the organ of her sister in quality, it combined the two registers of soprano and contralto, from low F to C above the lines ; but the upper part was formed chiefly by art. Like that exquisite voice, too, it had the soul-stirring tone, the sympathetic and 404 QUEEKS OF SONG. « touching character which penetrates to the heart. It was pure and mellow, though not of the most powerful order. Her sing- ing was expressive, "descriptive, thrilling, full, equal and just, brilliant and vibrating, especially in the medium and in the lower chords. Capable of every style of art, it was adapted to all the feelings of nature, but particularly to outbursts of grief, joy, or despair. "The dramatic coloring which her voice im- parts to the slightest shades of feeling and passion is a real phenomenon of vocalization which can not be analyzed," says Escudier. "No singer we ever heard, with the excei^tion of Malibran," says another critic, " could produce the same effect by means of a few simple notes. It is neither by the peculiar power, the peculiar depth, nor the pccviliar sweetness of these tones that the sensation is created, but by something inde- scribable in the quality which moves you to tears in the very hearings." Her first public appeai'ance was worthy the future of Pauline Garcia. It was at Brussels, on the 15th of December, 1837, that she sang at a concert for the benefit of the poor ; and on this occasion De Beriot made his first ai:)pearance after the death of his wife. The king and queen, the Prince de Ligne, the corps diplomatique, and many persons of celebrity, were present. This concert opened nobly the career of the young artiste. The Philharmonic Society caused two medals to be struck for De Beriot and Mdlle. Garcia, the mould of which was immediately broken. After some other performances equally brilliant, Pauline quitted Belgium for Germany, with her mother and De Beriot. Her name, her talent, gained for the young debutante a warm welcome every where. The Queen of Prussia sent her a splendid suite of emeralds. At Frankfort she sang a duo with Mdlle. Sontag, who was on the eve of departing for St. Peters- burg. Probably Henrietta recalled the days of her glorious rivalry with the dead sister of Pauline, when they had walked on flowers to receive the ovations offered by Pai'is and London. In the summer of 1838 Pauline and her mother left Germany, and after a short stay in Brussels finally arrived in Pai'is. The 15th of December, the anniversary of the Brussels con- cert, Pauline appeared in public with De Beriot at the Theatre de la Renaissance, and a crowded audience greeted her with loud applause. She sang an air by Costa, difiicult both from •PAULINE VIAEDOT GAECIA. 405 its compass and from the recollection evoked of her sister ; an air by De Beriot, and the " Cadence du Diable," imitated from "Tartini's Dream," which she accompanied on the piano with infinite grace and skill. Her second appearance was at a con- cert given by " La France Musicale," in the saloon of M. Herz, when she w'as supported by Rubini, Lablache, and Ivanoff. Her admirable performance on this occasion confirmed her rising fame, by revealing the precision, firmness, boldness, and brilliancy of her style. England, however, was the country selected by Pauline Gar- cia for her theatrical debut. She was eighteen years of age when, on Thursday, May 9, 1839, she made her first appear- ance at Her Majesty's Theatre, in the same opera in which her sister Maria had made her debut before an English audience — Otello. Undismayed by traditionary impressions, by the rec- o^- lections of Malibran, of Pasta, and of Sontag, Pauline gave to the part a new reading. The public were intensely anxious to hear this gifted sister of their lost favorite, and listened eagerly to any account of her genius. At the rehearsal, her voice, style, execution, expression, manner — in short, every thing but external appearance — bore so strong a resemblance to Maria, that the performers were afiected, and tears were seen to steal down the cheeks of the most veteran artiste. Nothing, save a little more physical power, was needed to complete the singular likeness. Every one noticed the singular resemblance existing be- tween her voice and that of her sister Maria. One day a young lady was taking a lesson from Lablache, who lodged in the same house with Mdlle. Garcia. The great basso was explain- ing to her the manner in which Malibran gave the air from Norma,) which she was about to try ; Avhen, at the moment the pupil seated herself at the piano, a voice Avas heard in the adjoining room singing this cavatina : it was Mdllc. Pau- line; but the young girl, struck with superstitious terror, im- agined that a phantom had come to give her a lesson, and she fainted. In person there was but a slight resemblance between the sisters. Pauline's figure was tall and elegant, occasionally com- manding, her physiognomy noble, expressive, and full of char- acter ; but her features were far from being handsome, the out- lino of her face being somewhat harsh and irregular ; her fore- 406 QUEENS OP SONG. * head was broad and intellectual ; her hair was of a rich black, her complexion pale, contrasting charmingly with large black eyes, ardent, and full of fire. Her walk was gi-ave and digni- fied, and her carriage majestic and easy. " She looked older than her years," Mr. Chorley says (in his Meminiscences) ; ^'her frame (then a mere reed) quivered this way and that; her character dress seemed to puzzle her, and the motion of her hands as much. Her voice was hardly settled, even within its after-conditions; and yet — paradoxical as it may seem — she was at ease on the stage, because she had brought thither in- stinct for acting, experience of music, knowledge how to sing, and consummate intelligence. There could be no doubt with any one who saw Desdemona on that night that another great career was begun." Her singing created a marked sensation. The high and low notes seemed to be produced without eifort, yet were suffi- ciently powerful to fill the house with a flood of clear, sweet, rich melody. Her powers were, however, still immature; though her acting, like her singing, was full of promise, and her conception surprising. " By the firmness of her step and the general confidence of her deportment," observes a contem- porary critic, " we were at first induced to believe that she was not nervous ; but the improvement of every succeeding song, and the warmth with which she gave the latter part of the opera, convinced us that her powers must have been con- fined by something like apprehension." Rubini was the Otel- lo; Tamburini, lago ; and Lablache, Elmiro. June 15, Mdlle. Garcia apj^eared in La Cenerentola with the same great sing- ers. As Angelina she was even more admired than as Desde- njona. Her pure taste, her unexaggerated triith, her perfect facility of execution combined to render her performance near- ly faultless, desi^ite her youth and inexperience of the stage. "She has," says one writer, "more feeling than Madame Cinti Damoreau in the part in which the greater portion of Europe has assigned to her the pre-eminence, and execution, even now, in very nearly equal perfection." Every note was clear and distinct as a clarionet, and she was rewarded by " thunders of applause." M. Viardot, an eminent literary man, was then director of the Italian Opera of Paris, and being in London, he ofiered Mdlle. Garcia the position of prima donna for the approaching PAULIXE VIAEDOT GAECIA. 407 season. She had ah-eady received similar oifers from the thea- tre, but, young and inexperienced, she shrank from undertak- ing a responsibility -which she felt was too much for a girl of eighteen ; she, however, consented to appear for a few nights. Great was the impatience of the Parisian public to hear the young cantatrice in opera, and every box was taken at the ItaUens for the performances. Her debut took place on the 8th of October, and was long remembered as the brightest tri- umph on the French lyric stage, since Malibran made her de- but. She appeared as Desdemona, with Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache, and realized the most sanguine expectations. The audience were struck with the wonderful extent of her voice, her admirable musical knowledge, and the perfect cor- rectness of her costume. The only drawbacks were her youth and inexperience ; but the critics assured her, almost apoleget- ically, that this slight disadvantage would disappear but too soon. Her second character was Angelina, in La Cenerentola; her third part was Rosiua, in II Barhiere. An accidental fail- ure of memory, although disguised by brilliant improvisations, was injurious to the effect of the first representation of II Bar- hiere. Rosina, notwithstanding her dazzling vocalization, per- haps even owing to it, in'oved not the Rosina that the audience had anticipated. She achieved a triumph, but it was rather a tribute to her great musical skill, which enabled her to conceal beneath the splendor of extempore melody the failure of her memory. On her second appearance she made a glorious atone- ment, and the part of Rosina has ever been played and sung by her with an exquisite perfection. For her benefit slie ap- peared, with Madame Persiani, Rubini, and Tamburini, in Tancredi; and for the benefit of Fanny Elssler, February, 1840, she performed in the last act of Otello, with Duprez. Mdlle. Garcia and M. Viardot were married April 18, 1840, when they left for Italy ; M. Viardot resigning his post at the Opera, being charged with an important mission by the Min- ister of the Interior relative to the fine arts. The following year Madame Viardot reappeared in England. Her Majesty's Theatre opened jMarch IG, with GU Oraxi eel i Curiazi. Ma- dame Viardot performed Orazia, and confirmed the favorable impression she had made the preceding season. In several parts of the opera her singing and acting were superb, and many concurred in awarding the crown of Pasta and Malibran 408 QUEENS OF SONG. to tlie young vocalist. Mario was the Orazio, and a Miss Ali- cia Nunu made her debut as Curiazio. i The health of Madame Viardot was not strong, and her physical energies were quite unequal to the strain upon her ardent nature ; she was, therefore, obliged to decline the offers both of the London and Paris managers, preferring to travel and visit Spain, the native land of her mother. In June, 1841, she was singing at Madrid, and on her second appearance, as Desdemona, the audience so eagerly testified their ecstasy that the amiable songstress, flattered probably by such unrestrained expressions of delight, voluntarily sang the rondo finale from La Cenerentola. Si)ell-boimd, the audience found it impossi- ble to tear themselves away, and called the charming song- stress again and again to receive their repeated applause. The curtain fell and the baud disappeared, but the crowd would not go ; so, at a sign from Madame Viardot, the piano-forte was wheeled on the stage, when she sang with electrical effect a French romance and two Spanish airs, accompanying her- self. When she was at length permitted to leave the theatre, a crowd of amateurs attended her carriage to the gates of her hotel, amid a hurricane of vivas. On her way to Paris through Grenada, at the close of her tour, Madame Viardot performed twice in II Barhiere in a style of artistic perfection, both mu- sical and dramatic, quite unprecedented in that part of the world. She also performed Norma twice, a character in which she was fully equal to her sister. In October, 1842, Madame Viardot made her reappearance at the Theatre Italien as Arsace, with Madame Grisi and Tamburini. Pauline Viardot, Giulia Grisi, and Fanny Persiani formed a trio of singers such as had not often been heard at the same theatre, each possessing voice and talent of the high- est order, yet perfectly distinct. In 1843 Madame Viardot published five songs and romances in an album, entitled X' Oi- seau cV Or. She declined the offers made from London that year, and at the close of the Paris season, about Easter, went to Vienna, where her powers were highly appreciated. In Au- gust she was at Berlin, and Meyerbeer, who was then writing his ProphUe^ arranged a concert in order that the king might have an opportunity of hearing her. Madame Viardot had a brilliant success in Berlin, and aroused quite an Italian furore amonsc the staid citizens. In 1844 she was singing at Vienna PAULINE TIAEDOT GAHCIA. 409 with Ronconi, and she fonuecl one of the crowd of distin- guished visitors who attended the Beethoven fete at Bonn in 1845. After singing at Paris with Mesdames Grisi and Persiani, the next engagement of Madame Viardot was at Berhn, where she sang at the end of 1846 and the beginning of 1847. In March she took the Berlin critics by storm in a German ver- sion of La Jaive. She was called before the curtain at the termination of every act, and at midnight the members of the orchestra executed a serenade under her windows; indeed, the enthusiasm with which she was greeted jDroved that the man- tle of her illustrious sister had fallen on her. She showed herself, also, to be as amiable as she was gifted. One evening she had been announced as Alice in Robert le Di- able; when, unfortunately, Mdlle. Tuezck, the Isabella of the evening, was taken ill. The manager was in despair : there was no singer to substitute for her, and the opera must be set aside. The part of Alice taxed the powers of the most vigor- ous singer; but Madame Viardot smilingly declared that, rath- er than disappoint the audience, she would play both charac- ters ! And she actually ^lid so, changing her costume with every change of scene, and representing in one opera the two opposite roles of the princess and the peasant ! The enthusi- asm of the audience was such that she Avas vociferously called for at the end of every act, and when the curtain dropped, the house rose en masse, and greeted her with a storm of applause. From Berlin she went to Dresden, where Robert Schumann heard her as Rosina, and pronounced Rosina to be " her finest role." AVhen Mdlle, Lind quitted the German Opera at Ber- lin, Madame Viardot took her place, and created an unparal- leled enthusiasm in Hamburg, Dresden, Frankfort, Leipzig, etc. Her repertoire then consisted of Desdemona, Cenerentola, Ro- sina, Camilla (in GU Orazi), Arsace, Norma, Xinctta, Amina, Romeo, Lucia, Maria di Rolian, Leonora (in Za JTavorita), Zerlina, and Donna Anna, the Iphigenia of Gltick and the Ra- chel of Ilalevy, the Alice and Valentine of Meyerbeer. As Alice, Madame Viardot completely identified herself with the creation of the poet; and in the character of Valen- tine she was irreproachable. This part was for her what Me- dea was to Pasta, Fidelio to Malibran, or Norma to Giulia Grisi. In the severe and classic school of sinsjincc Madame S 410 QUEENS OF SONG. Viardot has no superior, perhaiDS no equal ; and in the music of Gliick, of Handel, of Beethoven, she shone pre-eminently. " The florid graces and embellishments of the modern Italian school," says one writer, " though mastered by her with ease, do not appear consonant to her genius. So great an artiste must necessarily be a perfect mistress of all styles of singing, but her intellect evidently inclines her to the severer and loft- ier school." In 1848 Madame Viardot was engaged at our Royal ItaUan Opera by Mr. Delafield. By that time the great genius of Madame Viardot had matured, and a volume might be filled with the criticisms written on her voice, her acting, her orig- inal conception. Even those judges ordinarily most stern seem- ed to have scarcely any thing but praise to offer to Madame Viardot. She was admitted to be, as one able critic acknowl- edges, " a woman of genius peculiar, inasmuch as it is univer- sal." Never was prima donna more fortunate in satisfying even the most exacting. The announcement of her first appearance (May 9) "created an immense sensation in all musical circles." She had to con- tend against a combination of the most unfortunate circum- stances that ever surrounded any singer. The house was crowded by those anxious to witness her appearance as Ami- na, the Dowager Countess of Essex, Madame Grisi and Mdlle. Alboni being among the most eager expectants. Despite her nervousness — " her trembling was aj^parent to all parts of the house," as one journal recorded — her success was undoubted from the commencement of the Opera. " She proved herself equal to Malibran," says a writer in the 3Iusical Worlds speak- ing of this performance; "there was the same passionate fer- vor, the same absorbing depth of feeling ; we heard the same tones whose naturalness and pathos stole into our very heart of hearts ; we saw the same abstraction, the same abandon- ment, the same rapturous awakening to joy, to love, and to de- votion. Such novel and extraordinary passages, such daring flights into the region of fioriture, together with chromatic runs ascending and descending, embracing the three registers of the soprano, mezzo - soprano, and contralto, we have not heard since the days of Malibran." On her second appearance, being no longer trammeled by the circumstances which had previously harassed her, Madame PAULINE YIAKDOT GAECIA. 411 Viarclot's triumph was complete. " Madame Viardot's voice grows imconsciously upon you," observes oue critic, " until at last you are blind to its imperfections. The voice penetrates to the heart by its sympathetic tones, and you forget every thing in it but its touching and affecting quality. You care lit- tle or nothing for the mechanism, or rather for the weakness of the organ ; you are no longer a critic, but spell-bound under the hand of genius, moved by the sway of the enthusiasm that comes from the soul — abashed in the presence of intellect." From that time Madame Viardot aj^peared almost every season in London in all the great parts in which she had dis- tinguished herself on the Continent. Her most memorable achievement was her performance in 1849 of the character of Fides in Le Prophtte. This opera was then a novelty, having been recently produced at Paris. Meyerbeer had kept it long in his portfolio, determined not to bring it out till Fides could be represented by the performer for whom it had been ex- pressly written. Madame Viardot's appearance in it on the Parisian boards had created an immense sensation, and equally great was the impression made by her reappearance in it at Covent Garden. It has since been sustained by other perform- ers of the greatest eminence, but it has been unanimously ad- mitted that none have attained the standard given by Yiardot. Her last season in England was that of 1858. There was an Italian Opera at Drury Lane, for which she was engaged, and where she appeared in several of her jDrincii^al parts. In this, as in previous years, she sang at the leading concerts in the metropolis, and at the great provincial festivals. Her last appearances in England were at the Diruiingham festival of the above year. From England she went to Poland. In December, Prince Gortschakoff entertained in his palace all the rank and fashion of Warsaw with a concert, at which she was the chief attrac- tion. She sang the grand air from L' Itallana, two pieces from Le ProphUc, and some Russian airs. The performance of ie ProphUc being prohibited at Warsaw, Madame Viardot made her debut two days after in Korma ; she next appeared in II Parhiere, when her rccci^tion was, if possible, even more brilliant. After the performance. Prince Cautacuzene was sent by Prince Gortschakoff to invite Madame Viardot to tea in the governor general's house, where she was met by an assem- 412 QUEENS OF SONG. bly of the elite of the court and the nobility. The January and February of the following year found Madame Viardot at Ber- lin. Her success, it is unnecessary to add, was immense : the theatre was always crowded at double prices. In March, 1861, this incomparable artiste created a great sensation by singing in a selection from Glilck's Alceste, at the Paris Conservatoire, where she had not sung for many years. She appeared again in Paris in 1862. Madame Viardot, in private life, is loved and esteemed for her pure and cultivated mind, her amiable temper, the suavity of her manner, and her high principles, as she has been admired by the public for her genius, her voice, and her dramatic pow- er, and respected for her punctuality and willingness to oblige. She had never ceased to be a favorite, but always retained her supremacy, spite of the most attractive novelty or the most brilliant rivalry. I FANXY PEKSIANI. 413 CHAPTER XXXI. FANNY PEESIANI. Nicholas Tacchinaedi, who was the great star of the Ode- on under the Emph-e, was one of the most admired tenors of his day. He was not by nature formed for a stage hero, being short, with a large head sunk in his shoulders, and a repulsive face ; but he had an exquisite voice and irreproachable taste, and was as capricious as he was ugly. Nor did his demeanor on the stage lessen the unfavorable impression of his person ; for he would march down to the orchestra with his hat in one hand, and his cane in the other, and then, without the least gesture or action, sing his song, and walk off again. Being perfectly conscious that his personal defects operated against him in the estimation of those who were not familiar with his beautiful voice, he would beg those who wrote for him to give him parts which permitted him to sing at the side-scenes be- fore entci'ing on the stage, that thus he might be heard before being seen. This expedient was not always easy to manage, however, so he invented another stratagem for concealing from the spectators some portion of his unfortunate figure; he would come on the stage standing in a triumphal car, looking even then a victor whose aspect terribly belied his supposed deeds. At his first appearance on the boards of the Odcon, he was saluted with the most insulting outburst of laughter and smothered ejaculations of " Why, he's a hunchback !" Being accustomed to this kind of greeting, Tacchinardi tranquilly walked to the foot-lights and bowed. " Gentlemen," he said, addressing the pit, " I am not here to exhibit my person, but to sing. Have the goodness to hear me." They did hear him, and when he ceased, the theatre rang with plaudits : there was no more laughter. His personal disadvantages were redeem- ed by one of the finest and purest tenor voices ever given by Nature and refined by Art, by his extraordinary intelligence, by an admirable method of singing, an exquisite taste in fiori- ture, and a marvelous facility of execution. 414 QUEENS OF SONG. After the events of 1815 Tacchinardi left France and re- turned to his native Italy ; and when at Rome he had a sec- ond daughter, Fanny, born October 4, 1818. She was pas- sionately fond of music ; and while yet a child, her father gave her lessons. At nine she could play on the piano, and sing with grace, though iifa thin, uncertain voice, her father's ari- ettas and duettini, with her elder sister, Elisa, who was an ex- cellent pianist, and a good musician and composer. At eleven Fanny performed, as a childish amateur, the part of i:»rima don- na at a little theatre which her father had fitted wp in his coun- try house near Florence (his native city) for the use of his jsu- pils. Despite her decided talent and predilection for the stage, however, her father was averse to her adoptiug it as a profes- sion. But she sang in public when fourteen, with much success, at the concerts of amateurs and of artists, and at some theatrical representations for the benefit of her father; and in 1828 and 1829 she sang many times in the concerts which were given during Lent at the court of the Grand-Duke of Tuscany, where Tacchinardi had been chanteur du chambre since 1822. Na- ture had given to Fanny a voice of great extent, but wanting, in some parts, flexibility, sweetness, and power ; defects Avhich subsequent hard study and untiring efibrts only to a certain degree remedied. In 1830 Fanny Tacchinardi married Joseph Persian!, a com^ poser of several operas of more or less merit, and resided with him in her father's house, far from the musical world. But she was, like Mara and our own Billington, like Malibran, Pauline Viardot, and many others, a musicienne de race^ and, as such, her gifts could not be kept in obscurity. A French amateur, a M. Fournier, a rich merchant estab- lished at Leghorn, had composed an opera entitled Francesca di Himini, the subject being taken from the tragedy of Pelli- co. The Frenchman was one of those musical enthusiasts who are ready to do any thing if only their pieces are publicly rep- resented, and he was prepared to pay for every thing — the scenery, the singers, the musicians. The first vocalists were accordingly engaged, Madame Pisaroni and Rosalbina Cara- dori being the contralto and soprano. On the day of rehearsal, June, 1832, all the singers responded to the call with the ex- ception of Madame Caradori, Avho was detained at Florence by FANNY PEKSIANI. 415 the public. M. Fonrnier was in despair, and the manager in a fidget. What was to be done ? Suddenly some one recol- lected the distinguished dilettante, Madame Persiani, who re- sided some leagues from Leghorn, and might perhaps be in- duced to undertake the part of the heroine on this occasion. Accordingly, a dei^utation of the friends of M. Fournicr, among whom were some friends of Tacchinardi, came to represent the case of the poor composer in want of a soprano singer, and im- plored her aid. After some hesitation, and,.having obtained^ the consent of her husband and father, Madame Persiani signed ~wTth-ar4rrembling hand the engagement Avhich was offered her, and made her debut in the Franeesca di IHrnini of the mer- chant-musician . It must be confessed that her debut was not brilliant : it did not even presage future successes. Having commenced her ca- -feer, however, she was too valorous to relinquish it. Passing to the theatre of Milan, she there laid the foundation of her renown, Avhich rose rapidly at Florence, where she sang with Duprez and Porto. Donizetti, who was then in that city, wrote for these three artistes his Rosmonila cV Inghilterra. Madame Persiani was next engaged at Vienna, Avhere the impression which she made was all the more honorable to her, as the great theatre of that capital is the rendezvous of the elite of Viennese society. She was afterward engaged at Pa- dua, and at Venice, where, in 1833, she played chiefly in Bo- rneo e Giulietta., II Plrata., La Gazza Ladra^ and L^Elisir d^Amorc. Madame Pasta was singing here, and Madame Persiani, who performed Avith her in Tancredi and L^JElisir d' Amove, did not hesitate to enter into competition with this illustrious rival. The Venetians were charmed with the blonde Persiani, and unanimously designated her "la petite Pasta," though in her talent she did not resemble the great tragedian in the remotest degree. At Milan, where the echo of her Ve- netian successes had preceded her, she appeared in Beatrice di Tenda and La Sonnamhida. In the autumn of the same year (1833) she left for Rome, and during her stay in that city, two operas, Mlsantro2)ia e Pentimcnto and I Promessi /Sposi, Avere written for her. She also performed Avith Ronconi in II Pl- rata. At Pisa, in Otello, she met Avith equal admiration, and she sang at the Teatro Carlo Felice, at Genoa, during the Car- nival. 416 QUEENS OP SONG. The next year she was at the San Carlo, at Naples, with Duprez, Coselli, and Lablache. Donizetti, who was charmed with her voice, resolved to write another opera for her ; and as with him there was not much delay between conceiving an idea and carrying it into execution, being furnished with an interesting libretto, the last act of which he wrote himself, he set to work, and in the space of six weeks produced one of the most beautiful operas he had ever written — Lucia di Lam- mermoor. Duprez, then in the zenith of his power, was a singer of the first order, and it is thought that the large and severe style of this vocalist exerted a favorable influence on the inspiration of the composer, who wrote for him the char- acter of Edgardo. As the gentle Lucy, Madame Persiani was soft, pathetic, sentimental, and imj^assioned. She performed with ease, intelligence, and expression. This part always re- mained her favorite. J In appearance Madame Persiani was small and thin, with a ' face somewhat long and coloi'less, and though interesting and pleasing, on the stage she looked older than she really was. Her eyes were soft and dreamy, her smile piquant, her hair ex- quisitely fair and unusually long. Her manner was lady-like and unassuming, and her actions were graceful. " Never was there woman less vulgar, in physiognomy or in manner, than V she," says Mr. Chorley, describing Madame Persiani; "but y^^vjiever was there one whose appearance on the stage was less / distinguished. She was not precisely insignificant to see, so much as pale, plain, and anxious. She gave the imjiression of one who had left sorrow or sickness at home, and who there- fore (unlike those wonderful deluders, the French actresses, who, because they will not be ugly, rarely looJc so) had re- signed every question of personal attraction as a hopeless one. She was singularly tasteless in her dress. Her one good jjoint was her hair, which was splendidly profuse, and of an agreea- ble color." — - As a vocalist, it was agreed that her singing had the volu^ bility, ease, and musical sweetness of a bird : her execution was remarkable for velocity. Her voice was rather thin, but its tones were clear as a silver bell, brilliant and sparkling as a diamond : it embraced a range of two octaves and a half (or about eighteen notes, from B to F in alt), the highest and low- est notes of which she touched with equal ease and sweetness. FANNY PERSIAN!. 417 She had thus an organ of tlie most extensive compass known in the register of the true soprano. Her faciUty was extraor- dinary ; her voice was implicitly under her command, and ca- pable not only of executing the greatest difficulties, but also of obeying the most daring caprices — scales, shakes, trills, di- visions, fioriture the most dazzling and inconceivable. She ed this command by indefatigable labor. Study_ / enabled her fo~execute Avith fluency and correctness the ( chromatic scales ascending and descending, and it was by sheer hard practice that she learned to swell and diminish her accents ; to emit tones full, large, and free from nasal or gut- tural sounds, to manage her respiration skillfully, and to seize the delicate shades of vocalization. In fioriture and vocal ef- fects her taste was faultless ; and she had an agreeable manner of uniting her tones by the happiest transitions, and diminish- ^ Avith insensible gradations. She excelled in the effects of^ rocal embroidery, and her passion for ornamentation tempted her to disregard the dramatic situation in order to give Avay to a torrent of splendid fioriture, which dazzled the audience without always satisfying them. She excelled in Lucia, Amina, Ninetta, and Zerlina : charac- ters which require placidity, feminine grace, softness, and ap- peal to the sympathies of the spectators, were best adapted to her style and talent. That she was not incapable of tragic emotion, however, her mad scene in Lucia di Lammermoor attested. "It is not only the nature of her voice Avhich limits her," remarks Escudier, " it is also the expression of her act- ing — we liad almost said the ensemble of her physical organi- zation. She knows her own powers perfectly. She is not ambitious, she knows exactly what will suit her, and is aware precisely of the nature of her talent." Her style Avas all her own — graceful and gentle. As Zerlina, she Avas the bewitch- ing Spanish girl, in all her native beauty and picturesquencss ; her innovations Avere rare ; every touch was in the finest taste ; and since the days of Fodor, no one invested the character of Zerlina Avith so much truth and grace as Madame Persian i. Yet she shone less in Mozart's music than in the compositions of other masters ; her light and brilliant voice, her airy style, iittiner her more for the modern Italian than the severe Ger- man school. As an actress, Madame Persiani, although not very animated, Avas natural, often touching. She possessed 27 S2 418 QUEENS OF SONG. much versatility, and in comedy was easy and elegant, her best parts being Rosina and Adina. She belonged to the same school as Sontag. On the occasion of her second visit to Naples in 1835, an incident occurred which afforded Madame Persian! deej) grat- ification. During the representation of Lucia, she was one evening changing her costume betvv-een tho acts, when a lady entered her dressing-room, and" after a few general compli- ments on her singing, took in her hands the long fair tresses which floated in wild profusion over the shoulders of the can- tatrice, asking if they were really her own. Madame Persiani laughingly invited her to satisfy herself on this point, when the visitor said, with a smile, " Allow me, signora, since I have no wreath of flowers to offer you, to twine you one with your own beautiful tresses ; " and she did so. Madame Persiani's heart beat with pride and joy, for it was Malibran who sjiokc. From Naples she went to Genoa. Here Severini heard her and offered her an engagement for the Theatre Italien. She accepted it provisionally, being unable to go immediately to France in consequence of her numerous engagements. In the same year, coming from Naples to Leghorn to fulfill an engagement at Florence, she fell seriously ill during the voyage, in consequence of a dreadful storm which broke over the vessel. On her arrival in the Tuscan capital, she present- ed herself weak and exhausted before the impresario, who nev- ertheless insisted on enforcing the terms of her engagement, and on compelling her to appear in I Puritani. She remon- strated in vain, and went on in a nearly dying condition, hop- ing for the indulgence of the audience. Scarcely had the first few notes escaped her quivering lips when she was borne down by a storm of angry hisses. But, so far from crushing Ma- dame Persiani, this unexpected salutation gave her an impetus, and seeing the audience thus pitiless, she continued her part with the most imperturbable coolness, careless whether they were pleased or not. A few weeks later, when she had recov- ered her strength and voice, the popular admiration became boundless; but she was as insensible to praises as she had been to reproaches : she replied to the enthusiasm by a dis- dainful, icy smile, and at the expiration of her engagement left Florence never to return. At Vienna she was named chamber-singer to the emperor. FANNY PERSIANI. 419 At Venice, in 1837, the evcv-industrious Donizetti, who "wrote more oj^cras than he had lived years, composed for her and Roncoui his Pia Tolomei, which was performed at the Apollo Theatre. Madame Persiani was at length free to undertake her Pa- risian engagement. As she approached the French capital, her fears grew almost insupportable ; and when at last the day was fixed irrevocably for her debut, an involuntary shivering seized her, and her limbs bent under her as she stepped on the stage, November 7, 1837. The opera wasia Sonnamhula^ and Ru- bini, Tamburini, and Mdlle. Assandri were the performers with the debutante. The aristocratic audience of the theatre was not tardy in sanctioning with its high approval the great re- nown which had preceded the candidate for their favor ; but her debut was not so brilliant as might have been expected. Timidity, perhaps, was the cause that obscured the beauty of her talent, and until she appeared in II JSIatrimonio Segreto^ she was not rightly apjircciated. "Since the retirement of Madame Fodor," said one critic, " the part of Carolina has never been comprehended, sung, and rendered with the same mixtin-e of sweetness and power J' Rubini, Tamburini, IMdlle. Assandri, and Madame Albertazzi took the other characters. In December she appeared as Lucia, and from this time she was the idol of the Parisian public, who placed her above even Grisi herself, for the same reason that they placed Duprez above all tenors, even above Nourrit. In 1838 Madame Persiani appeared in London at Her Maj- esty's Theatre inX« Sowuanhida. "It is no small risk to any vocalist to follow Malibran and Grisi in a part which they both played so well," observed one critic, " and it is no small com- pliment to Persiani to say that she succeeded in it." She next appeared as Lucia Avith Rnbini, Tamburini, etc. By the close of the season she had established herself as an undoubted fa- vorite, and she continued, with little intermission, to sing al- ternately in London and Paris for many years. In 1839 she performed at Her Majesty's Theatre with Grisi, Lablache, Tamburini, and Mario. In 1841, after the close of the London season, she sang for twelve nights at Brussels, with Rnbini ; and it was said that the two artistes received each £100 nightly. In October they were at Wiesbaden, and during the tour they had undertaken, 420 QUEENS OF SONG. they were every -where received with the warmest acclama- tions; but at Wiesbaden the "enthusiasm" was greatest. Princes, ministers, and diplomats crowded round M. Metter- nich, who had come from his chateau of Johannisberg, to be present at the concert given by the two eminent vocalists; and at the conclusion of the performance, the prince took Ru- bini by the arm, and walked up and down the salon with him for some time. They had become acquainted at Vienna. "My dear Rubini," said Metternich, " it is impossible that you can come so near Johannisberg without paying me a visit there. I hope you and your friends will come and dine with me to- morrow." The following day, therefore, Rubini, Madame Per- siani, etc., went to the chateau, so celebrated for the produce of its vineyards, Avhere M. Metternich and his princess did the honors with the utmost affability and cordiality. After din- ner, Rubini, unasked, sang two of his most admired airs ; and the prince, to testify his gratification, offered him a basket of Johannisberg, "to drink my health," he laughingly said, "when you reach your chateau of Bergamo." Rubini accepted the friendly offering, and begged permission to bring Madame Ru- bini, before quitting the north of Europe, to visit the fine cha- teau. Metternich immediately summoned his major-domo, and said to him, " Remember that if ever M. Rubini visits Johan- nisberg during my absence, he is to be received as if he were its master. You will place the whole of the chateau at his disposal so long as he may please to remain." "And the cel- lar also ? " asked Rubini. " The cellar also," added the prince, smiling : " the cellar at discretion." In 1842 Madame Persian! was again in London. In Paris she was more admired every day. This year, being in Vienna, Donizetti wrote for her his pathetic oj^era o^ Linda di Cha- moicni. As the unfortunate Linda, she almost equaled her performance of Lucia, and displayed great taste and feeling. She did not come to England in 1845, but in 1846 she was warmly welcomed. It was observed that her voice was bril- liant and clear as ever, and that she had, if possible, improved in the mechanical resources of her art. In 1847, Covent Garden Theatre, converted into a superb, spacious opera-house, was ojiened i;nder the title of the Royal Italian Opera ; and it was understood that several of the i^rin- cipal performers had invested large funds in the undertaking. / FANNY PERSIANI. 421 which was directed by Signor Persiani. It was, according to the announcement of the proprietors, " established for the pur- pose of rendering a more perfect performance of lyric drama than hitherto in this country." The principal members of the company, who had quitted Her Majesty's Theatre, wei*e Mes- dames Grisi and Persiani, and a young singer named Mdlle. Alboni, who had gained a reputation in Italy ; Signori Mario and Tamburini, Salvi and Ronconi, Rovere and Marini. The orchestra, which was under the superintendence of Signor Cos- ta (formerly chef d'orchestre of Her Majesty's Theatre), was of extraordinary strength and excellence. The chorus was numerous and efficient, while the costumes, scenery and dec- ovations were magnificent. In October Madame Persiani reappeared at the Italiens with Tagliafico and Gardoni; but she vanished from the stage at Paris, terrified, like many other songstresses, by the thunders of the Revolution, and accepted an engagement at a salary of £040 for the season of 1848, from Mr. Delafield, who was just -embarking on his rash speculation as an operatic manager. In 1849 she sang again, receiving £500, when she performed Zer- lina and other favorite characters. After this year Madame Persiani took leave of the London stage, altho^igh she contin- ued to sing at concerts. In March, 1850, Madame Persiani, with Tamburini and Gar- doni, signed an engagement to appear at the Theatres Royal of Amsterdam and the Plague. She was subsequently engaged with Mario and Tamburini for the Imperial Theatre of St. Pe- tersburg, whore she appeared in La Sonnamhula^ II Barhkrc^ etc., and in II Fantasma^ an opera by her husband. She was greatly admired in this capital ; and the Czar Nicholas, Avith the members of the imperial family, gave her the most grati- fying proofs of approbation. Quitting St. Petersburg, she went to Moscow, where she gave several representations and con- certs. She afterward visited Prussia, Germany, Saxony, Ecl- giura, Holland, Spain, Ireland, Scotland, and the principal cit- ies of France. In 1854 she was engaged to sing for fifteen nights at the Teatro Communale of Bologna; she also sang at concerts in London the same year, and in 185G she was sing- ing at Bordeaux. In 1858 she accepted, after some hesitation, an engagement from Mr. E. T. Smith to sing in opera at Drury Lane, and appeared in I Puritanic Bon Pasquale^ Linda di 422 QUEENS OF SONG. Chcmiouniy and Do7i Giovanni. She was greeted with the old familiar plaudits. One of her pupils, Miss Laura Baxter, also appeared. In December, 1858, Madame Persiaui fixed her residence at Paris, with the view of devoting herself en- tirely to musical tuition. There she has since remained. In 1859, when Mario was about to take his benefit (March 14) at the Theatre Italien, Calzado, director, entreated Madame Persiani to undertake the character of Zerlina. The part of Don Giovanni having been transposed for Mario, the part of Zerlina was also necessarily altered, especially the passages which she has to sing with the Don. Madame Persiani at first refused to enter on so daring a task as performing this version of Zerlina almost without a rehearsal ; but Signer Ma- rio pleaded his own cause so eloquently that she yielded. She was anxious, in fact, to pay her debt of gratitude to the Paris- ians, whose idol she had been, and she felt that she could not do so more gracefully than by appearing for the last time in / her life in a part with which her name was so pleasantly asso- / ciated. "My career," she said, "began almost in lisping the-f' divine music of Don Giovanni; it will be appropriately closed, by the interpretation of this chef-d'a3uvre of the master of masters, the immortal Mozart," Her voice was found to be singularly fresh and clear, her talent had lost nothing of its piquancy, and she was applauded to the echo. On leaving the theatre after this performance she learned the death of her father, the celebrated Tacchinardi. CATHAKINE HATES. 423 CHAPTER XXXn. CATHAEINE HAYES. The shades of a summer evening were beginning to gather over the city of Limerick, so famed for its gloves, its races, and its lasses; parties of pleasm'e were floating down the Shannon, passing, one after another, the pictm'esque gardens attached to the mansion of the Earl of Limerick and to the See house of the bishop, which stretched to the river's edge, when the silence of evening was broken by a delicious child- ish warbling, as if some little Loreley had emerged from the stream. Song after song was poured forth in quick succes- sion, and more than one boat crept under the shadow of the trees, that its occupants might listen to the unseen songstress, who, hidden in a woodbine bower, unconscious of the audience she had attracted, continued singing till, at the conclusion of the Lass of Goici'ie, she broke into a prolonged and thrilling shake. The listeners, carried away by their admiration, made the welkin ring with a rapturous shout of applause, startling the timid child, who fled, half blushing, half frightened. The singer was little Catharine Hayes, then some ten years of age, a native of Limerick, born in 1828 at No. 4 Patrick Street. A gentle, reserved girl, delicate and quiet, shrinking from the rough sports of other children, her great enjoyment was to sit alone in the woodbine arbor at the end of the gar- den of the Earl of Limerick (an aged female relative being in the service of that nobleman), and here she would warble all the Irish ballads she caught up from time to time. Among the listeners on tliis particular evening Avas the Hon. and Right Rev. Edmoud Knox, Bishop of Limerick, Avhose cor- rect taste and refined judgment enabled him to immediately discern the budding talent of the little songstress. From that evening her open-air practice ceased, and little Kitty found herself a musical wonder. She Avas invited to the See house, and became the star of a series of musical reunions given by her new patron, and directed by the Messrs. Rogers, musicians 424 QUEENS OF SOXG. of much promise, one of whom afterward became organist of Limerick Cathedral. Catharine was also noticed by a lady of the city, a highly accomplished amateur, who, pleased with the youthful talent of the child, invited her to her house, and voluntarily taught her to sing simple ballads, being amply repaid by the quick intelligence of her little pupil. One day the lady asked her to execute a shake ; the blushing girl modestly shrank from the difficulty, although urged most pressingly; her ambition being awakened, however, she determined to try if she really could manage it, and, returning to the solitude of her wood- bine bower, she began to imitate the shake played for her by her friend, and discovered, with a thrill of joy, that she could absolutely give it in perfection. Timid, and unable to quite credit that she was indeed gifted with this valuable grace, Catharine did not acknowledge that she had achieved the dif- ficulty, but a few days after, placing herself at the piano be- side her friend, she lost her timidity completely on the ter- mination of a ballad, and broke into a shake so brilliant, so ringing, so finished, that her hearer was astonished, and ut- tered an exclamation of delight, which j^enetrated to the heart of Catharine : amid all the triumphs of her professional career, the "surprise, aifection, and gladness" with which her shake on this occasion was greeted by her friend, was never efiaced from her mind. It was from this lady that Miss Hayes gained the first elementary knowledge of music. The bishop, pleased at the rapid progress of his protegee, and anxious to give her an opportunity of making her talents available for her suj^port, consulted with some friends in Lim- erick, who concurred in advising him to place Catharine with some eminent musical professor ; and her mother being unable to defray the expenses, a subscription was raised, and a large sum soon collected. Signer Antonio Sapio was selected as the master for Miss Hayes. The bishop accordingly wrote to him, and the little Catharine, bidding adieu to her mother and sis- ter Henrietta, went to Dublin, and took up her residence with Signer Sapio, April 1, 1S39. Her voice was then a soprano, with a full, clear, silvery tone ; her natural taste was pure and refined, but her knowl- edge of music was very limited. She was earnest, however, and eagerly applied to study with the view of perfecting her- CATHARINE HATES. 425 self as a concert singer, and she studied so assiduously that in a few weeks there Avas a visible improvement. On May 3d, 1839, scarcely a month from the time of her arrival in Dubhn, she ajipeared with her master at his annual concert in the great room of the Rotunda, before a crowded and fashionable audience. She was Avelcomed with Irish cordiality, and, al- though timid, she sang with some confidence. Even the pro- fessional friends of her master were surj^rised at her rapid im- provement. She sang with great sweetness, and was encored in the duet, " O'er shepherd pipe," with Signor Sapio. Her second appearance took place on the 8th of December, at a concert given by the Anacreontic Society. Her style, natur- ally pure, had been cultivated Avith the utmost care, and her execution of " Qui la voce," from I Puritani, and " Come per sereno," showed the excellence of her tuition. The folloAving month the young singer jjaid a visit to her native city, Avhere her patrons were greatly astonished and gratified by her singular progress. Tlie bishop gave a pri- vate concert expressly in her honor, and her performance rich- ly rewarded those friends Avho had taken so kind an interest in her welfare. Before quitting Limerick she sang in public at a musical entertainment, for the joint benefit of herself and Signor Sapio. On returnmg to Dublin and resuming her studies, her ardor required to be checked, lest her health should suffer from too constant application. She sang again in public, June 12, 1841, at a concert given by Mr. J. P. Knight, at which she Avas in- troduced to Liszt, Avho Avas so charmed Avith her voice and style that he Avrotc in terms of congratulation to Mrs. Knox, daughter-in-laAV of the Bishop of Limerick. During the re- mainder of this year Miss Hayes Avas one of the leading sing- ers at the Anacreontic, Philharmonic, and other Dublin con- certs. She Avas soon in a position to command terms, and in- creased her demand from five to ten guineas — a prosaic meth- od of proving that she Avas becoming a faA'orite with the pub- lic. She visited Belfast (singing at the opening of the Ana- creontic Hall), Limerick, Parsonstown, and other places, in the course of the summer and autumn. On September 12th Catharine Avas introduced to Lablache, the mighty basso. She Avas rather alarmed at the idea of singing before this veteran judge, and it was with much dif- 426 QUEENS OF SONG. ficulty that she could be persuaded to venture on "Qui la voce." Lablache heard her with attention; and when she had finished, instead of offering any opinion, he simply asked her to try another and more difficult solo. Then he proposed that they should sing a duet together, then another, till the trial terminated in a day's practice. At last Lablache smiled, and with some flattering words predicted a most glowing fu- ture for her. He advised that she should turn her attention to operatic singing, and, as a preliminary stej), suggested that she should go to see Grisi and Mario perform in JVorma. The height of Catharine's ambition had previously been to become a concert singer ; but these remarks changed the direction of her ideas. Lablache's opinion Avas conveyed in the following letter to Signer Sapio: "I have heard with infinite pleasure your pupil. Miss Playes, and I find she possesses all the qualities to make a good singer. With your instruction she can but gain every day, and I am certain she will end by becoming a i^erfect vo- calist in every sense of the word." Mr. Benedict was also present at this interview. i I The next night Catharine went to hear Madame Grisi ; and i / from that night her aim was to become an ojDeratic singer, j She remained under the tuition of Signer Sapio until August, i 1842, when she returned home, one of her last performances in Dublin being at a private concert given by the Countess de Grey. Her great desire was now to go immediately to Paris, in order to take finishing lessons from Manuel Garcia, and she succeeded in obtaining the consent of her friends to her departure. It was suggested that she might wait until a family, about to go to France in October, should leave Ire- land, when she could accomi^any them; but the thought of the delay fretted the impatient girl, and she became so fever- I ish that her friends were fain to permit her to start alone. In October Cathai'iue arrived in Paris with a letter of introduc- tion to Mr. George Osborne, the pianist, by whose amiable wife she was warmly received. Miss Hayes at once commenced her studies with Garcia, \ whom she declared to be " the dearest, the kindest, and the '■ most generous of masters." At the end of eighteen months, Garcia said, he could not add a single grace or charm to her beautiful voice, and advised her to proceed immediately to It- I CATHARINE HAYES. 427 aly, where alone she could obtain the requisite finish and prac- tice for the lyric stage. In accordance with this counsel she went to Milan, and placed herself under the instruction of Signor Felice Ronconi (brother of the celebrated baritone), professor of singing to the Conservatorio. While studying with him, her clear, pure voice and already admirable style caused her to be invited to numerous musical reunions, at one of which she met Grassini, who sincerely congratulated her on the possession of an organ so beautiful, and on the bright fu- ture which awaited her. The signora also gave a more sub- stantial proof of her disinterested admiration by writing to Signor Provini, impresario of the Opera at Marseilles, telling him of this young star, and advising him, in a friendly way, not to lose an opportunity of securing a valuable addition to his company. Signor Provini accordingly came to Milan, and, having heard Miss Hayes, offered her terms which seemed to her a fortune, and she joyfully accepted an engagement for two months. The 10th of May, 1845, Catharine Hayes stood trembling at the wings in the Opera House of Marseilles as Elvira in I Pio- ritani. The house was crowded, and she felt a kind of faint- ness, and a dreadful sinking of the heart ; indeed, when she stepped on the stage, she thought her failure was almost cer- tain, and she afterward said that the agony of that thought was nearly insupportable. The audience received her Avith some slight encouragement ; but the trying scene between El- vira and Giorgio passed off in silence : not a sound of appro- val was heard until the eighth scene oj^ened, when, in her bridal array, the agitated Elvira, licr lips blanched Avith fear, again appeared. She was faint and frightened, and the fail- ure which she had anticipated on her first entry now seemed certain. But on commencing the polacca " Son Vergin," she felt suddenly inspired, and, her very despair lending her cour- age, she sang this beautiful air with sweetness, tenderness, and expression. " The ice Avas at once thaAvecl," says one of her biographers; "a general burst of approbation startled her from almost despair into a perfect rapture. A flattering en- core then farther bewildered her Avith a ncAV and exquisite joy, and at its termination, as the shouts of applause foUoAved her from the stage, she Avept with pleasure to know that the dream of her life's ambition had begun to be realized, and she 428 QUEEXS OF SONG. felt she had succeeded. The curtain fell amid the most en- thusiastic plaudits, renewed again and again, till the agitated but delighted girl reappeared, when numbers of the passion- ate music-loving audience who had rushed en masse from the / theatre, and retui'ned loaded with artificial flowers, literally / filled the stage with their graceful ofierings, making a perfect ./ garden around the embarrassed debutante." { She next appeared in Lucia di Lammermoor, when she con- firmed the favorable impression which she had created ; and afterward she performed Zora in Mosh in Egitto. During her three months' stay in Marseilles, her jDopularity increased so rapidly that Signer Provini actually ofiered her an engage- ^ ment at the Opera in Paris. Fearing, however, to encounter \ such an ordeal while she had yet so much to learn, she wisely 1 declined the brilliant ofier and returned to jMilan, where she \ resumed her studies under the direction of Signor Ronconi. \ T^^ young singer next ajDj^eared at the annual concert of Ri- ' cordi, the music publisher, where she met the manager of La \ Scala, Signor Morelli, who offered her an engagement, which , she accepted. She was then only seventeen, being the young- ; \ est artiste who ever filled the position of prima donna at that I [ vast theatre. \ Three months after she mMe her debut at La Scala, in ■ .Donizetti's Linda di Chamouni, but without success. Her \ timidity, perhaps, was the reason. She then appeared as Des- idemona, and "made a decided fiasco." But she courageously /persevered, and at last created a great sensation in La Son- namhula. In Otello she also achieved a triumph, the charac- ter of Desdemona being well adapted to her delicate, girlish style of beauty, and her clear, pure soprano : she represented this gentle heroine so admirably that the Milanese unanimous- ly gave her the flattering designation of " la Perla del Teatro." She remained at Milan during the autumn of 1845 and the Carnival of 1846, when Madame Bishop was engaged. Li the spring of 1846 Miss Hayes went to Vienna, where, she laugh- ingly wrote home, she was quite " spoilt." " She was afraid," she said, " that her head would be turned with the intoxica- tion of such unexpected success." On the first night of the Carnival of 1847 Miss Hayes made her appearance in Venice, in a new opera composed expressly for her by Malespino, a young Italian nobleman, entitled Al- CATHAKINE HAYES. 429 hergo di Momano. The music was indifferent, and the sing- ers worse. The audience received the opera with chilUng si- lence ; and when Cutarina entered in the middle of the first act, she found the house in a horribly bad humor. At sight of her fair young face, however, and on hearing the clear tones of her sweet sojirano, the anger of the audience grad- ually dissipated ; and although Catharine could not save the IHCce from condemnation, she rescued it for this one night. She then a^ipeared as Lucia with great success. During the rondo of the third act, the audience was so silent that (said the Fifjaro of Venice) the buzzing of a fly might have been heard ; and at the close of the oi^era Miss Hayes was called twice on the stage, and applauded for nearly ten minutes. In Linda di Chamouni, she was not only completely successful, but was the cause of a little theatrical uproar. At Venice, the law regulating theatres prohibits any artiste, at any thea- tre, from appearing before the curtain more than thrice, in compliance with a call from the audience ; but when Miss Hayes had retired at the end of the opera on this occasion, the excited crowd shouted for her to come forward a fourth time. The young prima donna dared not venture to disobey the police regulations ; and the excitement then became ter- rific, the audience asseverating that if she did not apf)ear as many times as they chose to call for her, they would tear down the theatre : it was judged advisable to yield to their wishes, and, when she finally appeared, she was covered with flowers. She also performed in a new opera, Griselda, by Frederico Ricci, and then visited Vienna, where Ricci wrote for her his EstreUa. She then returned to Italy, appearing first at Milan, where she sang in Mercadante's Giuramento^ and also in 3Ior- tedo^ an opera composed expressly for her. Thence she went to Bergamo, where she met Ri;bini at a banquet given by the podesta. She had alvrays greatly desired to hear this illustri- ous tenor, and, having intimated her wish, he very kindly sang for her his celebrated air from II Pirata, asking her afterward to accompany him in the duet " Su la Tomba," from Lucia di Lammermoor. Anxious to give this great master a favorable idea of her powers. Miss Hayes exerted herself to the utmost, and surpassed herself Rubini said the most flattering things to her, and assured her of undoubted success. For her bene- 430 QUEENS OF SONG. fit at Bergamo she gave a miscellaneous concert, which Avas largely attended. From Bergamo she went, in September, 1847, to Verona, where she sang during the Carnival in Verdi's I Mas)iadiei% and was received with a tempest of applause. Thence she went to Florence, where she met Madame Catalani, who al- ways welcomed her as a visitor. One day, Catharine having sung in the salon before a large company, the ex-Queen of Song kissed her afiectionately, and exclaimed, "What would I not give to be in London when you make your debut! Your fortune is certain ; and remember, my doors are always open to you." Mercadante, the composer, also expressed the highest admiration for Catarina's talents. At the Carlo Felice, Genoa, she performed Maria di Rohan and other leading parts in Verdi's works with distinguished success. On the occasion of her farewell benefit, when the curtain fell, the aristocratic ladies left their boxes, and went behind the scenes to present the young donna with enormous bouquets, expressing at the same time the warmest wishes for her success in Encjland. Mr, Delafield, who had offered engagements to almost ev- ery prima donna in existence, had engaged Catharine Hayes at a salary of £1300. His company consisted of Mesdames Grisi, Persiani, and Brambilla, Signori Mario, Salvi, the two Lablaches, and Tamburini. On Tuesday, April 10, 1849, Cath- arine Hayes made her debut at the Royal Italian Opera, in Donizetti's Linda di Chamouni^ with Tagliafico, Salvi, Tam- burini, and Mdlle. de Meric, a new contralto. Her voice had now become a clear and beautiful soprano, of the sweetest quality, fresh, mellow, and pure, and of good compass, ascend- ing with ease to D in alt. The upper notes were limpid, and like a well-tuned silver bell up to A; thence up to D flat they were less liquid, and slightly veiled, betraying signs of having been strained by her exertions on the Italian stage. The mid- dle register had not yet gained that fullness and sonoi'ous sweet- ness Avhich afterward constituted its greatest charm, but the lower tones were the most beautiful ever heard iu a real so- prano. Her style, unpretendingly jjure, was artistic and grace- ful. She never forced her voice, although she had abundance of energy at command ; nor ever exaggerated, though she had deep sensibility and strong dramatic feeling. Her intonation ^ CATHARINE HATES. 431 was invariably correct, and she had great facility of execution, notwithstanding tliat her voice was not remarkable for flexi- bility. She had faults, it is true, but these were atoned for by many beauties. Her conception of character was fine, energetic, and earn- est, though she failed in the physical strength requisite for embodying her ideas; she never trifled on the stage, but, as far as her powers would admit, threw herself into the dramat^ ; ic situation with spirit. She was a touching actress in parts ^such as Amina, Lucia, or Linda — innocent, plaintive, and charming ; and in such characters the pathos of her singing was very touching. She was tall, with a fine figure, and deli- cately marked, perfectly feminine features ; her manner was graceful and ladylike, and her movements unconstrained. The audience received her with rapturous welcome, which I took her by surprise, and at first rendered her so nervous that she could scarcely command her powers. Her acting in the last scene, when Linda gradually recovers her reason and rec-/ ognizes her lover, her parents, and her friends, was beautiful' — pathetic and forcible in the highest degree. Toward the close of the performance, those who observed her narrowly saw that she was aifected by some overpowering emotion ; and when the curtain fell, she was to be seen kneeling in a private box, sobbing at the feet of her first and dearest friend, the Bishop of Limerick. She had noticed him among the as- sembly, and at the first opportunity flew to pour out her joy and gratitude, ascribing to him every honor and reward she had gained. All the London papers pronounced eulogiums on her performance, and her .success was undoiibted. Her second performance (3Iay 4) Avas Lucia di JLammer- moor, with Mario and Tamburini. She made a still more fa- vorable impression in this opera, in which she was not only pathetic, but original. Roberto il Dlavolo was rei)rcsented for the first time at the Italian Opera M:Ty 12, with great splendor, when Catharine Hayes took the part of Alice for the first time. The cast, though including one or two favor- ites, was not sufliciently strong, and the opera, not proving beneficial to the treasury, was withdrawn after two represent- ations. Madame Dorus Gras, in defiance of a severe cold, took the character of Alice at the second performance, in con- sequence of the sudden indisposition of Miss Hayes. 432 QUEENS OF SONG. The Irish prima donna had the honor of singing at Buck- ingham Palace toward the close of the season, when her maj- esty condescended to enter into conversation with her, com- plimenting her on what she was pleased to term her " deserv- ed success," and anticipating for her future honors and re- wards. Prince Albert and the Duke of Cambridge also paid her the most flattering compliments. The announcement of the engagement of Miss Hayes by the Dublin Philharmonic Society, after an absence of seven years, drew an unusually full audience to the concert-room, including the Earl and Countess of Clarendon. The welcome home of the " Irish Lind," as she was called, was truly Hibernian in its warmth and enthusiasm, and her singing created an extraor- dinary sensation. She made her second appearance at the Theatre Royal. The opera was Lucia di Lammermoor^ the Edgardo of the evening being Signor Pagliere, an unknown performer. " His ludicrous inefficiency," says a writer in the Dublin JJnwersity Magazine^ "elicited shouts of laughter, with a variety of ingenious mimicries from the wags among the audience,, the manifestations of disapprobation for him being blended with loud applause for the frightened debutante. In the midst of this uproar and noise, a more glaring break-down than before on Edgar's part was followed by a hurricane of " catcalls." Miss Hayes, with wonderful self-possession, cour- tesied to that unfortunate gentleman and left the stage. The curtain Avas then rung down, and an indescribable scene of tumultuous excitement followed, cheers, groans, laughter, and hisses forming a very Babel of discord. Mr. Sims Reeves, who, with Mr. Whitworth, Miss Lucombe, and an English op- era company, had terminated an engagement the day of Miss Hayes's coming, occupied a private box, and sat, during all this turmoil, full in view of the audience. He was quickly recognized, and shouts of "Reeves! Reeves!" arose from near- ly every part of the house. The lessee, Mr. Calcraft, on this, came forward, and intimated that "he had then no control over Mr. Reeves, whose engagement had terminated, and who, on being asked to sing on this emergency, had positively de- clined." Mr. Reeves instantly sprang to his feet, leaned out of the box, and on obtaining a partial silence, said, in no very temperate tones : " Ladies and gentlemen, I will sing to oblige you, but not to oblige Mr. Calcraft ;" on which the lessee, in il CATHAEIJTE HATES. 433 the blandest tones, concluded the first act of unpleasantness in these words : " I am not angry, I assure you, that Mr. Reeves has declined to sing to oblige me ; but I am gratified to find that he has consented to do so to please the audience, and doubly gratified because, under the untoward circumstances, he will support your gifted and distinguished young countrywoman," "After the necessary delay of dressing, etc., the curtain again rose, and the opera proceeded, Mr. Reeves performing Edgar better than on any former occasion in this city, and Miss Hayes nerving herself so fully for her task that no trace of tremulousness, no shadow of the agitating scene through which she had passed, marred the beauty of her singing and acting. At the termination of each act they were both called before the curtain ; and when the opera concluded, their pres- ence was again and again demanded, amid the almost furious waving, not only of hats and handkerchiefs, but of canes and umbrellas. The curtain having finally descended, the lessee came forward, Mr. Reeves also appearing at the wing, and still in the costume of Edgardo : this occasioned a renewal of the uproar; but mutual explanations ensued, and the singer and manager shook hands upon the stage. This unfortunate disturbance had nearly proved fatal to the success of the first appearance of Catharine Hayes in the metropolitan theatre of her birthplace; that success being thus suddenly imperiled, and so nearly marred, it is not surprising that Miss Hayes should refer to this incident as the most painful throughout her entire career." The following evening she appeared in Norma ; and she concluded h(jr brief engagement by performing in La Son- nambula^ completing her visit by two concerts given in her native city. Her second appearance in Dublin took place in February, 1850. The 11th and 12th of March she was en- Qfaored to sing at Limerick in Linda di Chamouni and Lucia di Lammermoor^ being accompanied by Miss Poole, Mr.Ti-av- ers, Signer Polonini, and Herr Menghis. From Limerick she went to Cork and Waterford, and her reception was every where most gratifying. Having accepted an engagement from Mr, Lumley, Catha- rine Hayes made her first appearance in Her Majesty's Thea- tre on the 2d of April, with Sims Reeves, and Signori Belletti and F. Lablache, Her debut in Lucia di Lammermoor was 28 T 434 QUEENS OF SONG. a great success. The London critics, without a single excep- tion, spoke in ecstasies of her vocal and dramatic excellence, yet she was afforded very few opportunities of appearing. Ill health may perhaps have interfered with her performances, for in June Madame Frezzolini was obliged, at a few hours' no- tice, to undertake her part of Lucia. During the winter of 1850-51 she went on a tour through Ireland, creating a furore scarcely inferior to the " Lind ma- nia" of '47. She then went through the English counties, singing at Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, etc. At the Carnival in Rome in 1851, she was engaged at the Teatro d'Apollone, and performed in Maria di Holian^ which she sus- tained for twelve successive nights. Nothing could exceed the delight which her singing and acting created. She also performed in I Puritanic and was announced to appear in many other operas, which were abruptly forbidden by the po- lice authorities. She was treated with the greatest respect and attention by the most exclusive circles in Rome, as much on account of her irreproachable personal character as through admiration for her talents. She was honored with the dijolo- ma of the " Accademia di Santa Cecilia," one of the oldest and most respected musical societies in Italy. From Rome she returned to London, where, during the season of 1851, she was the star of the concert-room in Lon- 'lon, and of the performances of the Sacred Harmonic Society, where she sang in the oratorios of Handel, Haydn, and Men- delssohn. May, 1851, she sang at the Philharmonic Concerts, Liverpool ; and in June she was at Cork. She was more suit- ed for the concert-room than for the stage, and her ballad-sing- ing Avas incomparable ; indeed, in the execution of the ballads of her native land she was not to be surpassed. She threw her whole soul into them with an ardor which seemed to English ears somewhat exaggerated ; and through her magic- al interpretation of their national airs, she exercised an extra- ordinary spell over the feelings of her Irish audiences : since the days of Catharine Stephens, no vocalist had ever given ballads as Catharine Hayes gave them. In July and August Miss Hayes visited Trouville and Havre, then returned to England to sing at concerts in Manchester and Liverpool. Her final appearance in England for many years was at the Theatre Royal, Liverpool. CATUARINE HAYES. 435 She tlieii commenced one of the most singular journeys round the world ever undertaken by artiste. She left Liver- pool in September, with Mr. Augustus Braham and Herr Men- ghis, for New York. Her commencement at New York was threatened with failure, in consequence of inefficient manage- ment ; but, fortunately, Mr. W. Evory Bushnell, a famous electioneering agent, seeing what might be done, boldly pro- posed to rescue her, and volunteered to carry her triumphant- ly through the length and breadth of the Union. She accord- ingly, by his advice, forfeited £3000, and j^ermitted him to undertake the management of her tour. December, 1851, she was at Philadelphia; she arrived at San Francisco November, 1852, and was singing at California in 1853. Her success in this region was marvelous: fabulous sums were paid for the choice of seats, and one ticket sold for 81150. She then departed for South America, and, after vis- iting the principal cities, embarked for the Gold-fields of Aus- tralia. She gave concerts in the Sandwich Islands, and arrived in Sydney, January, 1854. From Sydney she went to Mel- bourne and Adelaide. At Melbourne she became such a fa- vorite, that when she announced her departure, a petition, most numerously signed, was presented to her, begging her to continue her performances for some time. From Adelaide she went to India, giving concerts in Calcutta and Singapore. March, 1855, she gave, in aid of the Patriotic Fund, a concert which realized upward of £200. She then went to Bntavia, and in the capital of Java she created an immense sensation. From thence she turned her steps to Port Philip, revisited Melbourne and Sydney, appeared at the Bendigo Gold-fields, and sang at Ilobart Town and Launceston. She then re-em- barked for England in the lloyal Charter, arriving at Liver- pool, August, 1856, after an absence of five years, and in Oc- tober she was married to Mr. Bushnell (the manager of her tour), at St. George's, Hanover Square. Catharine Hayes (for she retained her maiden name in pub- lic) continued to sing at concerts, her voice having gained in power and lost nothing in sweetness during her lengthened absence. After fulfilling an engagement with M. Jullicn, Mrs. Bushnell went on provincial tours, and visited the south of France and Spain, whither her husband had been ordered by his physicians for his health. Mr. Bushnell was the victim of 436 QUEENS OF SONG. an hereditary malady, and they fixed their residence at Biar- ritz, hoping that the mild climate would completely restore him: he died, however, July 3, and his widow returned to England, occupying herself professionally in singing at con- certs in London and the provinces. On Sunday, August 11, 1861, she died at Sydenham, in the zenith of her fame. In private life she had been a most amia- ble, kind-hearted Irishwoman, ever ready to assist the distress- ed ; by her friends she was idolized ; by the public she was re- spected for the purity of her life, and admired for her talents. She left property to the value of £16,000, and bequeathed leg- acies to her relatives and friends. .y il MADAME MARIETTA ALBONt. MARIETTA ALBONI. CHAPTER XXXIII. MARIETTA AXBONI. Marietta Alboni was born at Cesena, a little town of the Romagua, on the 10th of 3Iavch, 1822. Her father, one of a most respectable Italian family, was a captain in the customs department of Cesena, and he bestowed on all his children a very good education. Marietta, evincing a taste for music, be- sides a faculty for acquiring languages, Avas placed with Signor Bagioli, a music-teacher of her native town, who took such care of her that at eleven she could read music at sight. Hav- ing studied solfeggio with Bagioli, Marietta was sent to Bo- locrna to take lessons from Madame Bertolotti. She had the . good fortune at the same time to receive instructions from \ Rossini, and the great maestro had a very clear idea of her fu- \ ture. Some one asked his o2')inion of her talents. " At pres- ent," he is reported to have answered, " her voice is like that I of an itinerant ballad-singer, but the town will be at her feet^ before she is a year older." Shortly afterward Morelli, director of many theatrical agen- cies in Italy and Germany, engaged her for the Teatro Com- munale of Bologna, and she appeared there as Mafleo Orsini, in Litcrezia Borgia^ in 1842. She Avas then transferred to La Scala, Avhere she performed in Donizetti's Favorita. Rossini himself signed her two first engagements. "I am," said he, " a subscribing witness to your union Avith renoAvn. May suc- cess and happiness attend the union." Her success was attest- ed by the fact that the manager of La Scala renewed lier eii- gao'ement for foar successive seasons. From Milan Marietta proceeded to Vienna, where she Avon fresh laurels, being the prima donna for three years. She then repaired to St. Petersburg, where she sang for tAVO seasons ; returning thence to Vienna, she traveled through Holland, giv- ing concerts. She sang also in Berlin. "When she arrived in that city, she was asked if she had Avaited on M ? " Xo," she replied. " Who is this M ?" " Oh," answered her 440 QUEENS OF SONG. friend, " he is the most influential journalist in Prussia." " Well, how does this concern me ?" " Why," rejoined the other, " if you do not contrive to insure his favorable report, you are ru- ined." The young Italian drew herself up disdainfully. " In- deed !" she said, coldly ; " well, let it he as heaven directs ; but I wish it to be understood that in viy breast the woman is su- perior to the artist, and, though failure were the result, I would never degrade myself by purchasing success at so humiliating a price." The anecdote was repeated in the fashionable sa- loons of Berlin, and, so far from injuring her, the noble senti- ment of the young debutante was appreciated. The king in- vited her to sing at his court, where she received the well- merited applause of an admiring audience ; and afterward his majesty bestowed more tangible evidences of his approbation. At the commencement of the summer of 1846 Marietta was singing at Dresden, in II Barbiere, with Tsitatschek, and early in 1847 she sang at Rome. Mr. Beale having heard her at Milan, and being charmed with her voice, consulted Signor Costa, and offered her an op- portunity of being heard in England. She was engaged in ^ 1847 at the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden. Unherald- / ed by the trumpet of fame, and almost unknown, she appeared under most disadvantageous circumstances. It was the sea- son when the " Lind mania" was at its height, and the blaze of the Swedish Nightingale's popularity threatened extinction to any star which might come too near her. Nevertheless, one night Alboni appeared on the stage, and in the morning found herself famous. She appeared on Tuesday, April 6, as Arsace, in Semira- mide^ with Madame Grisi and Tamburini; and the success she achieved then she never' lost. The audience were as- tounded at the wonderful sweetness and capacity of her or- gan. In place of a timid debutante, they found before them a highly-finished vocalist, unrivaled since the days of Pisaroni; and when she poured out her voice in a grand volume of rich melody, the crowded house was electrified. In the magnifi- cent duet, " Giorno d'Orrore," her tones rose with a luscious power which was responded to by thunders of applause. To her we are indebted for that beautiful air, "In si barbara," liitherto suppressed for want of a contralto of sufficient com- pass to give it full effect. MARIETTA ALBONI. 441 Her voice was a superb contralto, yet embracing almost three octaves, from E flat to C sharp : its tones were rich, full, sonorous, mellow, liquid ; in truth, the vocabulary of epithets might be exhausted in a vain endeavor to convey an idea of its beauty. Its quality throughout was equally pure, beau- tiful, flexible, and sympathetic. Her articulation was clear- her notes came, even in the most difiicult and rapid passages, with the fluency and precision of a well-played instrument. The purity of her intonation was absolutely faultless ; the ra- pidity and certainty of her execution no one can imagine who has not heard her. Her style and method were models of perfection, her taste was refined, her skill consummate. She displayed the utmost reverence for the ideas of the composer whose works she interpreted ; and even in the music of Ros- sini she did not interpolate a note. But her singular ease was the greatest matter of wonder : she smiled as she ran over the most intricate scales ; and her singing enchanted the connois- seur as much as the merest amateur. Yet it gave the hearer the idea of being purely spontaneous, not acquired by art or labor. In person she was large, and "frankly inclined to embon- point ;" yet albeit portly, she was exceedingly feminine in as- pect. Her figure was symmetrical, graceful, and command- ing ; her features, without pretensions to regular beauty, were highly agreeable, and full of vivacity and kindliness. Her physiognomy was genial ; her eyes, when lighted by the pas- sion of her part, flashed with extraordinary brilliancy; her smile was "bewitching;" and when she laughed, she not only revealed the Avhitest teeth, but her laugh was so infectious, it was impossible to resist echoing her gayety. She was not a tragedian, like Pasta or Grisi; on the contrary, she was always a little cold as an actress, and her manner indolent and ajja- thetic, though her " stage deportment" was not without grace. Her resplendent voice, however, sufticcd to redeem any per- sonal imperfections ; and although at first some critics were inclined to disparage the young debutante, they acknowledged that an artist of high order had appeared. Mdlle. Alboni went from triumph to triumph. Her ]Mal- •colm, in La Donna del Lago, Avas pronounced unequaled since the time of Pisaroni ; in Orsini she created a furore. As De Gondi (llaria de Rohan) she was admirable ; and as Pippo, T 2 / 442 QUEENS OF SONG. inimitable. She undertook, at very brief notice, to play Per- siani's part in II Barhiere di Seviglia, in consequence of the sudden illness of that popular vocalist ; and at no time was Alboni seen to greater advantage. There was a vivacity and lively humor in her performance which won every heart. M. Duponchel, who, with M. Roqueplan, had succeeded M. Fillet in the management of the Opera in Paris, came to En- gland to offer her an engagement. In October, therefore, the young singer, now a world-wide celebrity, appeared at four concerts in Paris, with Alizard and Barroilhet. The programme of these concerts was not much varied : the cavatina of Ai-- sace, tbe duo of Arsace and Assur, the cavatina of Isabella in JOItaliana in Algieri^ the duo from II Barhiere^ the Brindisi from Lucrezia Borgia — these composed the list of pieces. As in London, Mdlle. Alboni's appearance in Paris was not announced with a flourish of trumpets. "Many persons, art- ists and amateurs," said Fiorentino, " absolutely asked on the morning of her debut. Who is this Alboni? Whence does she come ? What can she do ?" And their interrogatories were answered by some fragments of those trifling and illusory bi- ographies which always accompany young vocalists. There was, however, intense curiosity to hear and see this redoubt- able singer who had held the citadel of the Royal Italian Op- era against the attraction of Jenny Lind, and the theatre was crowded to suffocation by rank, fashion, beauty, and notabili- ties on the night of her first concert, October 9. When she stepped quietly on the stage, dressed in black velvet, a brooch of brilliants on her bosom, and her hair cut d la Titus, with a music-paper in her hand, there was just one thunder-clap of ap2:)lause, followed by a silence of some seconds. She had not one acknowledged advocate in the house ; but when Arsace's cavatina, " Ah ! quel giorno," gushed from her lips in a rich stream of melodious sound, the entire audience Avas at her feet, and the critics could not command language sufliciently glow- ing to express their admiration. "What exquisite quality of sound, what purity of intona- tion, what precision in the scales!" cried the Revue et Gazette Musicale. " What finesse in the manner of the breaks of the voice! What amplitude and mastery of voice she exhibits in the Brindisi ; what incomparable clearness and accuracy in the air from B'ltaliana, and the duo from II Barhiere! There MARIETTA ALBONI. 443 is no instrument capable of reuderiug with more certain and more faultless intonation the groups of rapid notes which Ros- sini wrote, and which Alboni sings with the same facility and the same celerity. The only fault the critic has in his power to charge the' wondrous artiste with is, that when she repeats a mor9eau, we hear exactly the same traits, the same turns, the same fioriture, which was never the case with Malibran or Cinti Damoreau." " This vocal scale," says Scudo, speaking of her voice, " is divided into three parts or registers, which follow in complete | order. The first register commences at F in the base, and i reaches F in the medium. This is the true body of the voice, ] whose admirable timbre characterizes and colors all the rest. The second extends from G in the medium to F on the fifth line; and the upper part, which forms the third register, is no more than an elegant superfluity of Nature. It is necessary next to understand with what incredible skill the artiste man- ages this instrument ; it is the pearly, light, and florid vocali- zation of Persian! joined to the resonance, pomp, and ampli- tude of Pisaroni. No words can convey an idea of the ex- quisite purity of this voice, always mellow, always equable, which vibrates without eflbrt, and each note of which expands itself like the bud of a rose — sheds a balm on the ear, as some exquisite fruit perfumes the palate. No scream, no aflected dramatic contortion of sound attacks the sense of hearing, un- der the pretense of softening the feelings." "But that which we admire above all in the artiste," ob- serves Fiorentino, " is the pervading soul, the sentiment, the perfect taste, the inimitable method. Then Avhat body in the voice! What largeness! What simplicity of style! What fa- cility of vocalization ! What genius in the contrasts ! What color in the phrases ! What charm ! What expression ! Mdlle. Alboni sings as she smiles — without eflbrt, without fatigue, without audible and broken respiration. Here is art in its fidtitity ! here is the model and example whicE'every one who would become an artiste should copy "It is such a pleasure to hear real singing!" says Hector Berlioz. " It is so rare ; and voices at once beautiful, natural, . expressive, flexible, and in tune, are so very uncommon ! The W'oice of STdlle. Alboni possesses these excellent quaTlties in the highest degree of perfection. It is a magnificent contralto oi' 444 QUEENS OF SONG. immense range (two octaves and six notes — nearly three oc- taves — from low E to C in alt), the quality perfect through- out, even in the lowest notes of the lower register, which are generally so disastrous to the majority of singers who fancy they possess a contralto, and the emission of wMch resembles nearly always a rattle, hideous in such cases, and revolting to the ear. Mdlle. Alboni's vocalization is wonderfully easy ; few sopranos exhibit equal facility. The registers of her voice are so perfectly united, that in her scales you do not feel sensible of the passage from one to the other ; the tone is wicticous, caressing, velvety, melancholy, like that of ail contraltos, though less sombre than that of Pisaroni, and incomj^arably more pure and limpid. As the notes are produced without effort, the voice yields itself to every shade of intensity, and thus Mdlle."" Alboni can sing from the most mysterious piano to the most brilliant forte. And this alone is what I c*all singing* hxmianlyj "that is to say, in a fashion that declares the presence of a hu- man heart, of a human soul, of a human intelligence. Singers^ not possessed of these indispensable qualities should, in my opinion, be ranged under the category of mechanical instru- ments. Mdlle. Alboni is an artiste entirely devoted to her art, and has not, up to this moment, been tempted to make a trade of it; she has never hitherto given a thought to what her de- licious notes — precious pearls, which she lavishes with such happy bounty — might bring her per annum. Different from the majority of her contemporary singers, money questions are the last with which she occupies herself: her demands have hitherto been extremely modest. Added to this, the sincerity and trustworthiness of her character, which amounts almost to singularity, are acknowledged by all who have any dealings with her." The first night of Mdlle. Alboni's appearance some of the boxes were not filled ; on the succeeding nights there was not a place to be had. "Two theatres as large as the Opera might have been easily crammed." At the last, more than a thou- sand persons were refused admission. The excitement was ex- traordinary. Alboni surj^assed herself, and was almost smoth- ered with roses and camellias, and deafened with applause ; the stage was literally transformed into a flower-garden Avith the profusion of bouquets. / The morning after her second appearance, she was seated MARIETTA ALBONI. 445 quietly in her hotel on the Boulevard des Italiens, reading the feuilletons of Berlioz and Fiorentino in the Journal des Debats and Le Constitutionnel with a kind of childish delight, entire- ly unconscious, apparently, that she was the sole theme of con- versation in all Parisian circles. A friend came in, when she asked, " in the most unaffected tone of sincerity," whether she had sung " assez bien" on Monday night, and broke into a fit of merry laughter at the answer : " Trus bien pour une petite fille." " Alboni," writes this friend, " is assuredly, for a great artiste, the most unpretending and simple creature in the world. She has not the slightest notion of her position in her art in the eyes of the public and the musical world." It was said that M. Vatel, manager of the Italiens, was driven nearly frantic at her unprecedented success; for, by the advice of Lablache, he had declined to engage her, al- though he might have done so at no great sacrifice. On the termination of the four concerts, Alboni went to Pesth, and then returned to Vienna, At Pesth she performed Orsini in Lucrezia Borgia., and De Gondi in Maria de JRohan, and gave a concert besides. At Vienna she gave a concert on the 20th of November, in the Theater an der Wien, and ob- tained " a prodigious success." From Vienna she returned to Paris. She made her debut as Arsace, in Semiramide, Thurs- day, December 2, with Madame Grisi, Coletti, Cellini, and Tagliafico. The theatre was crowded with fashionable, literary, and art- istic celebrities, princes, ministers of state, dilettanti, and wom- en of fashion and wit. A subdued murmur circled round the house ; some prognosticated a triumphant success, others a partial one — if not a complete failure; and a universal buzz of whispers betrayed the lively interest felt by the audience. The curtain rose. Grisi came on, and was received with a burst of applause. At length a sudden and unbroken silence fell on the assembly; the orchestra played the long sj'mphony which preludes the contralto air, " Eccorai alfin in Babilonia," and, with a tranquil step, Alboni issued from the side-scenes, and slowly walked up to the foot-lights. "There was a sudden pause," says one who was present ; " a feather might almost have been heard to move. The orchestra, the symphony fin- ished, refrained from proceeding, as though to give time for the enthusiastic reception which was Alboni's right, and which \ \ 446 QUEENS OP SONG. it was natural to suppose Alboni would receive. But you may imagine my surprise and the feelings of the renowned contral- to when not a hand or a voice was raised to acknowledge her ! I could see Alboni tremble, but it was only for an instant. What was the reason of this unanimous disdain or this unani- mous doubt? call it what you will. She might perhaps guess, but she did not sufier it to perplex her for more than a few moments. Throwing aside the extreme diffidence that marked her entree, and the perturbation that resulted from the frigid- j ity of the spectators, she wound herself up to the condition of I fearless independence for which she is constitutionally and / morally remarkable, and with a look of superb indifference and I conscious power she commenced the opening of her aria. In / one minute the crowd, that but an instant before seemed to ( disdain her, was at her feet ! The effect of those luscious tones had never yet failed to touch the heart and rouse the ardor of an audience, educated or uneducated." Alboni's triumph was instantaneous and complete ; it was the greater from the mo- ment of anxious uncertainty that preceded it, and made the certainty which succeeded more welcome and delightful. From this instant to the end of the opera Alboni's success grew into a triumph. During the first act she was twice recalled ; dur- ing the second act, thrice ; and she was encored in the air " In si barbara," which she delivered with pathos, and in the caba- letta of the second duet with Semiramide. She next performed in ia Cenerentola •with the same suc- cess. In 1848 Mdlle. Alboni again appeared before an English audience at Covent Garden, at a salary of £4000. She com- menced with Tancredi, Madame Persiani being the Amenaide. She was, if possible, more captivating than ever, and her voice seemed to have gathered power and volume. Her natural ease and freedom from mannerisms were enchanting; it was only to be regretted that she had not more dramatic energy. The chief event of the season was hjer performance in ia Cenerentola in March. She also performed in A?ina J^olena Avith Madame Grisi, Tamburini, Tagliafico, and Mai'io ; and (in July) in GU Ugonotti with Madame Viardot and the afore- said signori ; then in La Gazza Ladra. In the autumn she returned to Paris, when her success was as brilliant as before. In 1849, on the retirement of Jenny Lind, Mdlle. Alboni be- MAEIEITA ALBONI. 447 came the prima donna of Her Majesty's Theatre, performing with Calzolari, a young tenor of great excellence, Lablache, Colletti, Moriani, and llouconi. She performed the parts of Rosina, Niuetta, Zerlina in Don Giovcmni, and Norina in Don Pasquale^ astonishing the public by the facility with which slie sang music so oi^poscd to her own genre; but it was regretted that the superb contralto had quitted her proper realm. In March she abruptly disappeared. Before leaving Paris she had promised to sing at the annual concert of poor old Filippo Galli, and her name was announced in the bills for Friday, the 23d of March. In the hurry of her departure, she had omitted to warn him that she would not be able to return before the very hour at which the concert was to begin ; and the suspense and anxiety of the imfortunate Filipi:)0 were to be more easily imagined than described when, asked if Alboni would sing, he could not answer definitively — " Perhaps yes, perhaps no." He sold very few tickets, and the rooms (in the Salle Herz) were thinly occupied. She, however, had not for- gotten her promise: at the very moment when the matinee was commencing she arrived, in time to redeem her word, and reward those who had attended, but too late to be of any serv- ice to the veteran. Galli was in despair, and was buried in reflections neither exhilarating nor profitable, Avhen, some min- utes after the concert, the comely face and portly figure of Al- boni appeared at the door of his room. " How much are the expenses of your concert ?" she kindly inquired, " Mia cara," dolorously responded the beneficiaire, "cinque ccnti franci (500 francs)." "Well, then, to repair the loss that I may have caused you," said the generous cantatrice, " here is a bank- note for a thousand francs. Do me the favor to accept it." This was only one of the many kind actions she performed. From Paris she went to Italy, where she was called by fam- ily affairs, and then she returned to England to resume her en- gagement. The autumn found her again at the Theatre Ital- ien, performing in La Cenerentola, etc., with Lablache, Bordas, and Ronconi, director of the establishment. In April, 1850, after a tour of unprecedented brilliancy in the provinces of France, Mdlle. Alboni returned to Paris "with new laurels and rolls of bank-notes." The principal operas in which she performed during her trip were La Favorita and 448 QUEENS OF SONG. La Reine de Ghypre. Her success had been so great that the directors of the Graud Opera (Theatre de la Nation) immedi- ately engaged her for sixteen representations of Madame Vi- ardot's great character of Fides in Le ProphUe. She com- menced in May. To attempt this part was regarded as an act of singular daring ; but, as Madame de Stael observes, " there is nothing so successful as success." Meyerbeer himself not only offered no objection, but, being present at the first per- formance, went behind the scenes, and warmly congratulated her on her triumph. From Paris Mdlle. Alboni went to Mad- rid, where she sang in La Favorita and La Sonnamhula with Madame Frezzolini, Gardoni, Herr Formes, and Ronconi. In September she reappeared at the Theatre Italien in La Favo- rita, and was received with overwhelming enthusiasm. She Returned soon after to Madrid. The following May she quitted Madrid and returned to Par- is, when Auber's Corheille cV Oranges, written for her, was pro- duced. Although the character of ZerHna was a charming one, it did not suit her ; and having sung this pai-t for two months, she came to London, returning to Paris in September. De- cember, 1851, she commenced a course of representations and concerts in the provinces in England. In 1852 Mdlle. Alboni paid a visit to the United States, where she was enthusiastically received. If she did not raise the furore which Jenny Lind had created, she was none the less admired, and her departure on the conclusion of her tour was universally regretted. She gave her farewell concert in New York at the Metropolitan Hall on the 2d of May. The hall was crowded in every corner, and the applause was vehe- ment, regret for her departure being loudly expressed. This concert was for the benefit of Signor Arditi, who had been the conductor of her performances during her sojourn in America. In July, 1853, Marietta Alboni married the Comte de Pe- poli at Paris, and it was rumored that she was about to with- draw from the stage ; but she efiectually disproved this by ap- pearing, in 1854, in Paris, performing in La Donna del Lago and others of Rossini's operas. In the spring of 1855 she was performing in Barcelona, from whence she came direct to En- gland. On her appearance before her London admirers, the reputation of her youth was revived, and her popularity was undiminished. In May she went with Ernst and other artistes MAEIETTA ALBONI. 449 on a pi'ovincial tour, under the management of Mr. Beale, re- turning then to London. In July, 1855, slie was at the Grand Opera in Paris, per- forming in Le Prophtte^ etc., with lloger, having contracted an engagement for three years. In 1856 she was at Her Maj- esty's Theatre with Piccoloraini, and made her first appear- ance in the character of Azucena in II Trovatore. Her per- formances were not confined to the Opera House ; she sang at the Crystal Palace and in the Surrey Music Hall. In October she was again at the Italiens, commencing with La Ceneren- tola. She then, in conjunction with Mario, Graziani, and Ma- dame Frezzolini, began performing in the works of Verdi. II Trovatore was performed in January, 1857, and was followed by Higoletto, which was produced in defiance of the protesta- tions of Victor Hugo, from Avhose play, Le Hoi s'amuse, the libretto had been taken. Victor Hugo declared that the rep- resentation of the opera was an infringement of his rights, as being simply a piracy of his drama, and he claimed that the Theatre Italien should be restrained from performing it. The decision of the court was, however, against the irascible poet, and he had to pay the costs of the action. The winter of 1857 was passed by Madame Alboni in Mad- rid. In the spring of 1858 she was singing at the Theatre Italien of Paris. Among the operas in which she performed during the London season of 1858 was Luisa MiUer. In or- der to render the ensemble as perfect as possible, she under- took, with real artistic feeling, a minor character — the Duchess. After a lapse of some years, too, she resumed her original part of Matfeo Orsini. She also appeared with Mdlle. Tietjens, the new prima donna, in II Trovatore. In 1859 Madame Alboni was again at the Italian Opera, Paris, performing Isabella in IJItaliana in Alffieri, etc. No living singer is more thoroughly imbued with the traditions of the school to which she belongs. II Giuramento, disinterred the preceding season for the gratification of the dilettanti, was reproduced, Alboni, Madame Penco, and Graziani being its chief support. In 1860, after an absence of two years, Madame Alboni re- appeared. May 19, at Her Majesty's Theatre, as Maffeo Orsini. In 1861, Verdi's Ballo in Maschera was brought out at the Theatre Italien, Mesdames Alboni, Battu, and Penco, Signori 29 450 QUEENS OP SONG. Mario and Graziani, forming the cast. In the summer Ma- dame Alboni imdertook a musical tour through England. In the present season, 1863, she is a member of the powerful com- pany of Her Majesty's Theatre. In private life Alboni is amiable, gay, generous — full of that charmins: insouciance which characterizes the Italian artiste. She is perfectly good-humored, Avith the simplicity of a child ; and whenever her immense success caused the envy of her ri- vals, she was the first to laugh and disarm jealousy by some bon mot. She is distinguished, moreover, by many eccentric- ities, and for the independence of her disposition. She bought a very fine hotel at the Cours de la Heine, richly furnished, and installed therein her sisters and brothers. Her brothers were among the bravest soldiers of the band of Garibaldi. ANGIOLINA BOSIO. 451 CHAPTER XXXIV. ANGIOLINA BOSIO. Angiolina Bosio belonged to a family of Italian artists who have cultivated with much credit music and the drama. She was born at Turin, August 22, 1830, and educated at Milan, her singing-master being the excellent teacher Cataneo. The imj^resario Barocchi, divining her budding talent, oftered her a modest engagement, and at the age of sixteen she made her debut, July, 1846, at the Teatro Re, Milan, in I Due Foscari. After a brief engagement she went to Verona, where she con- firmed the best hojoes of her friends, and excited great interest among the frequenters of the opera. Slie then suddenly ap- peared in Copenhagen, where she was applauded and caressed : so popular did she become, indeed, that no effort was spared to retain her for six years ; but the climate was not suited to her, and she was obliged to leave the country. Her farewell is described as something extraordinary. She was next en- gaged at the Circo Theatre, in Madrid, and created an im- mense enthusiasm among the Spaniards, the director of the theatre being compelled, by the universal voice, to engage her for the season following. In 1848, Angiolina appeared in Par- is, at the Theatre Italien, in I Due Foscari, etc., Avith Bordas and Morelli, but did not create even a passing remark. She went immediately to Havana as a member of Marti's troupe, going thence to New York, Philadelpliia, and Boston. She was ardently admired by the Americans. She returned to Europe in 1851, and shortly after married a Greek gentleman, named Xinda Velonis, She was engaged for the season of 1852 by Mr. Gye, for the Royal Italian Opera, and on Tuesday, June 15, 1852, Madame Bosio made her de- but in the opera of FFlisir cVAinore. She did not create by any means a favorable impression ; her voice a2'>peared "worn," and her intonation sharp. She walked the stage with ease, but beyond this did not display any talent as an actress, and she was pronounced to be "a good second-rate singer, nothing 452 QUEENS OF SONG. more ;" but for the Dulcamara of Ronconi, the opera would have proved a failure. The public remembered how Madame Persian!, Mdlle. Lind, Madame Viardot, even Madame Castel- lan, had treated the light and brilliant character of the coquet- tish Adina. Her next appearance was in Eryiani^ when it was admitted that she was certainly a tolerable singer — a pretty good substitute in case of necessity. Accident, however, revealed her genius. On the conclusion of the season, three extra performances were given at reduced prices. M. Jullien's Pietro il Grande, produced the same year, was announced, but the illness of Tamberlik compelled the manager to substitute I Puritani, and Madame Grisi having declined to sing, Bosio was requested to undertake the part of Elvira : feeling sure of success, she did not hesitate. " Madame Bosio was extremely nervous in the first scene," says one who was present. " The duet with Giorgio was in- effective throughout ; the polacca created no impression. The curtain fell on the first act with scarcely a hand of applause. Many left the house. The audience were listless and apathet- ic ; still they were not unkind, and listened, when, under other circumstances, they would have expressed dissatisfaction. The curtain rose on the second act, and when Elvira came on in the mad scene, and commenced the favorite cavatina 'Qui la voce,' the audience were strangely inattentive. Perhaps their indif- ference inspired the singer with determination ; perhaps from her very fear there grew a courage. Whatever the cause, Ma- dame Bosio began to sing in reality, and the slow movement was followed by ' bravas' from all parts of the house. Now came the artiste's revenge. The cabaletta literally took the house by storm, and created an immense furore. A more sud- den and enthusiastic sensation was never witnessed. Madame Bosio was encored with acclamations, and recalled several times ; and, what was more to the purpose, her singing indi- cated no falling off in the third act. This performance was in reality the turning-point of Madame Bosio's fortune." Her success was talked of with wonder in all fashionable and musical circles ; and Mr. Gye immediately engaged her for three years. Madame Bosio was the prima donna of that winter in Paris. She took the leading part when Verdi's Luisa Miller was pro- duced at the Grand Opera. She then appeared in II BarUere ANGIOLINA BOSIO. 453 cU Seviglla — a very diflferent work. She also sang six times successively in Rossini's fine but tiresome opera, Mos^ in Egit- to. She also appeared at the Theatre Italien, in Rossini's Ma- tilda di Shabran^ au opera in which she was seen to great ad- vantage. In the jjrogramme of the Royal Italian Opera for 1853, Ma- dame Bosio was announced to sustain the principal characters in three new operas — Rossini's JSIatilda di Shahran, Verdi's Migoletto, and Spohr's Jessonda. She appeared first in II Bar- Mere, then as Adina {L'Ellsir d^Ai7iore) with Ronconi and Lu- chesi, a new tenor. Migoletto was produced for the first time in England May 14. None of Verdi's works, with the exception oi Eriiani^ had gained such a reputation, and, at the time of its produc- tion in England, it Avas being performed at twenty or thirty theatres on the Continent. It was regarded by Verdi himself as his chef-d'oeuvre. It created great interest and curiosity among the patrons of the Royal Italian Opera ; the story be- ing dramatic and full of bustle, the characters striking and well colored, the scenic effects superb, the dresses and deco- rations costly and magnificent, it naturally, therefore, created a furore. Mesdames Bosio and Nantier Didiee, Signori Ma- rio, Ronconi, Tagliafico, and Polonini, constituted the cast. Madame Bosio surpassed herself, and carried off" the suffrages of even those who had previously refused to acknowledge her talent. Her impersonation of Gilda was so exquisite as to re- move any doubt of her title to be considered a, performer of the first class. She also appeared as Marguerite de Valois in Gli Ugonotti, the new prima donna, Madame Julienne, being indisposed. Her voice, a high, silvery soprano, was of the finest timbre, limpid, flexible, vibrating, and of great extent. She had a perfect method, and irreproachable good taste ; and she was one of the most finished vocalists of her time. She had dra- matic feeling as profound as truthful ; but her style, original, yet tempered by judgment, never reached the expression of passion. She could not divest herself completely of her indi- viduality, nor abandon herself to the emotions of the charac- ter ; but she possessed a subtle intellectual charm, indefinable, yet impossible to resist. She belonged to the school of sing- ers who, Avhile shining equally in the works of Mozart, Rossi- 454 QUEENS OF SONG. ni, Bellini, Donizetti, even of Verdi and Mercadante, yet pre- serve the traditions of the fine school of Italian sinsjinsc. She was, above all, supereminently graceful in her person, deport- ment, and acting. She was by no means handsome ; her fea- , tures were irregular and ill formed, yet on the stage she look- j ed a most beautiful woman. In May, 1854, Madame Bosio reappeared in II Barhiere^ with Mario, Tagliafico, Ronconi, and Lablache. The critics had now no words sufficiently glowing to express their admi- ration: she was charming — exquisitely delightful. She per- formed in I Puritani during this season ; and with the excep- tion, always, of Grisi, she was the best Elvira ever seen. There was a fluent ease in her performance of the most difficult and trying passages which was perfectly captivating. Rossini's Matilda di Shcd)ran^ promised the preceding year, was also produced. Madame Bosio was an admirable Matilda ; and if she had not the exhaustless variety in ornament possessed by Madame Persiani, she was yet fully capable of executing flu- ently the most light and florid music. Her voice was invaria- bly pure, true, and deliciously sweet ; her style most finished, and she seemed to improve every day. She never appeared in a part which suited her more admirably than Matilda, and in it she sealed her reputation as a florid soprano singer of the highest class. The music of this opera, though composed in haste by Rossini (in ten days, it is said, for the Carnival at Rome in 1821), is brilliant and spirited, if careless and irregu- lar; but the plot is very stupid. May 11th, Madame Bosio appeared with Sophie Cruvelli, Mdlle, Marai, Ronconi the in- imitable, Lablache, Tamberlik, Tagliafico, etc., in Mozart's Don Giovanni. She was a most captivating Zerlina — sweet, inter- esting, and elegant. She performed also in JOJElisir d'' Amove with Ronconi. She sang in IlBarhiere, June 26th, when Ma- rio, as the Count, made his first ajDpearance for the season, and Lablache, as Bartolo, his first appearance at the Royal Italian Opera, Ronconi being the Figaro. As Rosina, Madame Bosio was " charming," her acting being graceful and animated, and her singing, though deficient in power, exquisitely sweet and full of expression. In Migoletto, Madame Bosio rei^resented Gilda with increased reputation both as an actress and singer. In BjigoMto^ Signer Ronconi had a part which brought out all his versatile talents and high artistic powers. ANGIOLINA BOSIO. 455 Dni-ing the winter of 1854 Madame Bosio performed at the ItaUens, in Paris, then imder the management of Signor Raga- ni, uncle of GiuUa Grisi. The following year she again made her appearance at the Royal Italian Opera in Ernani, with Tamberlik, Tagliafico, etc. The ringing quality of her voice was disjilayed to perfection in this opera. She performed shortly afterward in Le Comte Ory^ with Mdlle. Nantier Didiee, Mdlle. Marai, TagUafico, and Gardoni. As the Contessa she was seen to great advantage, for her best performances were those in which the singing was of more importance than the acting, and in which neither tragic power nor comic humor was needed. JLe Comte Ory is full of lively, luxuriant melo- dies and skillfully constructed harmony, but the plot is absurd and trashy. Of all modern soprani, Madame Bosio most un- derstood and appreciated the music of Rossini ; and instead of regarding the melodies of the great maestro as simply themes for the purpose of displaying the richness of her own fancy, she sang them conscientiously and with due deference. She sang at the Festival at Norwich with Clara Novello, Lablache, Gardoni, Sims Reeves, and others, receiving £300 for four days. This year Madame Bosio accepted an engagement at St. Petersburg. The terms were 100,000 francs for four months, and a guaranteed benefit of 15,000 francs more, with permis- sion to sing at private soirees and concerts. Her success in St. Petersbm-g was extraordinary. The Theatre Italien of that city has been, for many years, one of the most brilliant in Eu- rope. From the time of Catharine II. composers and Italian vocalists have been cordially welcomed at the court of Russia, and largely remunerated. Cimarosa, Paisiello, Sarti, Boiel- dieu, and Adolphe Adam have written operas and ballets for the Theatre Italien and the Theatre Fran9ais of that capital ; Rubini spent the last six years of his professional career in the empire of the Czar ; and Lablache, and many other great ar- tistes, found themselves richly repaid for daring the rigors of the climate. After a delay of some months, caused by the illness of Ma- dame Bosio, HEtoile du A^on? was produced, January 4, 1856, at the Italian Theatre, St. Petersburg. Signor de Bassini was Peter the Great ; Calzolari, Danilowitz; Bettini, Ismailoflf ; La- blache, Gritzenko ; Mdlle. Marai, Prascovie ; Mesdames Rossi 456 QUEENS OF SONG. and Tagliafico, the Vivandieres, and Madame Bosio, Catavina. The action of the piece was altered: to suit the prejudices of his imperial majesty, the characters were changed, and the scene was transferred to Dalecarlia in Sweden, King Eric tak- ing the place of the Czar. So great were the expectations of success, and such the demand for places, that the prices were raised ; yet the house was crowded to suffocation, and the -ope- ra was the most indubitable triumph ever achieved at the Thea- tre Italien. October 1st she appeared in La Traviata. From St. Petersburo- she went to Moscow. In 1856 Madame Bosio (with Signor Mario) rescued the Royal Italian Opera by the brilliancy of her performances at the Lyceum Theatre, whither the Italian company had been removed on the destruction by fire of the establishment in Cov- eut Garden, Never did she sing or act more captivatingly than during this season. Her most remarkable performance was in La Traviata^ which she then appeared in for the first time in England. Her personation of the unhappy Violetta, in almost every respect different from the reading of Mdlle. Piccolomini, was most touchingly beautiful. Having rested at Florence after her labors in Paris, she re- turned to the Lyceum in 1857 with Signor Mario, and apiDcared again in La Traviata with Mario and Tagliafico. Her exqui- sitely refined, bewitching impersonation of the ill-fated Violetta created a singular excitement. Her Zerlina, in Fra Diavolo, was also much admired. The performance ofXrt 7>rty^ffl to, February, 1858, termina- ted the season of the Theatre Italien of St. Petersburg, when Madame Bosio (who sang Avith Calzolari and Bartolini) was received with acclamations ; and, at the end of the first act, a deputation waited upon her in her box to offer her a princely gift — a splendid bouquet formed of three stars surrounded by magnificent turquoises and diamonds. During the evening the public lavished tokens of their admiration on their favorite, and at the termination of the oj^era the greater part of the au- dience escorted her carriage to the door of her hotel. The emperor and empress also made her superb presents. In the May following Madame Bosio made her first appear- ance for the season in La Traviata, with Signor Gardoni, at the new theatre, Covent Garden. She was more brilliant and more admirable than ever during this — alas ! her last — season ANGIOLINA BOSIO. 457 in Loudon, and surpassed all her former efforts. From Lon- don she returned to St. Petersburg, when the Czar nomuiated her premiere cantatrice, and Signor Taraberlik the premier chanteur to their imperial majesties — an entirely exceptional favor. Signor Tamberlik also received the gold medal, sur- rounded with diamonds, suspended to the cordon of St. An- drew, which had been accorded to three artistes only — Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache. Madame Bosio was the first who obtained the honor of being named premiere cantatrice to the imperial court. Suddenly her admirers were startled by the news that An- giolina Bosio was dead. The melancholy intelligence reached England from Paris in April, 1859, and "filled all musical Lon- don with consternation and regret." She had died on the 12th of that month, at St. Petersburg. Always of a delicate and frail constitution, suffering, too, from an affection of the lungs, the rigorous climate of Russia had in all probability hastened her death. Iler loss, a serious one to the lovers of music, was sincerely lamented by the public. So gifted a singer, so ami- able a woman, so elegant an actress, in the prime of life — she was scarcely thirty — in the flush of her powers and repiitation, could not but be regretted by all who had heard her. Her re- mains were transported to the vaults of the cathedral church, April 15, through an immense crowd; the Nevskoi Perspect- ive being so thronged with a dense mass of spectators, from the house of mourning to the church, that it was with diffi- culty the coffin, carried by bearers, could reach its destination. Persons of all classes pressed round Avith garlands, flowers, crowns. It was a troublesome task to clear the stairs and corridors of the house Avherc she had lived, which was invaded by the crowd for an hour before the ceremony. The obsequies took place the following day. The cathe- dral church of Saint Catharine was filled long before the time, though they had been obliged, in consequence of the crowd Avhich besieged it, to admit only those who had tickets. Mem- bers of the corps diplomatique, the highest grades of the ad- ministration and of the army, ladies of rank and fortune, press- ed to pay a last mark of respect to the gifted being whom they had so admired and applauded in her lifetime. The arts, the sciences, and letters delegated their most noble represent- atives ; the pupils of the University and of the schools mixed U 458 QUEENS OF SONG. in the crowd of officers of all ranks and of all regiments, and employes of divers departments. The coffin, covered with crowns and flowers, had, the previous evening, been placed be- fore the choir on an elevated estrade. At eleven o'clock the mass commenced, the requiem of Mozart being sung by the ar- tistes of the German Opera and of the chapel of the cathedral. The comrades of poor Bosio had already left two weeks be- fore she died, or they would have taken part in the ceremony. About half past twelve the funeral cortege began to move, and, leaving the church, proceeded toward the cemetery of Sainte Marie. The crowd was enormous, and it did not di- minish till it reached the gates of the cemetery, where the cor- tege was met by many ladies, weeping and praying. The chor- isters of the Italian Opera sang a funeral chant; and after the prayer of the clergy, the coffin was lowered into the grave, where wreaths and bouquets were flung, and one of the per- sons i^resent then pronounced a funeral oration. "All eyes were full of tears," says the Journal de St. Petershourg. Nev- er, indeed, was songstress more sincerely regretted. r i \jS^ ilAUAME LIND GOLDSCniUDT. JENNTT LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 461 CHAPTER XXXV. JENirr LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. There lived iu the city of Stockholm a quiet, almost humble couple, named Lind ; the husband taught languages, and the wife kept a school for children. They were Protestants, mem- bers of the Lutheran Church. They had two children, a pale, delicate, sickly girl, named Jenny, and a boy named John. Frau Lind had had another girl by her first marriage, but lost her by an early death. Jenny, born October 6, 1821, was a lonely child: her chief consolation was her voice, which she Avas perpetually exercis- ing when at work or at her solitary play. At three years old singing was her ruling passion : every song that she heard she could repeat with fluency and perfect accuracy, and during her frequent illnesses she would solace herself with some favorite melody. Thus she attained her ninth yeai* — a shy, timid, sick- ly child. She then happened to attract the notice of Frau Lundberg, an actress, who heard her sing ; and, struck with her inwc, sil- very tones and correct enunciation, told Jenny's parents of the treasure they possessed, urging them to devote their child to the stage. Jenny's mother, entertaining the common prejudice against theatres, Avas at first horrified by the idea ; but Frau Lundberg succeeded in conquering her dislike, and the good mother at last consented to leave the decision of the matter to her child. The little girl at once declared herself determined to devote herself to all the studies requisite to prepare herself for the stage ; and she was conveyed by the kind actress to Croelius, a music-master well known in Stockholm. This old man became enthusiastic about the abilities of his new pupil, whom he introduced to Count Piicke, manager of the Court Theatre, requesting the count to hear her and to patronize her. Rough in speech and morbid in temjjer, the count was not remarkable for a gentlemanly reserve : he al- ways said exactly what he thought, and his thoughts were not 462 QUEENS OF SONG. invariably of the kindest or most charitable nature. When Jenny was brought before him, he regarded her slight figure with astonishment. " You ask a foolish thing," said he, look- ing disdainfully at the gentle, pale little child, in her simple gown of black bombazine. " What shall we do with that ugly creature ? See what feet she has ! and then her face ! She will never be presentable. No, we can not take her. Certainly not." Nothing daunted, Croelius insisted, almost indignantly, and at last exclaimed, " Well, if you will not take her, I, poor as I am, will take her myself, and have her educated for the stage." The count relented, and condescended to hear the child sing. Already her voice possessed that heart-searching quality by which it afterward exercised so irresistible a spell. The result was that the plain little child was admitted into the school, and placed under the care of an able master, Herr Al- bert Berg, director of the singing -school of the Opera, who was assisted by the composer Lindblad. j Two years later, when Jenny was eleven, at a comedy per- formed by the pupils of the theatre, several of the audience were struck by the spirit and animation with which a very young pupil performed the part of a beggar-girl in the play. This young pupil was Jenny Lind, who then began to appear in children's characters, exciting a sensation similar to that with which Leontine Fay, in her early career, moved all Paris. Vaudevilles were written expressly for her : the truth of her conception, the originality of her style, gained for her the repu- tation of being a prodigy, while the modesty and amiabihty of her demeanor secured for her love and regard. When she was twelve, the sunny aspect of her future was suddenly clouded, and her ambitious hopes crushed, for her voice began to lose somewhat of its silvery tone, and the up- per notes vanished. In vain she tried to recover them. The hope of training her as a singer for the grand opera was there- / fore abandoned. She had outgrown her childish parts with- out becoming qualified for more advanced ones, and was soon forgotten by the public which had once admired her. For- bidden to exercise her voice, the only consolation to the un- happy girl was continuing her instrumental and theoretical musical studies, to which she devoted herself for the space of four years. It happened toward the close of this painful period that a JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 463 grand concert was given at the theatre, and the fourth act of Meyerbeer's Robert le Diahle formed the chief feature of the programme. The part of Alice in that act, consisting of one solo only, was very unpoi^ular among the singers, and Herr Berg, remembering the unlucky Jenny, offered to her the ob- jectionable role. She meekly consented to appear, though with a nervous agitation which threatened to destroy what powers she yet possessed ; and with a heart palpitating with mingled hope and foreboding, she began to study her part. On the evening of the concert, she presented herself almost unnoticed. She was in a state of nervous excitement and trepidation,' though nobody noticed the obscure singer who took the de- spised character of Alice. But when she sang the air allotted to her, it seemed as if a miracle had been wrought in her fa- vor, for every note of her register had recovered its beauty and sweetness. A burst of applause saluted her : every eye was directed toward her, and the young vocalist became the hero- ine of the evening. No one was more astonished than Berg, who the next day informed Jenny that she was considered qualified to undertake the role of Agatha, in Weber's Der Freisckutz. Toward this character the secret ambition of Jenny Lind had long yearned, for it was the one which first awakened her artistic sympathies. To study it deeply had been with her a labor of love, and she looked forward with joy to be able to represent it worthily one day. Her discouragements and dis- appointments were now all forgotten, and the dream of her hopes seemed to be at length realized. At the rehearsal pre- ceding the representation of the evening, she sang in such a manner that the members of the orchestra laid down their in- struments and clapped their hands with rapturous applause. "I saw her at the evening representation," says Fredcrika Bremer. " She was then in the spring of life, fresh, bright, and serene as a morning in May ; perfect in form ; her hands and her arms peculiarly graceful, and lovely in her whole ap- pearance. She seemed to move, speak, and sing without eflbrt or art. All was nature and harmony. Her singing was dis- tinguished especially by its purity, and the power of soul which seemed to swell in her tones. Her ' mezzo voice' was delight- ful. In the night -scene where Agatha, seeing her lover com- ing, breathes out her joy in rapturous song, our young singer, \ \ 464 QUEENS OF SONG. on tuniiuo- from the winclow at the back of the stagre to the spectators again, was pale for joy; and in that pale joyousness she sang Avith a burst of outflowing love and life, that called forth, not the mirth, but the tears of the auditors." Jenny Liud has always regarded the character of Agatha as the keystone of her fame. From the night of this perform- ance she was the declared favorite of the Swedish public, and continued for a year and a half the star of the Opera of Stock- holm, performing in Euryanthe, Robert le Diahle, La Vestale of Spontiui, and other operas. She labored meanwhile with indefatigable industiy to remedy certain natural deficiencies in her voice. Always jDure and melodious in tone, it was orig- inally wanting in elasticity. She could neither hold her notes to any considerable extent, nor increase nor diminish their vol- ume with sufiicient effect; and she could scarcely utter the slightest cadence. But, undaunted by difficulties, she perse- vered, and ultimately achieved that brilliant and facile execu- tion which, it is difficult to believe, was partially denied her by nature. Gradually, however, to the surprise and alarm of the young girl, her voice, overstrained and exhausted, lost somewhat of its freshness. The public, who no longer sought to hear her for the sake of novelty, came no more to the theatre even when she sang delightfully as Pamina {Die Zauheiflote)^ or as Anna'Bolena; in short, the Opera was almost deserted. Jen- ny Lind's voice had need of farther training, and she felt the necessity of higher teaching than she could obtain in her na- tive city. She desired, also, to be enabled to behold those great artistes whom she had heard praised so much ; and her anxious wish was to become the pupil of Garcia, who had formed so many eminent singers. A formidable money diffi- culty presented itself — that stumbling-block which impedes so many artists in pursuit of ideal perfection : the difficulty of defraying the expenses of her journey, and of her residence in France, seemed an insuperable bar to the realization of her wishes. She resolved to trust to her own resources alone; accordingly, during the recess when the Opera was closed, accompanied by her father, she visited the principal towns of Sweden and Norway, giving concerts, and thus amassed a fund adequate to her probable necessities. Having obtained leave of absence from the manager of the Opera in Stockholm, JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 465 and bade fai'ewell to her parents, whose avocations did not permit thera to accompany her, she started alone for Paris, full of enthusiasm for her art, and eagerly anticipating a suc- cessful course of study. Arrived in Paris, her first visit was to Garcia, to whom she presented her letters of introduction. Garcia gave her a kind reception, and listened, Avithout a word or gesture, to her sing- ing. When, fluttered Avith feverish anxiety, she awaited his dictum, he said, calmly, " My good girl, you have no voice ; or, I should rather say, that you had a voice, but are now on the point of losing it. Your organ is strained and worn out ; and the only advice I can offer you is to recommend you not to sing a note for three months. At the end of that time come to me again, and I will do my best for you." Poor Jenny de- parted in the deepest dejection, and passed the three weari- some months in the strictest retirement. "I lived on my tears and on the recollection of my home," she herself said, pathetically. At the expiration of three months of solitude and silence, she paid her second visit to Garcia, who pro- nounced her voice greatly improved, and susceptible of con- tinued culture. Although she profited immensely by the teach- ing of this great master, and composed cadences and ornaments which he himself considered worthy of copying, yet he never anticipated for his young Swedish pupil any particular distinc- tion in the musical world. Jenny Lind has frequently remarked that, next to herself, Garcia was the person who, of all others, would have been most surprised at her triumphs had he lived to witness them. At this period Garcia was teaching a countrywoman of Jenny's, a Mdlle. Nissen, who possessed a very powerful, full- toned voice, but lacked mental abilities. Jenny Lind confess- ed that it often brought her to despair to hear Garcia hold up this lady to her as an example, while she felt that she under- stood more, and was pursuing loftier aims, than would ever be attained by her sister student. Garcia was wont to say, " K Jenny Lind had the voice of Nissen, or the latter Lind's intel- ligence, one of tliem would become the greatest singer in Eu- rope. If Lind had more voice at her disposal, nothing would prevent her from becoming the greatest of modern singers ; but as it is," he would add, " she must be content with sing- ing second to many who will not have half her genius." 30 U 2 466 QUEENS OP SONG. The following year, a Swedisli composer was sent to Paris in order to summon the young singer home to resume her sta- tion at the Opera in Stockholm. By this gentLmau she was introduced to Meyerbeer, and the well-practiced judgment of the composer oiMohert leDiaUe soon recognized the pearl of great price. His only doubt was whether the flutelike jDurity of her delicate organ w'ould be sufficiently telling in a large space. To test this, he arranged a rehearsal with a full or- chestra, in the salon of the Grand Opera, when Jenny Lind sang the three great scenes from Robert le Diahle, Norma^ and Der Freisckiltz. Her success was triumphant ; but, through the jealousy of a jDOwerful prima donna, M.Leon Fillet was dis- suaded from engaging the young Swede. Shortly after, in the spring of 1843, Jenny Lind reappeared in her native city in Robert le Diable, w^here she reaped the rich reward of her persevering efforts. Her voice had ac- quired astonishing flexibility and strength ; she could warble like a nightingale; her tones were fresh, beautiful, and clear; she had become a perfect mistress of her art, and was an excel- lent actress. The good j)eople of Stockholm received her with a rapturous welcome. At this time Jenny Lind was perfectly, unknown out of her native country. Many entreaties had been addressed to her to appear at Copenhagen ; but the idea of making a debut in / that city frightened her : she expressed the greatest dread of f' accepting the ofiers of the Danish manager. "I have never made my appearance out of Sweden," she observed ; " every body in my native land is so affectionate and kind to me, and if I made my appearance in Copenhagen, and should be hissed ! I dare not venture on it!" However, the temptations held out to her, and the entreaties of Burnonville, the ballet-master of Copenhagen, who had married a Swedish friend of Jenny Liud's, at last prevailed over the nervous apprehensions of the young singer, and Jenny made her first ajDpearance in Copen- hagen as Alice, in Robert le Diable. " It was like a new reve- lation in the realms of art," says Andersen {Story of my Life) ; " the youthful fresh voice forced itself into every heart : here reigned truth and nature ; and every thing was full of mean- inor and intelligence. At one concert she sang her Swedish songs. There was something so peculiar in this, so bewitch- ing, people thought nothing about the concert-room ; the pop- I JEXNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 467 ular melodies uttered by a being so purely feminine, and bear- ing the universal stamp of genius, exercised the omnipotent sway — the whole of Copenhagen was in a rapture." Jenny Lind was the first singer to whom the Danish students gave a serenade; torches blazed around the hospitable villa where the serenade was given, and she expressed her thanks by again singing some Swedish airs impromptu. "I saw her hasten into a dark corner and weep for emotion," says Andersen. " ' Yes, yes,' said she, ' I will exert myself; I will endeavor ; I will be better qualified than I now am when I again come to Copenhagen.' " " On the stage," adds Andersen, " she was the great artist who rose above all those around her ; at home, in her own chamber, a sensitive young girl with all the humility and piety of a child. Her appearance in Copenhagen made an epoch in the history of our opera; it showed me art in its sanctity: I had beheld one of its vestals." Jenny Lind was one of the few who regard Art as a sacred vocation. "Speak to her of her art," says Frederika Bremer, " and you will wonder at the expansion of her mind, and will see her countenance beaming with inspiration. Converse then with her of God, and of the holiness of religion, and you will see tears in those innocent eyes : she is great as an artist, but she is still greater in her pure human existence !" " She loves Art with her whole soul," observes Andersen, " and feels her vocation in it. A noble, pious disposition like hers can not be spoiled by homage. On one occasion only did I hear her express her joy in her talent and her self-conscious- ness. It was during her last residence in Copenhagen. Al- most every evening she appeared either in the opera or at con- certs ; every hour was in requisition. She heard of a society, the object of which was to assist unfortunate children, and to take them out of the hands of their parents, by whom they were misused and compelled cither to beg or steal, and to place them in other and better circumstances. Benevolent people subscribed annually a small sum each for their support; nevertheless, the means for this excellent purpose were very limited. 'But have I not still a disengaged evening?' said she; 'let me give a night's performance for the benefit of those jioor children : but we will have double prices !' Such a performance was given, and returned large proceeds. When 468 QUEENS OF SONG. she was informed of this, and that, by this means, a number of poor children Avould be benefited for several years, her coun- tenance beamed, and the tears filled her eyes. ' It is, however, beautiful,' said she, ' that I can sing so.' " From Copenhagen Jenny Lind returned to Stockholm, where she was received most flatteringly by her countrymen, although it was the wish of her admirers and friends that she should re- main in Sweden. But Jenny was desirous of extending her reputation, and she wrote to Meyerbeer, asking him to obtain for her an engagement at Berlin. The kind-hearted composer, who had admired her so much at Paris, and who w^as pleased to be able to show his interest, answered her letter in less than a week, ofiering her the position of second soprano at the The- atre Royal. Jenny accepted it, bade her parents farewell once more, and departed for Berlin in 1843. Her deiDarture was a scene of triumph, and the streets were crowded with thousands of persons to bid her adieu. At Berlin Jenny made no sensation at first. She appeared in secondary characters, Mdlle. Nissen being the prima donna. Adalgisa, in JVbrma, was the best of those with which she was favored. She was noticed very slightly by the critics ; some said she was a tolerable actress, others that she had a culti- vated voice, but no power. She, however, became a favorite with the manager and with her comrades, from her industry, her modesty, her amiability, and good temper. One evening, when she had been at the theatre some four months, there was a large concert given in behalf of some charity. The fourth act oiMohert le Dlahle was announced, and again, by a strange coincidence, the solo of Alice was assigned to Jenny. Again a spell was wrought : she electrified the audience by the man- ner in which she sang the few bars of this despised air. As her notes rang full and clear through the theatre, the wings filled with listeners, and when she ceased, the entranced audi- ence broke into a long and continued tempest of applause. The genius of Jenny Lind was now revealed to the Berlin- ese, and for four months she was their idol. At the end of 1843, M. Belinaye went to Berlin, and, through the medium of Lord Westmoreland, was presented to the young singer, and ofiered her terms from Mr. Lumley ; but no engagement was entered into. In August, 1844, she went to Dresden, Meyerbeer was then JENNY LIND GOLDSC.IMIDT. 469 writing his Camp of Siksia^ and lie offered Jenny Lind the first part, Vielka. She knew nothing then of the German lan- guage ; but two months of application enabled her to speak it with purity. The characters which she sustained during her stay in Dresden were, in addition to Vielka, Norma, Amina, and Maria in La Figlia del Reggimento. At the request of the manager of Stockholm, however, she returned to her native city, to assist at the coronation of the King of Sweden, With each performance her fame extended more widely: throughout all the districts of Germany, and far beyond its bounds, her reputation spread, and the managers of London and Paris vied in strivinfj to win the Northern sonsr- stress. From Stockholm she made a tour through Vienna, Berlin, Copenhagen, and other cities ; in Hamburg a silver laurel-wreath was presented to her on her departure, and her entire journey was a constant succession of triumphs. During tl.>e following summer she was invited to the fetes on the Rhine, given by the King of Prussia in honor of our queen; she also visited Frankfort and Cologne. The Countess of Rossi (Henrietta Sontag) pronounced her to be the first sing- er of her time. From November, 1845, till the end of March, 1846, she ful- filled her engagement for five months at the Theatre Royal, Berlin. She then proceeded to Vienna, where she made her debut as Norma, April 22, in the Theater an der Wicn. The reports which had preceded her, the exaggeration of the so- called Lind -enthusiasts, and the unprecedcntedly high prices of admission, had raised to such a degree the anticipations of the public, that Jenny Lind expressed her doubt of succeed- ing, and declared that, but for having given her word, she would not consent to perform at all. With visible nervous- ness, with the elevation and dignity of a priestess, but yet with a feeling of humbleness, she ascended the Druid altar, and, amid a silence of hushed expectation, commenced to sing. Scarcely had her tones resounded than the whole house burst into one simultaneous cheer, decisive of her success in Vienna. Soon after this she returned to her native city, and then re- appeared in Berlin. She received a liberal offer of an engage- ment with Mr. Bunn, manager of Drury Lane Theatre, and an agreement was signed in presence of Lord Westmoreland (British minister at Berlin) and M. Meyerbeer. M. Belinaye 470 QiCJEEiSrs OF so: just then renewed Mr. Lumley's offers f am. Jenny Lind, being now better acquainted Avith the management of the London theatres, found that she had made a great mistake in consent- ing to make her debut in London at Drury Lane. She there- fore wished to break off her engagement with Mr. Bunn, and volunteered to pay him £2000 on receiving the paper signed by her. Mr. Bunn at first refused ; but the dispute was finally settled February 22, 1848, by his being awarded £2500 dam- ages in a court of justice. So enthusiastic were the people of Berlin, that on the close of her engagement the manager was obliged to re-engage her, at the rate (it is said) of £4000 per annum, with two months of conge. The " enthusiasm" was almost beyond conception. The difficulty of gaining admission into the theatre, even Avhen she had appeared upward of a hundred nights, was so great, that it was found necessary, in order to prevent the practice of jobbing in tickets, which was becoming very prevalent, to issue them according to the following directions, which were put forth by the manager: "Tickets must be applied for on the day preceding that for which they are required, by letter, signed with the applicant's proper and Christian name, pro- fession, and place of abode, and sealed with wax, bearing the writer's initials with his arms. No more than one ticket can be granted to the same person ; and no person is entitled to apply for two consecutive nights of the enchantress's perform- ance." In June, 1846, Mdlle. Lind was i^rincipal vocalist of the Niederheinische Musicfest, held at Aix-la-Chapelle, Mendels- sohn being the conductor. He was delighted with her, and thus expressed his opinion of her: "There will not in a whole century be born another being so largely gifted as Jenny Lind." At this period Jenny Lind received a profusion of offers of engagements. It is said that his majesty the Czar offered her as much as 56,000 francs per month, for five months, making in all about £11,200 sterling — a sum unparalleled in musical history. She appeared the following September at Frankfort, where triumphant success awaited her. The enthusiasm and excite- ment were unprecedented. " Dine where you would," said a correspondent of the Athenceum, "you heard of Jenny Lind — when she was coming — what she would sing — how ranch be JEiraTT LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 471 paid — who had got places — and the like ; so that, what with the exigeant English dilettanti flying at puzzled German land- lords with all manner of Babylonish protestations of disap- pointment and uncertainty, and native High Ponderosities ready to trot in the train of the enchantress where she might please to lead, with here and there a dark-browed Italian pri- ma donna lowering, Medea-like, in the background, and look- ine: da^srers whenever the name ' Questa Linda !' was uttered — nothing, I repeat, can be compared to the universal excitement, save certain passages (' green spots' in the memory of many a dowager Berliner) when enthusiasts rushed to drink Cham- pagne out of Sontag's shoe In Za Figlia del Beggimento^ compared with the exhibitions of her sister songstresses now on the German stage, Mdllc. Liud's personation was like a piece of porcelain beside tawdry daubings on crockery." Mdlle. Lind then reappeared in Vienna, where she was re- ceived with the same enthusiastic delight. She was treated with marked attention by the empress and the Archduchess Maria. The sensation caused previous to her departure for England was extraordinary; and during her last performances at the great theatres, the stalls, ordinarily sold at two florins, rose to fifty ; yet three thousand persons were unable to pro- cure admission. The last night, not content with calling her forward innumerable times, with plaudits, cheers, and deafen- ing shouts, the audience joined the crowd Avhich attended her home. Thirty times she was summoned to her window, and the crowd cried urgently, "Jenny Lind, say you will come back again !" At length Jenny Lind, bathed in tears, took asunder the heaped bouquets lying on her table, and scattered from the balcony the separated flowers, which were snatched up by the eager crowd. Her departure from Stockholm for London was signalized by a demonstration most muisual for so cold a people as the Swedes. Between fifteen and twenty thousand persons were assembled on the quay to take leave of their beloved country- woman ; military bands were stationed at intervals, and she embarked amid cheers, music, good wishes, and sobbing adicux. The rigging of the vessels in the harbor was manned, and the hurrahs and waving of handkerchiefs continued as long as the steamer which bore her away was in sight. Her last pei-form- ance in her native city was in aid of the funds of a charitable 472 QUEENS OF SONG. institution she had founded, and the tickets of admission on this occasion were sold at immense prices by auction. Mdlle. Lind arrived in London April 17, 1847. Her first days were passed with her friend Mrs. Grote, wife of the his- torian and member of Parliment ; but she subsequently took a furnished house at Brompton, where she lived in strict se- clusion from society during her engagement. One of the first who heard the Nightingale was Lablache. The mighty basso was in raptures with her voice ; every note, he said, " was like a pearl." This comparison quite took the fancy of Jenny, and one morning, during rehearsal at Her Maj- esty's Theatre, she tripped up to the great Italian, and politely asked him to lend her his hat. He readily complied, though surprised at the oddity of such a request. She took the hat with a graceful courtesy, and retired to a distant part of the stage, where she commenced singing a French air with her lips to the edge of the broad-brimmed chajDcau. Having con- cluded her performance, she returned to Lablache, and ordered him to fall on bended knee, as she had a valuable j^resent for him, returning him his hat, with the declaration that she had made him exceedingly rich, according to his own showing, in- somuch as she was giving him a hatful of "pearls." Her sim- plicity and innocent gayety delighted all, and as for Lablache, he could scarcely have been more gratified if she had filled his hat with diamonds. Jenny Lind's debut took place on the 4th of May. The op- era was Robert le Diahle, thus cast : Robert, Fraschini ; Raim- baud, Gardoni ; Bertram, Staudigl ; Isabelle, Madame Castel- lan ; Alice, Mdlle. Jenny Lind. The house was crowded to sufibcation. The queen. Prince Albert, and numbers of emi- nent personages were present. The accounts of the debu- tante's brilliant triumphs in Germany, and the extraordinary enthusiasm which she had every where created, had rendered the musical world most anxious to see and hear her. She had been the subject of conversation in all circles ; her name was in every body's mouth ere she set foot on the English shore. Always, at the commencement of an opera, Mdlle. Lind suf- fered from a nervousness which she only mastered in the course of performance. Before the opera began a shudder would seize her; she stepped falteringly on the stage, and sang her first notes timidly, only conquering her agitation by JEIsTNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 473 degrees. How, then, must she have felt on this all-important evening? " The curtain went up, the opera began, the cheers resound- ed, deep silence followed," says a writer in the JIusical World, " and the cause of all the excitement was before us. It open- ed its lips, and emitted sounds. The sounds it emitted were right pleasing, honey-sweet, and silver-toned. With all this there was, besides, a quietude that we had not marked before, and a something that hovered about the object, as an unseen grace that was attired in a veil of innocence, transparent as the thin surface of a bubble, disclosing all, and making its own presence rather felt than seen." The appearance of Jenny Lind in her pilgrim's garb was the signal for an enthusiastic outburst of applause. The delicious sustained notes which commenced her first cavatina. Vet, dit- elle, full, clear, and bell-like, then dying oflE" into the faintest whisper, were exquisite : they were followed by thunders of applause, above which rose the stentorian brava of Lablache, who was sitting in his box enraptured. Each verse of the charming little romance, Quand je quitted la Normandiey was encored. " At the conclusion of the last she gave the roulade, dpleine voix, limpid and deliciously sweet, and finished with a shake so delicate, so softly executed, that each one held his breath to listen, and the torrent of applause at the end bafilcd description." At the conclusion of the opera, Jenny Lind was called before the curtain three distinct times, shouts, Avaving of hats and handkerchiefs, every sign of rapturous delight be- ing displayed by the audience. Ilcr performance, both dramatic and vocal, transcended the most highly-wrought expectations. Combining the rustic sim- plicity of the lowborn maiden Avith the lofty purity of her holy mission, Jenny Lind's Alice was a sublime as well as a cap- tivating creation, while she showed every quality of vocal art — a voice whose tone penetrated .to every heart, style and execution the most exquisitely finished, and those pow- ers of expression which render music the most eloquent lan- guage of sentiment and passion. Her voice, a high soprano, neither powerful nor of great compass, possessed much suavi- ty and delicious lightness, and was singularly brilliant, clear, and silvery in the upper register, though a little throaty in the middle. 474 QUEENS OF SONG. " It is "vranting in that roundness and mellowness which be- longs to organs of the South," observes a very able musical critic. " When forced, it has by no means an agreeable sound, and falls hard and grating on the ears. It is evident that, in the greater part of its range, acquired by much perseverance and study, Nature has not been bountiful to the Swedish night- ingale in an extraordinary degree. But art and energy have supplied the defects of nature. Perhaps no artiste, if we ex- cept Pasta, ever deserved more praise than Jenny Lind for what she has worked out of bad materials. From an organ neither naturally sweet nor powerful, she has elaborated a voice capable of producing the most vivid sensations. In her mezzo-Yoce singing scarcely any vocalist we ever heard can be compared to her. The most delicate notes, given with the most perfect intonation, captivate the hearers, and throw them into ecstasies of delight. This is undoubtedly the great charm of Jenny Lind's singing, and in this respect we subscribe our- selves among her most enthusiastic admirers. . . . She sustains a C or D in alt with unerring intonation and surprising power. These are attained Avithout an effort, and constitute another charm of the Nio-htinacale's sino^ine:. " In pathetic music Jenny Lind's voice is heard to much ad- vantage. Indeed, her vocal jDowers seem best adapted to dem- onstrate the more gentle and touching emotions. For this reason her solo singing is almost that alone in which she makes any extraordinary impression. In ensemble singing, excepting in the piano^ her voice, being forced beyond its natural pow- ers, loses all its beauty and peculiar charm, and becomes, in short, often disagreeable. . . . Her voice, with all its charm, is of a special quality, and in its best essays is restricted to a par- ticular class of lyrical compositions. . . . As a vocalist, Jenny Lind is entitled to very high, if not the highest commendation. Her perseverance and indomitable energy, joined to her mu- sical ability, have tended to render her voice as capable and flexible as a violin. Although she never indulges in the bril- liant flights of fancy of Persiani, nor soars into the loftiest re- gions offioriture with that most wonderful of all singers, her powers of execution are very great, and the delicate taste with which the most florid passages are given, the perfect in- tonation of the voice, and its general charm, have already pro- duced a most decided impression on the public mind. By the JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 475 musician, Persiani will be always more admired, but Jenny Lind will strike the general hearer more." Another critic thus speaks of Jenny Lind's voice. " Her voice is a pure soprano — of the fullest compass belonging to voices of this class, and of such evenness of tone that the nicest ear can discover no diflference of quality from the bottom to the summit of the scale. In the great extent between A be- low the lines and D in alt, she executes every description of passage, whether consisting of notes ' in linked sweetness long drawn out,' or of the most rapid flights and fioriture, with equal facility and perfection. Her lowest notes come out as clear and ringing as the highest, and her highest are as soft and sweet as the lowest. Her tones are never mufiled or in- distinct, nor do they ever ofiend the ear by the slightest tinge of shrillness : mellow roundness distinguishes every sound she utters. As she never strains her voice, it never seems to be loud; and hence some one who busied themselves in anticipa- tory depreciation said that it would be found to fail in power, a mistake of which every body was convinced who observed how it filled the ear, and how distinctly every inflection was heard through the fullest harmony of the orchestra. The same clearness was observable in her pianissimo. When, in her beau- tiful closes, she prolonged a tone, attenuated it by degrees, and falling gently upon the final note, the sound, though as ethereal as the sighing of a breeze, reached (like Mrs. Siddons's whis- per in Lady Macbeth) every part of the immense theatre. Much of the cfiect of this unrivaled voice is derived from the physical beauty of its sound, but still more from the exquisite skill and taste with which it is used, and the intelligence and sensibility of which it is the organ. Mdlle. Lind's execution is that of a complete musician. Every jiassage is as highly finished, as perfect in tone, tunc, and articulation, as if it pro- ceeded from the violin of a Paganini or a Sivori, with the ad- ditional charm which lies in the human voice divine. Her em- bellishments show the richest fancy and boundless facility, but they show still more remarkably a well-regulated judgment and taste." As an actress she was easy, natural, and perfectly original. " Following her own bland conceptions," remarks one writer, " she rises to regions whence, like Schiller's maid, she descends to refresh the heart and soul of her audience with e:ifts beau- 476 QUEENS OP SONG. tiful and ■wondrous. Her individuality entirely disappears in her dramatic assumptions ; lier whole soul is melted into and vitalizes the creations of the poet, while the high art stamps perfection on her impersonation." Her by-play was exquisite: she never spared herself in seeking to please her audience. The truth of her acting was once exemplified strangely in Ger- many, when a singer who performed Elvino to her Amina de- clared that he could not act with her, as he was unable to ap- proach her with the wrath the part required, much less spurn her from him, her pathetic delineation of anguish and innocence piercing his heart. She was not handsome, but of very pleasing aspect. Her face was peculiarly placid, her features well-marked and ex- pressive, her complexion pale, her cheek-bones high, her eyes light gray or blue, " dove-like" in their sweetness ; her hair was a i^ale flaxen, very abundant and wavy. In figure she was slightly above the middle size, and very slender, but her movements were full of grace. She had an air of simplicity and goodness ; she looked cold, reserved, modest, and timid. Robert le Diable was repeated the following Thursday, when her majesty was again present. The struggle for admission was even greater than on her first appearance, and the theatre was crowded to the roof. Mdlle. Lind was recalled three times, and overwhelmed with tumultuous plaudits and show- ers of bouquets. The enthusiasm of the public increased daily, and was beyond description. Enormous sums were paid for boxes, and multitudes traveled from the most distant parts of the country to obtain a single hearing of the Swedish Night- ingale. Three gentlemen came from Liverpool for the purpose of hearing her; but, after staying a week in London, they Avere not fortunate enough to obtain admission, and returned home disappointed. Any number of hours were spent by her de- voted admirers before the doors of the Opera House on the chance of obtaining a seat in the pit. From twenty to twen- ty-five pounds were paid for a single box on her night of per- formance, while four or five guineas were commonly j^aid for one stall. Articles of furniture were called by her name; por- traits and memoirs innumerable of the famous artiste were published. During the season Mdlle. Lind performed Amina in La Son- nambula, Maria in Xa Flglia del Reggimento^ etc. She also JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 477 performed in Verdi's new opera, I Masnadieri, which work was by no means a success. Her chef-d'oeuvre was Amiua, in which she was simple, graceful, and touching. At the conclu- sion of her first performance of ia Son7iambula there was au unprecedented scene of excitement. The pit rose en masse, hats and handkerchiefs were waved on all sides, even the la- dies in the boxes joining in the demonstration. Jenny Lind was vehemently called for, and when she came tripping on, the scene baffled description. At the desire of the queen, the Swedish songstress under- took to perform Norma. Though she did not equal Grisi, she gained fresh laurels and heaps of bouquets, to which her maj- esty condescended to add one. During the season Mdlle. Lind sang, in conjunction with Mdlle. Alboni, Madame Grisi, Herr Staudigl, and other leading artistes, at the queen's pri- vate concerts. At the close of the season a handsome " testimonial" was presented to her by Mr. Lumley — of pure silver, nearly three feet in height, representing a pillar wreathed Avith laurel, at the feet of which were seated three draped figures, Tragedy, Comedy, and Music. The Swedish Nightingale w^ent into the provinces under an engagement with Mr. Lumley, and every where created au electrical sensation. The excitement of London was repeated. She then visited Scotland and Dublin. At Edinburgh, fifteen guineas were actually paid for the privilege of heariug her. In this city two concerts were given by Mr. Howard Glover and his brother, who gave Mdlle. Lind £1000 for her services, La- blache £200, Gardoni £150, yet they realized above £1200 by the speculation. In Dublin Mdlle. Lind was received with an uproar of delight. She then returned, by way of Berlin, to Stockholm, where she passed the winter. Such was the eagerness to witness her performance at Stockholm that the places at the theatre were put up at auction, and brought immense prices. With her share of the proceeds Mdlle. Lind established an asylum for the support of decayed artists, and a school for young girls who were studying for the musical profession. One girl so quickly profited by this opportunity that she was considered by her benefactress sufficiently promising to be sent to Paris to complete her studies, with a provision of 6000 francs for 478 QUEENS OF SONG. her expenses. When Mdlle. Lind left Stockholm to return to London, the quays were crowded by the people of the city ; all the ships in the harbor were manned ; and amid the play- ing of bands of music, she was conducted to the steamer, in which she embarked in presence of the Queen of Sweden and her court. The "Lind mania" raged in 1848 without diminution. The public were dazzled, enchanted. They heard with delight, too, of her munificent deeds of charity, and the many traits of her amiability, her piety, and her goodness. To her repertoire she added this season Lucia, Susanna, and Elvira {I Puritani). In June she appeared for the first time as Adina, in L^Elisir cVAmore^ with Lablache, Belletti, and Gardoni. She continued in England after the termination of the season, probably on account of the unsettled state of the Continent ; and during the autumn and winter she undertook extensive provincial tours, sometimes appearing in her dramatic characters, but more frequently singing at concerts and in oratorios. She went on a trip to Dublin, where she received a tumultuous ovation. At Birmingham, Manchester, Norwich, there was one fever of delight. At Manchester she gave two concerts in aid of the Infirmary of the city, and, as an acknowledgment of her kindness, the people of Manchester presented her with a superb dressing-case and a necklace of pearls. In the city of Norwich she formed the acquaintance of the excellent bishop, who remained one of her most cordial and attached friends. On leaving Norwich she was presented by the bishop with a Bible, while the mayor, on behalf of the city, ofiered her a splendidly-illustrated edition of Milton's Paradise Lost. The following April Jenny Lind reappeared at Her Majes- ty's Theatre for a limited number of nights, having resolved finally to take leave of the stage. Her last operatic perform- ance in opera was given May 10, in her original character of Alice. Even in the first flush of the public excitement, never was there a more striking scene than the Opera House pre- sented on the night of her farewell. The crowd was dense ; boxes, stalls, pit — every nook was filled. Her majesty. Prince Albert, the Duchess of Kent, and all the rank and fashion of London, assembled to pay a last tribute of admiration. At the fall of the curtain the vast assembly rose with a burst of cheers, and the shouts of delight were deafening. In a few JKNNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 479 moments Jenny Lincl came forward, led by Gardoni, and bowed respectfully to the audience. She was visibly affected, yet shrank from all open expression of her feelings. Scarcely had she retired Avhen another storm arose, and again Jenny Lind came forward, led by Belletti. Bouquets were showered on the stage, and the applause was louder, if possible, than ever. A third time she was called; when she came on alone, trem- bling with suppressed emotion, bowing lowly, and looking an eloquent farewell. This time the enthusiasm was so irrepress- ible, so prolonged, so spontaneous, so overwhelming, that she was no longer able to control her feelings, and tears of grati- tude flowed over her pale cheeks. The close of 1849 found her in Germany. At Lubeck she concluded a treaty with Barnura, the exhibitor of General Tom Thumb, which resulted in her visiting America under his au- spices. The terms were 680,000, £200 for each of the 150 concerts at which Mdlle. Lind was to sing, the entire personal expenses of her party being paid. She was accompanied by Siguor Belletti and Jules Benedict, the former of whom re- ceived 812,500, the latter 81000. The time between signing her American engao-ement and her departure was employed by Jenny Lind in giving concerts on the Continent, mostly for charitable purposes. She sang at Berlin, Bremen, and Gottingen, with her unvarying success. At the two latter places, the students formed a procession by torch-light in her honor, gave her a serenade, and formed an escort for her to Nordheim. Her last songs on this side the Atlantic Averc given at Liv- erpool, in the -splendid new hall of the Philharmonic Society. There were, including the orchestra, upward of 3000 persons present. The appearance of the Swedish Nightingale was the signal for a demonstration that can not be described. The au- dience stood up to welcome her, and such a volley of cheers as rent the air was, perhaps, never before heard within the walls of a theatre or concert -room; three times was the salvo re- peated, and it Avas almost with difficulty that Mdlle. Lind, who seemed quite overpowered by her reception, was enabled to obtain silence. She sang some English airs. Her pronuncia- tion was exceedingly pure and articulate, " with just so mucli of accent as gave it a special and fascinating quaintness." In the ballad style she excelled quite as much as in the florid and 480 QUEENS OF SONG. bravura school : there was a simplicity, an earnestness of dec- lamation, a peculiar charm, which thrilled the hearer. Her arrival at New York, in September, being expected, the dock and landing were crowded with persons curious to obtain the first glimpse of the great songstress. Amid cheers and acclamations from the hundreds gathered around the car- riage in waiting for her, Mdlle. Lind disembarked, and was driven to the Irving House Hotel. At midnight 30,000 per- sons assembled, and at one in the morning 130 musicians came up to serenade her, led by VOO firemen. The excitement was extraordinary : it became a distinction even to have a proba- bility of hearing her sing. The papers actually published the names of those who bought tickets, and printed a fac-simile of the card which was to admit the public to hear her : they were not ashamed to fill their columns with stories of the most ridic- ulous nature. The anxiety to see Mdlle. Lind whenever she happened to take a drive was almost frantic. Public " recep- tion days" were arranged for her, and throngs of ladies at- tended her drawing-rooms. Presents of all kinds poured in upon her, the donors thereof anticipating that she would give them rings, pins, bracelets, brooches, etc., etc., in token of grat- itude. The first three days innumerable bouquets and other testimonies of esteem were sent, which she declined to receive. On the day of the first concert, spite of torrents of rain, there were 5000 persons in the ofiice buying tickets; and the first ticket for the first concert was sold for $600 (£45). On the morning of Mdlle. Lind's first appearance, September 11, at Castle Garden, there was nothing else talked of from one end of New York to the other. The building was crowded to ex- cess in the evening, though there were very few ladies. Shouts from 7000 throats saluted the Swedish songstress as, pale and agitated, she stepped timidly forth, dressed simply in white, the applause surpassing every thing that had previously been ofiered her. She sang " Casta Diva," a duet, with Belletti, from Rossini's II Turco m Italia, the Trio Concertante with two flutes from Meyerbeer's Cam2y of Silesia, accompanied by herself— a most exquisite performance, her voice perfectly echoinff the notes of the flutes. She sang also two national airs of Sweden. The first concert realized $20,000. Mdlle. Lind gave her share, $10,000, to the benevolent institutions of New York, JEXNT LIND G0LDSCH5IIDT. 481 and on learning that some of the members of the 'New York orchestra were in indigent circumstances, she generously made them a substantial gift. Her beneficent actions during her en- tire stay in America are too numerous to detail. She helped numbers, and gave largely of the enormous sums which she received. Frequently would she flit away from her house, quietly, as if about to pay a visit, and then she might be seen disappearing down back lanes or into the cottages of the poor. She was warned to avoid so much liberality, as many unwor- thy persons took unfiTir advantage of her bounty ; but she in- variably replied, " Never mind ; if I relieve ten, and one is worthy, I am satisfied." She had distributed 30,000 florins in Germany ; she gave away in England nearly £00,000 ; and in America she ^ttered in charity no less than 650,000. Making a certain provision for her own future support, as well as that of her beloved parents, who resided in Sweden, her de- sire was to devote the proceeds of her visit to America to pro- moting education among the poor of her native land. Her second debut in the States was in Boston, October 1, at the Tremont Temple, where she had the same stupendous success. October 7, she sang in Providence. The next con- cert which she gave in Boston was appropriated to charitable purj)oses. She then went to Philadelphia, back to New York, again to Philadelphia, then to Baltimore, Washington, Rich- mond, Charleston, Havana, and other places. At Baltimore, while standing at a balcony, bowing to the loud and enthusi- astic applause of the multitude at the close of a serenade, she had the misfortune to drop her shawl ; in less than a minute it was torn into fragments, which were distributed to all who were in the immediate vicinity, as mementoes of the songstress. In June, 1851, Mdlle. Lind availed herself, after the 95th concert, of an article in the agreement with Mr. Barnum, which enabled her to prematurely conclude her engagement, and by a sacrifice of some $30,000, to break the jiartnership. She then continued the series herself. Some time after this she married Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, a pianist, son of a wealthy merchant of Hamburg. He was twenty-four, small, but good-looking. His graceful and fin- ished style of playing had obtained for hira much applause in London at the concerts of the Musical Union in 1849. Madame Lind Goldschmidt returned to Europe in 1852. 31 X 482 QUEENS OF SONG, After a brief tour through England en route to Germany, de- clining every proposition for a public appearance, she settled in Dresden, employing in good works, and in piously founding schools, etc., a part of her immense fortune. Excepting on the occasion of concerts given at Vienna, Hamburg, and a few other German cities, she confined herself strictly to the retire- ment of private life up to December, 1856, when she reappear- ed in London, at Exeter Hall, and by her admirable rendering of the finest sacred music revived her former popularity. For her first appearance the Creation was chosen, the music of this oratorio being especially suited to the marvelous fullness and purity of her voice. " The wonder is," said one critic, "that the notes should issue forth with such sustained ease from a frame so comparatively gentle." The beautiful airs, " With verdure clad," and " On mighty pens," were warbled with a charming clearness of intonation ; and all the other pieces were delivered with an extraordinary beauty and finish. Her second appearance was in Elijah^ in which she sang with splendid eflfect. Her intensity of feehng, her faultless skill, her exquisite taste, were irreproachable. From that to the present time, Mr. and Mme. Goldschmidt have lived almost entirely in England, having apparently de- termined to make this country their permanent home. She has occasionally appeared in public, generally for benevolent purjjoses ; and, whenever she appears, she is received with as much enthusiasm as ever. In private society she meets with the esteem and regard due to her virtues and talents. SOPHIE CKUVELLl. 483 CHAPTER XXXVI. SOPHIE CKUVELLl. Sophie Cruvelli, the daughter of a Protestant clergyman named Cruwell, was born, 1830, at Bielefeld in Prussia. Her family, though by no means rich, possessed some little prop- erty, and intended to endow Sophie Avith a moderate fortune when she should marry. Her parents resolved to educate her with care, and, finding that she had a decided taste for music, her mother took her to Paris when she was fourteen, that she might obtain finishing lessons. Permarini and Bordogni were the masters from whom she received instruction. The latter, at once i^erceiving the intu- itive genius of the girl, spared no trouble, and would not allow her to spare herself labor. He made her practice solfeggio four hours a day, setting her the most difficult exercises he could invent ; and during two years of severe application and tedious labor, he would not permit her to sing any thing but vocal scales. At the end of that time her mother came to take away Sophie, thinking that she must by this time have acquired a sufficient mastery of French and music, and might very well return home ; but Bordogni protested against rob- bing the musical world of such a treasure as the Frilulein Cru- well would prove, after two or three years more of study : it was foolish, it was wrong, he declared^ to prevent her from following what was obviously her destiny, Madame Cruwell saw the justice of Bordogni's representations. " If my daugh- ter devotes herself to the stage," she said, " and freely em- braces the career of an artiste, we may endeavor to submit to farther sacrifices ; but if merely destined to bring up a family, she has learned quite enough of solfeggio : her little fortune will be all consumed by her singing lessons." Sophie was consulted, and declared that she must become a prima donna ; so it was settled that she should complete her studies in Italy, and the family left for Milan. Before quitting Paris, however. 484 QUEENS OF S02^G. she ajjpeared at a concert given by the Hemie et Gazette Mil- sicale, September 12, 1847. At Milan she was preparing to commence operations with spirit, when a dreadful discovery was made. She could not sing at all! When she opened her lips, not a sound came forth; her voice was absolutely gone! The despair of the family, the anguish of Sophie, are not to be depicted. Nothing- remained to be done but to return to Bielefeld. "While making their preparations for departure in mournful saduess, Signor Lamberti, an experienced professor, to whom they had been recommended, was announced. They described to him their misfortune, at which Lamberti was very much surprised; how- ever, he began talking to Sophie, and soon ascertained what he had suspected to be the truth, that her voice had simply been exhausted by the fatigue of her journey. He therefore advised the family to defer their departure for a few days. They did so, and when he called again, Sophie's voice had returned clear- er and more beautiful than ever: the high notes had gained additional purity and strength, and the lower were more rich and mellow than they had ever been before. Lamberti assist- ed the young German with advice and instruction, and at last, at the end of 1847, Sophie made her debut at La Fenice, under the Italianized name of Cruvelli, in the part of Dona Sol [Er- nmii). She next performed Norma, and was most favorably received. Deserted by his original company, Mr. Lumley was roving- all over Europe in quest of another, and having heard Mdlle. Cruvelli at Venice, he immediately engaged her for the ensu- ing season. The company at Her Majesty's Theatre in 1848 consisted of Mesdaraes Persiani and Viardot, Mesdemoiselles Alboni and Cruvelli, Signori Cuzzani, Belletti, Gardoni, and Polouini. Mdlle. Cruvelli was then only eighteen, and her voice and style were still unfinished ; yet, although she was unaided by any extraneous intei*est, and the "Lind mania" was raging, Mdlle. Cruvelli made a decided sensation. She appeared on Saturday, February 19, in Ernani, with Cuzzani, Gardoni, and Belletti. She possessed much enthusiasm, spirit, and anima- tion, though as yet deficient in physical power, and often led into mistaking violence for energy. Her voice, in compass from F to F, was a clear, silvery soprano, the low notes of SOPHIE CKUVELLI. 485 which had something of the contralto quality ; her tones were vigorous, fresh, and bell-like. In ajipearance she was youthful and engaging. Her figure, of the middle height, was fine and well-moulded, her face of the Teutonic type. Her manner was particularly dramatic, and hei- style energetic. The audience were prepossessed in her favor, and gave her the kindest re- ception ; in fact, she was entirely successful. Mdlle. Cruvelli made a farther advance as Odabella in At- tila, and as Lucrfizia in I Due Foscari: her performances w^ere acknowledged to be of high order, both vocally and dramat- ically. She also gained much credit by her personation of Lu- crezia Borgia, acting with great intelligence, earnestness, and energy. She ap])eared in Ernani five times ; as Abigaile, in Nino^ twice ; as Lucrezia Borgia thrice ; as Rosina in II Bar- biere, and the Countess in Kozze cU Fiffciro, to Jenny Lind's Susanna, several times. Her Rosina was a pretty, piquant performance, modest and unpretending, and not deficient in dramatic truth. Unfortunately, Sophie Avas driven away by the Lind fever, and she retreated to Germany, where she commenced a mu- sical tour. She was at Berlin when the Revolution broke out, and was obliged to quit the city. She left Berlin for Trieste, where, during the Carnival, she performed in Attila, JSforma, Don Pasquale, 3Iacbeth — in short, any thing and every thing, old and new, serious and comic, classical and sensational. Ear- ly in 1850 she was at Milan, Avhere the patrons of La Scala of- fered her the most extravagant ovations. She then went to Genoa, where she had an unlucky difierence with the young habitues of the parterre, in consequence of a misunderstand- ing. She sang in Lucrezia Bonjia^ JSTorma, A'^abucco, and At- tila, and her success was so great that it Avas impossible to obtain a place without securing it several days in advance. Her last part was in an opera by Signor Chiaramonte, a Nea- politan con1f)oser, which added greatly to her fiime, and she was eulogized in the most rapturous terms by the Italian journalists. The second week in April, 1850, she made her first appear- ance at the Theatre Italien, in Paris, then under Mr. Lumley's direction, as Elvira, to Mr. Sims Reeves's Ernani. She was received with enthusiasm which surpassed even that excited at Venice, Trieste, or Milan, and she repeated the character 486 QtrEENS OF SONG. several times to crowded houses. She appeared for a second time at Her Majesty's Theatre, May 20, 1851, in Fidelio, with Mr. Sims Reeves. Her improvement had been marvelous. Although scarcely more than twenty, she had now become a most adraii*able art- iste. The sculpturesque beauty of her physiognomy, the pro- found dramatic sentiment of her acting, the incomparable bril- liancy of her voice, elicited universal admiration. Her Leo- nora was an exquisitely finished, an entrancing jjerformance ; and her acting and singing in the prison scene was forcible, intense, yet delicately shaded. "From the shuddering expres- sion given to the words, ' How cold it is in this subterranean vault,' spoken on entering Florestan's dungeon," said one crit- ic, " to the joyous and energetic duet, in which the reunited pair give vent to their rapturous feelings, all was inimitable. Each transition of feeling was faithfully conveyed, and the suspicion growing by degrees into certainty that the wretch- ed prisoner is Florestan, was depicted with heart- searching- truth. The internal struggle was perfectly expressed." "With Mdlle. Cruvelli," says this writer, "Fidelio is gov- erned throughout by one purpose, to which every thing is ren- dered subservient. Determination to discover and liberate her husband is the main-spring not only of all her actions, and the theme of all her soliloquies, but even when others likely to in- fluence her design in any way are acting or speaking, we read in the anxious gaze, the breathless anxiety, the head bent to catch the slightest word, a continuation of the same train of thought, and an ever-living ardor in the pursuit of the one cherished object. In such positions as these, where one gifted artist follows nature with so delicate an appreciation of its most subtle truths, it is not easy for a character occupying the background of the stage picture to maintain (although by gesture only) a constant commentary upon the words of oth- ers without becoming intrusive or attracting an midue share of attention. Yet Cruvelli does this throughout the first scene (especially during the duet betwixt Rocco and Pizarro, in which Fidelio overhears the plan to assassinate her husband) with a perfection akin to that realized by Rachel in the last scene of Les Horaces, where Camille listens to the recital of her brother's victory over her lover ; and the result, like that of the chorus in a Greek drama, is to heighten rather than SOPHIE CRUVELLI. 487 lessen the effect. These may be considered minor points, but, as necessary j^arts of a great conception, they are as import- ant, and afford as much evidence of the master mind, as tlie artist's delivery of the grandest speeches or scenes." " Mdlle. CruveUi," observes another critic, " has the power of* expressing joy and despair, hope and anxiety, hatred and love, fear and resolution, with equal facility. She has voice and execution sufficient to master with ease all the trying dil- ficulties of the most trying and difficult of parts," Norma was Sophie's second performance. "Before the first act was over, Sophie Cruvelli demonstrated that she was as profound a mistress of the grand as of the romantic school of acting, as perfect an interpreter of the brilliant as of the clas- sical school of music." She represented Fidelio five times, and j!!^orma thrice. Her features were most expressive, and well adapted to the lyric stage; her manner also was dramatic and energetic. She was highly original, and always thought for herself. Possess- ing a jDrofound insight into character, her conception was al- ways true and just, while her execution continually varied. "The one proceeds from a judgment that never errs, the oth- er from impulse, which may j^ossibly lead her astray. Thus, while her Fidelio and her Norma are never precisely the same on two consecutive evenings, they are, nevertheless, always Fi- delio and Norma. . . . She does not calculate. She sings and acts on the impulse of the moment; but her performance must always be impressive, because it is always true to one idea, always bearing upon one object — the vivid realization of the character she impersonates to the apprehension of her audi- ence." So much was she the creature of impulse, that even when she woiild spend a day, a week, a month, in elaborating a certain passage — a certain dramatic effect — perhaps on the night of performance she would improvise something perfect- ly different from her preconceived idea. Her sister Marie made her debut in Thalberg's Florinda, in July, with Sophie. She was a graceful and charming con- tralto; but her timidity, and an ovcrdelicacy of expression, did not permit her then to display her talents to the greatest advantage. The brother of the sisters Cruvelli was a fine bar- itone. At the close of 1851, Sophie went again to the Theatre 488 QUEENS OF SONG. • Italien ; and the following year she returned to London, mak- ing her appearance, April 17, as Norma, with Lablache and Gardoni. She had established herself as a welcome favorite, and performed during the season in La Sonnambula^ II Bar- Mere, etc. Her improvement was remarkable even in her act- ing, always so energetic and impulsive. Before the termina- tion of the season, the whimsical young lady suddenly disap- peared, without giving any reason for her extraordinary pro- ceeding, or vouchsafing any subsequent explanation. She was heard of in August at Wiesbaden, from whence she repaired to Aix-la-Chapelle, where she performed in Le FropMte. Then she was on the banks of the Rhine, and afterward she reap- peared at the Theatre Italien. There was unwonted excitement among the frequenters of the Grand Opera in Paris on January 16, 1854, for Sophie Cru- velli was to make her debut there, the opera selected for this occasion hem^^ Les Huguenots. She was to receive 100,000 francs for six months. Meyerbeer was very much pleased, and set to work once more on his long-promised opera, L'Af- ricaine, the principal character in which he destined for Mdlle. Cruvelli, of Avhose talents he. entertained the highest opinion. The house was crowded to the ceiling. A fortnight in ad- vance, orchestra stalls were sold for 200 francs, and boxes were scarcely to be obtained. The emperor and empress ar- rived some time before the hour of commencing; and the number of notabilities among the audience was striking. Mey- erbeer, pleased by the renewed impetus given to his pet ope- ra, was present, as also were Auber, Benedict, Berlioz, Alboni, Madame Viardot, Mario, Tamburini, Vivier, Theophile Gau- tier, Fiorentino ; " it was scarcely possible to direct an opera- glass to any part of the house without bringing the face and figure of some notable person into view." It w^as unan- imously agreed that such a Valentine had never been seen or heard ; and Meyerbeer himself, who is not easily satisfied, especially in his own works, expressed the warmest appro- bation. In March, Spontini's Vestale was reproduced. As many years had elapsed since its performance last in Paris, the | greatest curiosity was manifested to hear it. Nevertheless, it did not obtain the triumphant success that had been antici- pated ; for, although Mdlle. Cruvelli sang with great power SOPHIE CEUVELLI. 489 and sometimes with almost terrible energy, the opera was ex- ecuted very carelessly by the orchestra and the chorus. Mdlle. Cruvelli's performance was praised on all sides. " She is, in fact, almost the only cantatrice who acts as well as sings. She would have made an excellent tragedian," says one writer. Roger and Bonnehee took the other parts in this opera, and were much applauded. Having been engaged at the Royal Italian Opera, Sophie Cruvelli appeared Thursday, April 27, as Desdemona, with Tamburini and Ronconi. She received, it was said, £250 a night for eight nights. May 3 she appeared in Fidelio^ in which she was not to be surpassed ; and on May 11 (for the first time at the Royal Italian Opera) in Don Giovanni. As Donna Anna she achieved a new success, displaying unexpect- ed intensity and variety of passion, and delivering some of the fine recitatives and airs in a superb style. June 21, Robert le Diable was revived with great splendor at the Grand Opera in Paris, in presence of a brilliant and overflowing audience. Sophie Cruvelli was magnificent as Alice, and her voice was pure and fresh. In October, an ex- traordinary sensation was created in the musical circles of Par- is by the sudden disappearance of Sophie. She was announced to perform in Les Huguenots^ but when the evening arrived she was not to be found. She had left Paris by the Northern Railway without any intimation of where she was gone. The previous season, at the Theatre Italien, she had more than once played a trick of the same kind, not being regularly paid ; but it created great surprise that she would relinquish such an enor- mous salary — £4000 for a season consisting of eight months, for singing only twice a week ; abandon every thing, injure the manager, M. Fould, and insult the public — all for a whim. Every imaginable reason for her departure Avas guessed at. Her furniture and the money at her bankers' were seized upon as a security for the forfeit (£4000) which she had incurred by this breach of her engagement, and her private letters and papers were opened and read. In November she " demanded and obtained permission" to return to the Grand Opera, when the cause of her eccentric flight appeared to be a " misunder- standing." She presented herself again in Lcs ITuguoiots, and the audience testified their displeasure by receiving the truant in solemn silence; but she ultimately succeeded in winning X2 490 QUEENS OF SONG. their pardon, and continued to be the great attraction, for some time, in Les Huguenots. In 1855 Verdi's V(ipres Siciliefines was produced, Mdlle. Cruvelli taking the part of Helene, the other characters being performed by Bonnehee, Gueymard, and Obin. The mise-en- scene was splendid, and the opera was completely successful. " The audience Avas electrified by the tones of her magnificent voice, which realized with equal effect those high inspirations that demand passion, force, and impulse, and those tender pas- sages that require delicacy, taste, and a thorough knowledge of the art of singing. No one could reproach Mdlle. Cruvelli with exaggeration, so well did she know how to restrain her ardent nature." " Cruvelli is the Rachel of the Grand Opera !" exclaimed a French critic. Rumors of her approaching marriage now began to circulate, and it was understood that she was about to finally quit the stage; and on January 5, 1856, Sophie Cruvelli married the Baron Vigier, a wealthy young Parisian, the son of Baron or Count Vigier, whose father endowed the city of Paris with the immense bathing establishments upon the Seine which bear his name, and who, under Louis Philippe, was a member of the Chamber of Deputies, and afterward Peer of France. In July, 1857, a concert was given for the poor at Vannes, at which Madame la Baronne Vigier (Sophie Cruvelli) sang, and which produced the sura of 4000 francs (£160). In 1860 Madame Vigier was residing with her husband at his baronial mansion at Nice, and sang on many occasions in the salons of the elite of the oflicial and fashionable world. She sang her own compositions among others, one of which consist- ed of variations on a well-known Tyrolienne, showy, replete with traits as eccentric, and eccentricities as defiant of rule as herself. She continued to sing frequently at charity concerts. tV. o V horrified at her wisli to become a vocalist. From the age of ')y Bo- : Other • and OI)in. The mise-en- 'her appr .'11 Ci vtll «4«^i. \ Om i-OCv, . marriage now began to circulat finally quit th^- ■ 1 the it oi i'uie i;- MARIETTA PICCOLOMIjSI. 493 CHAPTER XXXVll. MARIETTA PICCOLO MINI. During the Carnival of 1856, a stranger would have imag- ined that the inhabitants of the little town of Sienna had sud- denly become frantic, for they were rushing hither and thither, from church to theatre, from the duomo to balls and dancing- parties. They were mad with joy at having received permis- sion to wear masks, which had been jDrohibited for more than eight years. They were deliriously dancing, shouting, singing, ogling, laughing, screaming, with the most hilarious gayety and frol- icsome good-humor, pelting each other with roses, violets, and camellias, confetti, or bon-bons ; doing every thing by turns, and nothing long, and finishing the day by going to the Opera, to weep over the woes of the unhappy Violetta, heroine of Za Traviata, personated by Marietta Piccolomini. Next to the rapture of being allowed to resume their masks, there was nothing they were more infatuated with than the performance of this young prima donna ; and an Italian audience, when it takes a fancy to a singer, behaves in a manner incomprehensible to people not accustomed to such vehement demonstrations. Marietta Piccolomini was the idol of the Siennese that sea- son, and the opera of Z« Traviata, condemned in the other theatres of Italy, but triumphantly revived by her, was the fa- vorite piece of the Carnival. Marietta, who had been born in Sienna in 1834, was a descendant of the Piccolomini familv, which, transplanted by Charlemagne among the Gauls, and re- planted in fertile Italy, had bloomed with clusters of illustri- ous men. One of the principal personages of the family was Pope Pius II., and one of Marietta's uncles was a cardinal. Marietta, though the descendant of a noble line, had taken it into her head that she would like to become a singer. She was allied to the most distinguished families in the kingdom, and was to have a respectable dowry, and her parents were horrified at her wish to become a vocalist. From the age of •G^ J:94 QUEENS OP SONG. four years Marietta had amused herself at playing at mock representatious ; she used to sing duets with her mother, a skillful amateur ; and she had been instructed by Romani, one of the first professional teachers in Italy. Long did she im- plore her father to allow her to appear on the stage. At last her entreaties j)revailed. She was permitted to follow her own fancies, and she made her debut at Kome, November, 1852, in the operas of Poliuto and Don Mucefalo^ under the guidance of her teacher, Romani. Then she appeared at her native town of Sienna, from whence she went to Florence, where she per- formed in Lucrezia JBorgia with immense success. She was scarcely sixteen, and being naturally of a juvenile aspect, she appeared then a mere child. However, although she had not the commanding presence of the haughty Lucrezia, she sang very captivatingly, and the opera was applauded. In the scene where, in the interview with her consort, the Duchess ex- claims, " Tremble, Duke Alfonzo ! Thou art my fourth hus- band, and I am a Borgia !" this portentous threat, from the lips of a child, was so irresistibly droll, that the audience were seized with an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Nevertheless, she pei'formed the character for twenty nights successively. From Florence Marietta ran all over Italy, like an enfant gath^ intoxicated with the pleasure of having crowded audiences at her feet. She was free to choose her engagements ; she had only to present herself for every body to fly in ecstasy to hear her. At Turin, where Ristori had first made herself famous, Mdlle. Piccolomini appeared in November, 1855, for the first time in La Traviata, which, in sjDite of her youth and inexpe- rience, she interpreted with so much talent, that, on the second night of her performance at the Teatro Carignano, a vast con- course of i^eople assembled to greet her as she came forth, and were about to unharness the horses from her carriage. But Marietta started up, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, and said, indignantly, that " men should not put themselves in the place of beasts. Italy had other and nobler uses for her sons." Then, seeing that they were determined on paying her this objectionable homage, which she was equally determined not to accept, she hurried through the stage door, and made her way on foot to her hotel. On another occasion her house was surrounded at midnight by an excited crowd, "bent on jj 3IAEtETTA PICCOLOMIXI, 495 manifesting their frantic delight at her musical poAver," when she came forward, and " sternly rebuked the young men of Italy for their levity, and pointed out how they could more nobly fulfill the great object of their existence." On her benefit night, December 16, 1855, the scene was more like a festival and a public triumph than a theatrical representation. The doors were opened at half past three o'clock ; in a few minutes the theatre was filled by a dense crowd, which waited patiently four hours for La Traviata and the darling Piccolomini, whom they had heard for thirty- five successive nights already. Their pet singer Avas hailed with an uproar of dehght ; flowers were showered on the stage, and, every moment, every phrase was followed by the most enthusiastic applause. The performances over, there was a frantic shout for the vocalist, and such fanaticized ex- citement has rarely been paralleled. The crowd waited till their idol had quitted the theatre, and Avhen she appeared at the stage door they gave her a wildly enthusiastic reception. "Every body pressed round her to bid her adieu, to shake hands with her, even to touch her dress ; and when at last she got into her carriage, the crowd followed her to the hotel, shouting 'Viva la Piccolomini !' She had scarcely entered her apartment when the shouts recommenced, and the enchantress was compelled to show herself in the balcony, again to thank the crowd, which completely thronged the street." The next day there was a benefit at the Teatro Carignano for M. Bianchi, first violin, and ISI. Anglois, first contra basso, when Marietta was to sing again. The prices "vvere raised, and the same pieces were performed as on the preceding day ; nevertheless, every seat was occupied. This brindisi in La Traviata^ sung by Mdlle. Piccolomini and Signer Massimilia- ni, was encored, and she was recalled at least ten times after each mor9cau. Signor Massimiliani, the tenor, was presented by the public with a coronal of gold as a souvenir of his suc- cess in La Traviata with Mdlle. Piccolomini. At the end of the performance all the artistes were recalled, and when La Piccolomini appeared, the audience rose and waved their hand- kerchiefs as a farewell. The ovation of the previous evening was renewed — men and women ranged themselves in a double line in the corridors and passages, and a group of young men detached the horses from her carriage in order to draw it in 496 QUEERS OF SONG. triumph to her hotel ; but she declined this honor, and passed slowly through an almost impenetrable crowd, which accom- panied her the whole way to the door of her own apartment. They began cheering again when she disappeared from view, but she was obliged to present herself several times to thank them, " This evening," she said, in thrilling accents, " will be ever remembered as the happiest of my life." The proceeds of her fourteen uig-hts' representations were divided among the poor. The reports of Marietta's triumiDhs at last attracted the at- tention of the manager of Her Majesty's Theatre, who engaged the charming young prima donna, and she appeared for the first time before an English audience in Let Traviata, Satur- day, May 24, 1856. She is agreeable, sprightly, petite, with a vivacious grace of manner perfectly bewitching. Her figure is slender and ex- tremely elegant ; her features are bright, and capable of ex- pressing the rapid transitions of varying emotion, from arch- ness and coquetry to tender pathos and deepest sorrow. Hei" voice is a high soprano, fresh and youthful, but in range per- haps a little more than two octaves, crisp and flexible, pretty fluent, and rather sweet than powerful. Pier musical decla- mation is excellent, her taste pure. Her debut was a decided success. May 5th, she appeared as Lucia di Lammei*moor. There was great curiosity to see how she would treat this character; the demand for stall tickets was unprecedented, and extrava- gant prices were extorted; not a box was unoccupied, and every portion of the theatre was crowded. The ordeal was a trying one; but Mdlle. Piccolomini passed through it with eclat. By the fasci;iation of her manner, her perfect appreci- ation of the requirements of the stage, her undoubted talent, and by a peculiarly skillful means of managing her somewhat limited voice, she showed herself a most excellent performer, and her Lucia was a veritable triumph. Some passages were inverted, however, to bring them within the compass of her voice, and others materially altered to suit the capabilities of her vocalization. June 26th, Mdlle. Piccolomini appeared for the first time as Maria, in Z,a Ftglia del IReggimento, and July 26th, Don Pa^- quale. In both she was charming. She was considered to MARIETTA PICCOLOMIXI. 497 resemble Soutag more nearly than any other singer. Her small, slight figure, her graceful manner, her coquettish style, bore a certain similitude to the great German singer, though in point of vocalization she was very inferior. She also per- formed Zerlina, in Avhich she was bewitching, though her con- ception and singmg w'ere undoubtedly faulty. " Mdlle. Pic- coloraini's Zerlina is one of the prettiest things witnessed or conceivable," exclaims one critic. " When she frisked on to the stage with the ' Giovinette,' she was greeted with a storm of applause, and her deliciously coquettish singing and acting of ' La ci darem,' with Signor Beneventano, produced a per- emptory demand for its repetition. The other well-known songs, ' Batti, batti,' and ' Vedrai carino,' were sung to per- fection." With very few exceptions, Marietta won the applause of the London critics, w'ho found it impossible to find fault, even with her numerous imperfections. " If this or that passage in La F'ujlia or Don Pasquale Avas not delivered with the magnifi- cence of voice of a Grisi, a Persiani, a Sontag, or a Lind," says one, "and clothed, as by these artistes, with an abundance of fioriturc, perhaps the pen Avas inclined to record that the vocal powers of the performer were insufficient for the important position of prima donna; but the ink would not flow till the writer was resolved to pass over such shortcomings, and to render generous tribute to dramatic poAvers more intense, and yet more refined, than were ever witnessed in so young a can- didate for European fame." At the close of the London season Mdlle. Piccoloraini Avcnt to Dublin. Her first appearance on the stage there was hailed with " one unanimous burst of welcoming plaudits." At the fall of the curtain the young prima donna was vociferously called for, and then nearly buried in heaps of flowers, while "peal after peal of cheering echoed through the house." So cordial a greeting Avas rarely accorded to a debutante on the Dublin stage. The reception which she had met Avith in England Avas faint compared to that Avhicli aAvaited her in Paris, where she ap- peared Saturday, December 6, in La Traviata, Avhich Avas then performed for the first time in the French capital. Verdi, who did not like his operas to be represented at the Italiens, because he was not paid for the right by that theatre, 32 498 QUEENS OP SONG. tried his best to deprive the Parisians of hearing the charming' Sardinian in his Traviata, as he had ah-eady tried to prevent them from having II Trovatore. He demanded, it was said, 20,000 francs from the director of the Italian Opera (M. Cal- zado) for " permission" to perform Bigoletto and La Tramata^ which the director refused to agree to. When M. Calzado an- nounced La Traviata, M. Boyer, director of the Vaudeville Theatre, applied to the President of the Civil Tribunal for an order on M. Calzado not to perform the piece, on the ground that the libretto was taken from the Lame aux Camelias^ by Alexandre Dumas, junior, which is the property of the Vau- deville Theatre. But on hearing M. Calzado, the president declined to interfere in the matter. There was an unusually brilliant and fashionable audience assembled to witness the debut of the Sardinian Nightingale. The youth, beauty, and fascinating manner of the piquant lit- tle prima donna were dilated on in the warmest terms by those who had had an ojiportunity of hearing and seeing her, and her reception was all that could have been expected by the most sanguine. The audience were enraj)tured with her. Some, indeed, who had unreasonably anticipated seeing a Grisi or a Malibran, were disappointed when they beheld this simple young girl of twenty summers, with a moderate voice, whose chief attributes were her bewitching manner and perfectly original style of acting. The Parisian journalists were for some time irresolute as to the terms in which they should speak of the petite artiste. One says, "She at one time has the air of a child; at another, all the appearance of mature age. She sings, but is not a canta- trice ; she plays with talent, yet she can not be called an ac- tress. At one moment she appears inexperienced and simple ; the next, one would think she had been ten years on the boards. She is an enigma — a problem." " Mdlle. Piccolomini is pleas- ant, petite^ slender, sprightly, and bounds on the stage like a gazelle," says Scudo. " Every thing speaks with her : her pi- quant physiognomy, her expressive eyes, her natural attitudes, her gestures, every thing — to the coquettish way she tosses her charming head. She is an Italian, but an Italienne de race, who is happy to pass through life like a butterfly, joyous and free. Her voice is a thin soprano, without extent, without timbre or brilliancy ; one might say that it was one of those MAEIETTA PICCOLOMIXI. 499 French voices which may be heard at the Opera Comique ; but she sings with such intelligence the words which are con- fided to her, she sings with a feeling so true and so marked, that we almost forget her faults. It will not do to analyze too rigorously the talent of Mdlle. Piccolomini ; but listen without prepossession, see her walk with grace, turning in her hand a bouquet of violets, and do not think whether she is an accom- plished vocalist or not. She is an enfant Men cloitee^ who has much to learn ; but with no radical faults, and possessing an indefinable charm which attracts and dehghts you, spite of your better judgment. After certain legitimate reservations, we may say that Mdlle. Piccolomini is not an ordinary artiste, and we can only say of this charming child, Elle est charmanteP The empress was so much disappointed at being prevented from hearing La Piccolomini on her debut, that an imperial order was sent to M. Calzado for an extraordinary perform- ance, which accordingly took place the following Monday, when their majesties attended. Piccolomini performed Za T^rawia^a in Paris nineteen times in the course of two months. April 12, 1857, Mdlle. Piccolomini made her reappearance in London in La Figlia del Megglmento. Ilcr reception was an ovation — there were showers of bouquets, storms of applause. She also performed in Don Giovanni, Lucia di Lammer- moor, Le Nozze dl Figaro, etc. Her repertoire became more extended this season : she was determined not to be satisfied with the negative reputation she had already gained, but was anxious to improve, being conscious of the real defects under which it could not be denied she labored, though she had de- cidedly advanced in knowledge and practice during her ab- sence. On the occasion of her benefit in July, there was a most extravagant demonstration ; not only were applause and bouquets rained on her, but among other offers of admiration was a white dove, which, attached to a wreath, fell fluttering from one of the boxes on to the stage ! Her Majesty's Theatre being closed, Mdlle. Piccolomini made a provincial tour, and was received with great eclat at LKcr- pool, Manchester, Birmingham, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham, Brighton, and other places. Then she repaired again to Dublin. Li Xovembcr and December she went with Giuglini on a "starring" tour through Germany. February, 1858, Marietta reappeared again at Her Majesty's 500 QUEENS OF SONG. Theatre as Arline, in Balfe's opera La Zingara {The Bohe- mian Girt)^ with Belletti, Vialetti, and Giuglini. She was re- ceived with frantic rapture, and literally pelted with bouquets ; so also Avas Signor Giuglini — this being the first instance of floral offerings being made to a gentleman. The charming lit- tle prima donna already contemplated withrawing from the scene of her triumphs; and April 18, she appeared as Yioletta, this being the first of a series of six farewell performances pre- vious to her final retirement into private life. She did not ex- cite the same enthusiasm as formerly, though she had still many ardent admirers. On the 26th, a new opera, by Signor Cam- pana, entitled Almina^ written expressly for Mdlle. Piccolo- mini, was produced, but it created hardly any sensation. In Abnina, which was performed three times, Mdlle. Piccolomini took her leave of the stage. It was regretted that her last ap- pearances were not devoted to the character of Violetta, with which she had become so identified. In October, ten thousand persons were attracted to the Crystal Palace by the announcement of the farewell benefit of Marietta Piccolomini previous to her departure for the United States. Every reserved seat was occupied — a rare occurrence in that vast hall. The concert, apart from its exceptional in- terest, was not very remarkable. e programme was com- posed entirely o" pieces from known operas by Verdi, Mozart, and P ^etti. Mdlle. x iccolomini, who sang alone and with Sif giuglini, was received with overwhelming plaudits. Si in her best manner, and, in addition to many airs fiv ^u operas (including the famous JLihiamo), she gave ' oh, the once favorite song, " I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls." At the conclusion of the concert the entire audience rose, and waved hats and handkerchiefs with the wildest enthusiasm. Before leaving England Mdlle, Piccolomini went on her cus- tomary provincial tour. In August she went to Dublin, where she performed in Do7i Giovanni with Madame Viardot Gar- cia. • Her Zerlina, although not one of her finest characters, and though her voice was somewhat overtaxed by the music of the part, was applauded with rapture. The furore of de- light which the enchanted Marietta created was extraordinary. The " gallery gods" spontaneously composed, set to a popular tune, and sang in her honor and praise, an address, wherein J MARIETTA PICCOLOMINI. 501 they described their admiration and pleasure. In October she appeared at New York. The fevered expectations of the pub- lic caused the seats to sell at a high premium, and the Ameri- cans were in raptures with the charming little cantatrice. In 1859 (June 20), Mdlle. Piccolomini reappeared in Lon- don, at Drury Lane, in La Traviata^ with Signer Giuglini. She appeared also in La Flglia del Heggimento, in Don Gio- vanni, the last act of L Martiri, and the Bohemian Girl. Al- together she performed some sixteen or seventeen nights; but nobody cared much about her. From London she went to the provinces. Mdlle. Piccolomini, in 1860, married the Marquis Gaetani, and in June, 1861, she sang for the benefit of the sufierers from the earthquake in Central Italy. In private life, the piquant, sparkling little heroine of La Traviata is one of the most delightful, sportive creatures in existence. It is charming to sec her with those whom she loves. Her kindness of heart has been lately shown by her coming to London expressly for the purpose of singing at the three complimentary performances at Her Majesty's Theatre for the benefit of Mr. Lumley, who offered her her first Lon- don engagement. b\j^ QUEENS or SONG. CHAPTER XXXVIII. LOUISA PTNE. Louisa Pyne was scarcely five years of age when she as- tonished her parents and friends by the beauty of her voice, her love for music, and the fluency with which she could re- peat airs that she heard. Such gifts were not to be neglected, and some of her relatives being in the musical Avorld, were well qualified to judge of her promise. Her uncle, Mr. Pyne, was the well-known tenor singer. Miss Pyne was placed with Sir George Smart ; and so quick- ly did she profit by the instruction of that master, that at the age of ten she made her debut at the Queen's Concert Rooms, Hanover Square. Her voice was even then very clear and powerful, and amid the crash of more than fifty orchestral per- formers it was heard distinctly. She was rewarded with the most enthusiastic plaudits. During 1841 and 1842, the con- certs of the " Misses Pyne" in London were veiy fashionably attended, and the rapid improvement of the sisters, Susan and Louisa, was especially noticed. In 1847 the young Louisa appeai'ed in Paris, and was re- ceived with great favor. A pleasing incident marked this so- journ. The secretary of a society for the education of home- less children remarked to the sisters that he " feared it must break up for the want of funds." " Oh !" replied the kind- hearted girls, " let us sing for them." They did so, and the institution was saved. In August, 1849, Miss Louisa Pyne essayed, for the first time, the performance of opera, at Boulogne. She appeared as Amina in ia Sonnambula, and was completely successful. Two months later, Mr. Maddox commenced an operatic sea- son at the Princess's Theatre, and Miss Louisa Pyne was en- gaged as prima donna, Madame Macfarren, wife of the emi- nent composer, being the contralto, Mr. Harrison the tenor, and Mr. Weiss basso. The theatre opened October 1 with Don Giovanni (in English), Miss Pyne performing Zerlina. LOUISA PYNE. 503 Her voice was a lovely soprano, remarkable for, sweetness, compass, flexibility, and resonance, deliciously true and beau- tiful in quality, though slightly veiled. Her intonation was correct, her method and style fine ; she had the utmost fluen- cy, and though fond of indulging in the most dazzling embel- lishments, all her ornaments were admirably placed and ap- propriate. In appearance she was, as every body knows, pe- tite and blonde, with a most agreeable expression and a pecul- iar piquancy, her face sparkling with liveliness and intelli- gence. At that period she was but a novice on the stage, and deficient in dramatic energy; yet, disdaining all stage trick- ery, she evinced an original conception and irreproachable taste : there was a simplicity and elegance in all she did. Miss Pyne's second performance at the Princess's was Ami- na, and her charming and intelligent style and beautiful voice made this personation most striking. Mr. Macfarren's Charles the Second was produced October 27, when Miss Pyne, as Fanny, the inn-keeper's daughter, her first original character, achieved a triumph, more than redeem- ing the promise of her debut. She sang with the purest taste, and warbled florid passages with birdlike ease and facility. "Miss Louisa Pyne has taken the town by storm," it was said. This character completed the triad of successes, of which Zer- lina and Amina constituted the supporting figures. She was encored in each of her four songs, and also in her duet with Madame Macfarren, who performed Julian. The voice of Ma- dame Macfarren was a contralto of considerable compass, round and sweet. Messrs. Harrison, Weiss, and Corri performed the leading male characters. In the summer of 1850 Miss Louisa Pyne was singing at Liverpool in opera, performing in La Sonnamhula^ etc, with Mr. Harrison and Mr. and Mrs. Weiss. Her Amina was very much admired. She represented with simple truth the gentle, loving village maiden, first joyous in her happy aflection, and then crushed with luidcserved grief The principal feature of the conception was its quiet, subdued mildness, "Miss Pyne's representation is, in fact, one of repose," observes a writer of the period. " It is a personation which charms by its simplic- ity, though it never overwhelms by its intensity. We can not, perhaps, give a better idea of Miss Pyne's peculiarities of sing- ing and acting than by saying that she is somewhat of an En- 504 QUEENS OF SONG. glish Sontag, tbougb, of course, we do not intend to insinuate that she can jjour out the fluent and unapproachable graces of that delightful vocalist. She resembles her, however, in the graceful delicacy of her action, and also in the surprising ele- gance of her vocalization." In the spring and summer of 1851 Miss Pyne was at the Haymarket Theatre, Mr. Webster having engaged an excellent operatic troupe to perform on alternate nights Avith the dra- matic company. Miss Pyne was supported by Mrs. Harriet Cawse, and Messrs. Donald King, Corri, Weiss, James Bland, etc. The conductor was Mr. Mellon. The company commenced their campaign in May with The Croum Diamonds, when Miss Pyne, as Catarina, sang brilliantly. Other operas of a similar character were performed during the season. On August 14 of this year Miss Pyne sang at the Royal Italian Opera in II Flauto Magico, with the Italian company, before her majesty and Prince Albert. She next sang at Windsor Castle, and aft- erward at Buckingham Palace on several occasions. Every year she sang at the various musical festivals. In the course of the season of 1852 she sang at different concerts, the Phil- harmonic, etc., and she continued to aj^pear at concerts until, in August, 1854, she embarked at Liverpool for America with her parents and her sister Susan, accompanied by Messrs. Harrison and Borrani. She made her debut before an American audience at the Broadway Theatre, October 9, in the Sonnambula in English. The house was crowded in every part, the tickets being only half a dollar, and the success of the young English prima donna was decided. She took New York by storm, and presents of every imaginable kind, and of great value, were showered on her. The Sonnambula was followed by the Bohemian Girl and by 3Iaritana, the latter being personally directed by Mr. Wallace. The American journalists were horrified at the bad moral of Maritana, but captivated with the music and with the talent of the prima donna. At the termination of her engagement in New York Miss Pyne was serenaded at her private residence, and throughout the Union she met with the same flattering reception. New Orleans was bewitched, and Cincinnati was unable to express its delight; altogether, the tour was highly satisfactory in every respect. LOUISA PYNE. 505 Witli tlie exception of Jenny Lind's engagement, jMiss Pyne's farewell performances at New York were unexampled for enthusiasm. After her last appearance on the stage a deputation of ladies and gentlemen waited upon her at her hotel, and presented her with a magnificent gold bracelet as a token of " admiration for her talent and esteem for her private virtues." In America Miss Pyne's bounty was spontaneous and generous ; the Blind and the Lunatic Asylums, the High Schools of New York, and many other charitable institutions, were all largely benefited by the free and unsolicited exercise of the talents of our English jirima donna. After an absence of more than three years, she presented herself once more before her London admirers, having, in con- junction with Mr. Harrison, taken the Lyceum Theatre for a season of three months. On September 21, 1857, she appeared in The Croicn Diamonds, which was performed alternately with the Huguenots, both operas being well put on the stage. It was noticed that Miss Pyne's transatlantic experiences had given her much confidence and knowledge of the stage, both in singing and acting, while her voice, though it had lost some- what of its power, had gained in mellowness and richness. The Rose of Castile, a new opera by Mr. Balfe, was produced October 29. Miss Pyne sang and acted, from the beginning of this opera to the end, with a fire, force, and finish which won for her the highest applause, and justified her in taking the first rank in her art. In 1858 the Pyne and Harrison Com- pany were at Drury Lane. The operas performed were the Hose of Castile, Flotow's 3farf/ia, Maritana, Croicn Dior monds, the Bohemian Girl, the Trovatore, and the Daughter of the Regiment, the last being for the benefit of Miss Pyne, who appeared as Maria for the first time in London. She sang the music of the Vivandiere with exceeding brilliancy and admirable taste. In 1859 the English Opera company was at Covent Garden, commencing October 9 with Meyerbeer's Dinorah. Embold- ened by the success of the preceding season, the management considerably increased the strength of their company, and made extensive arrangements in every department. In pro- ducing Dinorah on the English stage and as an English opera, the original modeling of the Opera Comique was restored, and the Italian recitatives Avere replaced by dialogue. Miss Y 506 QUEENS OP SONG. Pyne surprised even her most enthusiastic admirers by her performance of the graceful heroine. "That Miss Louisa Pyne would make Dinorah one of those brilliant and marvel- ous feats of vocalism that she alone of all English singers can accomplish, was expected by every one," says a critic, noticing the performance; "but that she should have so greatly eclipsed all her previous realizations was scarcely to have been antici- pated; yet she has done so, and her rendering of Dinorah will place her foremost among living artistes, whether native or foreign. Meyerbeer has so studded the jDart with difficulties of the most elaborate character, and written the pitch so high, that scarcely any voice can touch it ; but when accomplished — and accomplished as it is by Miss Louisa Pyne — the effect is truly marvelous. Her singing of the opening berceuse was truly exquisite, but in the Shadow song she achieved her great- est success ; for any thing more truly beautiful, finished, and exquisite in the execution it is impossible to imagine — it was the perfection of florid singing In every respect we may congratulate Miss Louisa Pyne uj)on a great and brilliant triumph, not alone as a singer, but also as an actress." The English version of II Trovatore was also produced, and later in the season /Satanella and Bicmca by Mr. Balfe. Mr, Wallace's Lvrline was brought out February 23, 1860, and created a great sensation. Miss Louisa Pyne sang most bril- liantly. In 1861, the oj^eras performed were .Bianca, the Daughter of the Regiment^ the Domino Noir^ Hiawatha^ Jjiir- line^ Maritana^ Mr. Glover's Ruy Bias, Hohin Hood — a new opera by Macfarren — Satanella, Mr, Linley's operetta the Toy- tnaher, and Mr. Alfred Mellon's Victorine. Early in 1862, Mr. Benedict's Lily of Killarney was produced ; and a new oper- etta. Court and Cottage, by an amateur composer, Mr. Fred- erick Clay, was brought out on Miss Pyne's benefit, March 22. Miss Louisa Pyne's performance in Le Nozze di Figaro, when she took the place of the American prima donna, Mdlle. Kellogg, at Her Majesty's Theatre, during the season of 1862, Avas universally admired, and was no minor triumi^h. Of the successes achieved by Miss Pyne during the past season of the English Opera Company it is perhaps hardly necessary to speak, inasmuch as they are fresh in the memory of all her admirers. Miss Louisa Pyne is twenty-eight years of age, having been born in 1835. TERESA TIETJENS. 607 CHAPTER XXXIX. TEEESA TIETJENS. Teresa Tietjens is descended from an ancient and noble family. Her parents, who were of Hungarian extraction, re- sided in Hamburg, where Teresa was born in June, 1834. Like most great lyric artists, Teresa dis^Dlayed an early taste for music. Her parents lost no time in obtaining for her the best instruction, and when she was twelve years old she was under the care of an eminent professor. When only fourteen, she possessed a voice of remarkable power and marvelous sweetness; and as it became developed, it was found to be a high soprano of extensive register, ranging from C below the Une to D in alt, and of superb quality — clear, resonant, and perfectly pure. Such a voice required nothing but cultivation to yield fame and fortune; and Mdlle. Tictjens was according- ly sent to Vienna, to study under the best masters in Ger- many. With an enthusiastic passion for the profession she was about to enter, she applied herself with ardor to her studies, and in a very short time she had acquired sufficient science to commence her career. On her return to Hamburg she readily obtained an engage- ment at the principal theatre in that city, and made her first appearance before a public audience in April, 1849. With the daring confidence of youth, she seized on the splendid, scduc tive role of Luerezia Borgia, without reflecting on the difticul- ties it presented — difticulties which only the powers of a Grisi could conquer. At that time Teresa was little more than fif- teen, and although of a tall, commanding figure, she Avas, of course, very girlish in aspect. It may easily be conjectured that her first assumption of tlie character of the haughty Duch- ess was not a complete success, yet it was for from proving a failure : she Avon applause, and was encouraged to persevere. On her second representation she was more confident, and her voice more mider her control ; she consequently met Avith the most flattering reception. She appeared night after night in 508 QUEENS OF SONG. the same opera, with iucredible success, until at length her rejjutation became firmly established. To perform Lucrezia Borgia successfully at fifteen was an augury of future triumph. Her first appearances were marked by a romantic interest. Mdlle. Tietjens happened to captivate a rich young gentleman, who offered her his hand, but required her to relinquish the stage. She refused to comply with this requisition, and reject- ed his offer of mariiage. Her father being dead, the young ar- tiste was then under the care of a guardian, and this gentleman strenuously urged the lover's suit. At last Teresa consented to retire for a time, on the understanding that if her inclina- tion for the profession should be as ardent as ever at the end of nine months, she should be permitted to reappear in public. On the expiration of the term of probation, the fair songstress again presented herself before the foot-lights, and her luckless lover disappeared. The director of the Royal Opera, Frankfort-on-the-Maine, having heai'd Mdlle. Tietjens at Hamburg, was so delighted with her splendid voice that he made her an offer to sing at his theatre ; she accepted his proposal, and went to Frankfort early in 1850. Her success in that city was brilliant and de- cided, and her rej^utation increased so greatly that she received offers of engagement from various European capitals. The di- rector of the Imperial Theatre of Vienna undertook a journey to Frankfort-on-the-Maine exj)ressly to hear the new singer, and, if possible, to secure the prize ; and her engagement with the Opera of Frankfort being about to expire, Mdlle. Tietjens gladly availed herself of the opportunity of singing in Vienna, where she made her debut at the Imperial Theatre in 1856. Her reception by a crowded audience was most enthusiastic. She appeared in the part of Donna Anna (in German) ; and at the fall of the curtain she was recalled no less than four times. The manager, finding that she was a success, at once secured her services for three consecutive seasons, and she became a great favorite in Vienna. Before the conclusion of the second season Mdlle. Tietjens had appeared in a number of leading operas : Worma, Les Huguenots, Lucrezia Borgia, Le Nozze di Figaro, Fidelio, and II Trovatore ; and, on the sudden in- disposition of another singer, she appeared in a light comic part, when she won golden opinions. Mr. Lumley, hearing of Mdlle. Tietjens and the sensation she ^ TERESA TIETJENS. 509 was creating, started without delay for Vienna, and made such regal propositions that no one could have resisted his over- tures. Unfortunately, the youthful cantatrice had signed an agreement with the director of the Vienna theatre for a term extending over three years, of which two only had then ex- pired. Mdlle. Tietjcns was therefore unable to accept Mr. Lumley's temf)ting offer ; but a negotiation was entered into, and an arrangement eventually made, which permitted her to come to England for three months, with the express under- standing that she was not to exceed that limit. Her Majesty's Theatre opened on the 13th of April, 1858, with Les Huguenots, when Mdlle. Tietjens made her first ap- pearance in London as Valentine, Giuglini taking the part of Raoul for the first time. A diflficulty presented itself to Mdlle. Tietjens in studying her part, as she did not understand Ital- ian ; but she nevertheless learnt her part by rote, and nobody would have suspected that she Avas not perfectly conversant with the meaning of every syllable she uttered. It was a dan- gerous experiment, but it proved successful. There was a crowded and fashionable audience, and the queen and prince consort were present. The voice of Mdlle. Tietjens is a pure soprano, fresh, pene- trating, even, and powerful; it is unusually rich in quality, extensive in compass, and of great flexibility; it has a bell-like resonance, and is capable of expressing all the passionate and tender accents of lyric tragedy. Teresa Tietjens is, in the tru- est, fullest sense of the word, a lyric artiste, and she possesses every requisite needed by a cantatrice of the highest order — personal beauty, physical strength, originality of conception, a superb voicc^ and inexhaustible spirit and energy. Like most German singers, Mdlle. Tietjens regards ornamentation as mere- ly an agreeable adjunct' Hi vocalization; and in the music of Valentine she sang only what the composer had set down — neither more nor less — but that Avas accomplished to perfec- tion. Iler performance of Valentine is irreproachable. I As an actress, her tall, stately, elegant figure is admirably / calculated to personate the tragic heroines of Opera. Her face (' is beautiful, her large eyes flash with intellect, and her classic- I al features are radiant with expression ; her grandeur of con- ception, her tragic dignity, her glowing warmth, and abandon, \ render her worthy of the finest days of lyric tragedy. She is 510 QUEENS OF SONG. thoroughly dramatic ; her movements and gestures are noble, and entirely free from conventionality ; her walk is easy, while her attitudes are classical without being in the least constrained. Her second jjart was that of Leonora, in II Trovatore^ which she has made her own. When she appeared as Donna Anna in Don Giovanni^ she took the house by storm by the mag- nificence of her singing and the intense dramatic force of her acting. The music of this opera suited her exactly. In June she appeared as Lucrezia Borgia. The qualities which this part demands are precisely those with which Mdlle. Tietjens is endowed — tragic power, intensity, impulsiveness. Her commanding figure and graceful bearing gave weight to her acting, while in the more tender scenes she was exquisite- ly pathetic, and displayed great depth of feeling. " Com' e bello" was rendered Avith thrilling tenderness, and the allegro which followed it created a furore : it was one of the most brilliant niorceaux of florid decorative vocalism heard for years, the upper C in the cadenza being quite electrical. At the end of the first and second acts, the heart-rending accents of a mother's agony, wrung from the depths of her soul, and the stern, haughty, scornful courage, and vengeful fierceness of the Borgia, were contrasted with consummate genius and harrow- ing truthfulness. Grisi herself never portrayed this great char- acter with more power. Mdlle. Tietjens also appeared as the Countess in Le Nozze di Figaro^ but with less marked success. To the regret of the London public, Mdlle. Tietjens was obliged to return to Vienna early in the autumn, to complete her engagement there, the manager refusing to extend her • conge. From Austria she went to Italy, with the object of acquiring facility in the Italian language, and she was there met by Mr. E. T. Smith, who instantly engaged her for his Italian Opera at Drury Lane Theatre. Mdlle. Tietjens inau- gurated her second London season by appearing May 3, 1859, \ in the part of Lucrezia Borgia; and having acquired a com- \ plete command of the Italian language, she sang and acted \ smore magnificently than ever, { Mdlle. Tietjens then appeared successively in II Trovatore, ' Don Giovanni, Les Suguenots, and Norma, which last she performed for the first time in England, achieving a triumph, though her performance was too much imbued with Teutonic TERESA TIETJEXS. 511 stiffness to bo unreservedly approved by the lovers of Italian opera. By her splendid singing, and the sustained grandeur and impassioned energy of her acting, she gained, however, the plaudits of the unprejudiced. July 26th she appeared in Verdi's Vepres Siciliennes. In this opera she " sang magnifi- cently, and acted with extraordinary vigor and passion." At the close of the fourth act, when Ilelene and Procida are led to the scaffold, the conflicting emotions that agitate the bosom of the heroine were pictured with wonderful truth and inten- sity by Mdlle. Tietjens. On the termination of the season, Mdlle. Tietjens, with Sig- nori Giuglini, Badiali, etc., appeared in Dublin, then at Man- chester, Liverpool, Leeds, Glasgow, Edinburgh, and other places. Wherever she sang, she met with the same brilliant success which had attended her in London and at the various musical festivals in England. Her fame increased every year with the development of her talents and skill. The season of 1860 at Her Majesty's Theatre opened, under the direction of Mr. E. T. Smith, with Flotow's Martha^ April 10th, when the principal characters were sustained by Mdlle. Tietjens, Ma- dame Lemaire, Giuglini, and Vialetti. This opera was not very successful, and it was replaced by II IVovatore, in which Mdlle. Tietjens was supported by Madame Borghi Mamo, Giu- ghni, and Vialetti. April 1 7th, Mdlle. Tietjens appeared as Lucrezia Borgia. She was grander, and sang more superbly than ever in this part. May 5th, she performed Donna An- na, Madame Borghi Mamo being the Zerlina. N'orma was brought out three days later. The wondrous German canta- trice had singularly improved in this character, and her sing- ing of "Casta Diva" was surprising. She essayed the part of Semiramidc for the first time. May 22d. Although her exces- sive anxiety to acquit herself well in her difticult task impeded the full exercise of her powers, her performance of the charac- ter was splendid. Her singing, though at times gorgeous and magnificent, was not always perfect; but her acting was grand, powerful, and picturesque in the extreme. " In Tietjens's Scmiramide," says a critic, "her intellectuali- ty shines most from its contrasting with the part she imper- sonates — a part Avhich in itself nowise assists her ; but, as in a picture, shadow renders a light more striking. In the splen- did aria ' Bel raggio,' the solfeggi and fioriture that she lavish- 512 QUEENS OP SONG. ed on the audience were executed with such marvelous tone and precision that she electrified the house. The grand duet with Albonij ' Giorno d'orrore,' was exquisitely and nobly im- pressive, from their dramatic interj^retation of the scene." Mdlle.Tietjens performed also mLes Huguenots and in Oheron. It is hardly necessary to advert to the triumphs of Mdlle. Tietjens at the Crystal Palace Concerts. In 1861 Mr. Maple- son took the Lyceum Theatre for a short season, commencing, June 8, with II Trovatore. Mdlle. Tietjens was the prima donna, Madame Alboni the contralto, Signor Giuglini the ten- or. " Tietjens is the most superb Leonora, without a single exception, that the Anglo - Italian stage has witnessed," ob- serves one admiring critic. Verdi's Tin Hallo in Maschera was produced June 15, for the first time in this country, and was a triumphant success. Mdlle. Tietjens appeared to the ut- most advantage as the energetic heroine, Amelia. She sang and acted her part magnificently, and her singing throughout the entire of the third act was pronounced one of her greatest achievements. This season was a very arduous one for Mdlle. Tietjens, as well as for her comrade, Signor Giuglini ; for they had to sing at the Lyceum three, and sometimes four times a week, besides singing at the Crystal Palace on Fridays, and iat various morning and evening concerts. The principal ojDeras were II Trovatore, Liicrezia Borgia, Martha, Les Huguenots, Norma, and Don Giovanni. Mdlle. Tietjens was now accepted as the successor of Grisi, though no two artistes could be more unlike in many respects than the Italian and German singers. "But," one critic justly remarks, "in passionate feeling, energy, power of voice, and grandeur of style, a comj)arison may be established. In cer- tain characters Grisi has left no one to fill her place. These will be found mostly in Rossini's operas, such as Semiramide, Ninetta, Desdemona, Pamira {HAssedio cU Corinto), Elene, etc., to which we may add Elvira in I Puritani, written ex- pressly for her. In not one of these parts has any body crea- ted an impression since she sang them. They all belong to the repertoire of pure Italian song, of which Giulietta Grisi was undoubtedly the greatest mistress since Pasta. That Mdlle. Tietjens could not contend with her on her own Ausonian soil no one will deny. Her means, her compass, her instincts, all forbade. There is, however, one exception — Norma, in TERESA TIETJENS. 513 which the German singer may challenge comparison with the Italian, and in which slie occasionally surpasses her. In the French and German repertoire the younger artiste has a de- cided advantage over the elder, in possessing a voice of such extent as to be enabled to execute the music of the composers without alteration of any kind. Every body knows that Mdlle. Tietjens has not only one of the most magnificent and power- ful voices ever heard, but also one of the most extraordinary in compass. To sing the music of Donna Anna, Fidelio, Valen- tine, etc., without transposition or change, and to sing it with power and effect, is granted to few artistes. Mdlle. Tietjens is one of these great rarities, and therefore, without any great stretch of compliment, we may assert that, putting aside the Rossinian repertoire, she is destined to wear the mantle of Grisi." In no previous season was Mdlle. Tietjens so poptilar or so much admired as during the season of 1802. Her most remark- able performance was the character of Alice, in Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable. " Mdlle. Tietjens's admirable personation of Alice," observes the critic of a leading daily paper, " must raise her to a still higher rank in public estimation than that she has hitherto so long sustained. Each of the three acts in which the German soprano was engaged won a separate tri- umph for her. We are tired of perpetually expatiating on the splendid brightness, purity, and clearness of her glorious voice, and on the absolute certainty of her intonation ; but these mere physical requisites of a great singer are in themselves most un- common. Irrespectively of the lady's clever vocalization, and of the strong dramatic impulse which she evinces, there is an actual sensual gratification in listening to her sujicrb voice sing- ing with immovable certainty in perfect tune. Her German education, combined with long practice in Italian opera, pecul- iarly fit Mdlle. Tietjens for interpreting the music of Meyer- beer, who is equally a disciple of both schools." All the journals agreed in praising with raptui-e this superb performance. From the delicious romance, " Va, dit-clle," to the final trio, her singing and her acting were unrivaled since the days of Jenny Lind. Her glorious voice thrilled through the house in a flood of rich melody, and never was her intona- tion more unerring, more faultless. Her Norma was more splendid than ever. The rendering of "Casta Diva" was ex- 33 Y 2 514 QUEENS OF SONG. quisitely refined, and in the final duet with Pollio she produced a sensation unequaled since the golden days of Giulia Grisi. During the present season — 1863 — the popular German prima donna has performed at Her Majesty's Theatre. j In private life Mdlle. Tietjens is much beloved and esteem- '] ed. She is exceedingly kind and generous in disposition, and •| amiable in character. j CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF OPERAS AND THEIR COMPOSERS. i LULLt. Cadmus. Paris, July, 1673. Alceste. January, 1674. Thesee. February 3, 1675. Atys. January 10, 1676. Isis. January 5, 1677. Bellerophon. January 29, 1679. Proserpine. 1680. P>vche. 1682. P.'acton. April 17, 1683. A;nadis. January 15, 1684. Ruland. March 8, 1685. Armide. February 15, 1686. La Grotte de Versailles. 1701. Iphigenie. May 6, 1704. PURCELL. Dido and Eneas. 1677. The Tempest. 1690. King Arthur; The Indian Queen ; Tyrannic Love ; The Prophetess. 1691. Bonduca; Don Quixote. 1095. SCARLATTI. L'Onesta nell' Amore. Rome, 1680. Pompeo. Naples, 1084. Teodora. Rome, 1693. Odoacre. Naples, 1694. Pirro e Demetrio. Naples, 1697. II Prigioniero Fortunato. 1698. II Prigioniero Superbo. 1699. Gli Equivoclii nel Sembiantc. 1 700. Le Nozzo co'l Nemico. II Mitridate Eupatore. Laodicea c Berenice. Naples, 1701. II Figlio dclle Selve. 1702. II Trionfo della Liberia. 1707. II Medo. 1708. II Martirio di Santa Cecilia. 1709. II Teodoro. Naples, 1 709. Giro Riconosciuto. Rome, 1712. Porsenna. Naples, 1713. Scipione nelle Spagne. Naples,1714. L'Amor Gencroso. Naples, 1714, Arminio. Naples, 1714. II Tigrane. Naples, 1715. Carlo, Re d'Allemagna. 1716. La Virtii trionfante dell' Odio e dell' Amore. Naples, 1716. II Trionfo dell' Onore. Naples, 1718. IlTelemacco. Rome, 1718. Attilio Regolo. Rome, 1719. Tito Sempronico Gracco. 1720. Tumo Aricinio. Rome, 1720. La Principessa Fedele. Rome, 1721. Griselda. Rome, 1721. Didone Abbandonata. La Caduta dei Decemviri. 1723. HANDEL. Almira. Hamburg, 1704. Nero. Hamburg, 1705. Daphne; Florida; Roderigo. 1706. Agrippina. Venice, 1707. Pyrrhus. 1708. Silla. Rinaldo. London, 1710. Pastor Fido. 1712. Teseo. 1713. Amadigi. 1715. Radamisto. 1720. Muzio Scaevola. 1721. Floridante. 1721. Ottone ; Giulio Cesare. 1723. Tamerlane. Ilodelinda. 1725. Alexander; Scipio. 1726. Admetus ; Ricardo Primo. 1727. Siroe; Tolomeo. 1728. Lothario. 1729. Parthenope. 1730. Poro. 1731. Acis and Galatea. London, 1731. iEtius (or Ezio). London, 1732. Sosarme; Orlando. 1732. Arianna. 1734. Ariodante ; Alcina. 1735. Atalanta. Giustino; Arminio; Berenice. 1737. Faramondo ; Serse. 1738. LIST OF OPERAS. Jupiter in Argos. Im.eneo. 1740. Deidamia. 1741. 1739. VINCI. La Silla Dillatore. 1719. Le Feste Napolitane. 1721. Semiramide Riconosciuta, Rome ; Rosmira Fedele ; Sii-oe. 1723. Farnace, Venice ; Caduta de' Decem- viri. Naples, 1724. Astianatte ; Ifigenia in Tauride. Venice, 1725. Catone in Utica ; Asteria. 1726. 7' Bigismondo, Re di Polonia. 1727. Niidro neir Indie, Naples ; Di- bbandonata, Rome. 1729. HASSE. mswick, 1723. nles, 1726. ..itinia. Naples, 1728. Dalisa. .ice, 1730. Artaserse. Venice, 1730. Arminio. Milan, 1731. Cleofide. Dresden, 1731. Cajo Fabrizio. Rome, 1731. Demetrio. Venice, 1732. Alessandro nell' Indie. Mil.an, 1732. Catone in Utica. Turin, 1732. Euristeo. Warsaw, 1733. Asteria. Dresden, 1734. Senocrita. Dresden, 1736. Atalanta. Dresden, 1737. La Clemenzadi Tito. Dresden, 1737. Alfonso. Dresden, 1738. Irene. Dresden, 1738. Demetrio. Dresden, 1739. Artaserse. Dresden, 1740. Olimpia in Eruda. London, 1740. Numa Tompilio. Dresden, 1741. Lncio Papirio. 1742. Didone Abbandonata. 1742. L'Asilo d'Amore. 1743. Antigono. 1744. Arminio. 1745. LaSpartana; Semiramide. 1747. Demofoonte. 1748. U Natale di Giove. 1749. Attilio Regolo. 1750. Giro Riconosciuto. 1751. Ipermestra ; Leucippo. 1751. Solimanno. 1752. Adriano in Siria. 1752, Arminio. 1753. Artemisia. 1754. L'Olimpiade. 1756. Nitetti. 1759. II Trionfo di Clelia. Dresden, 1761. Siroe. Vienna, 1763. Zenobia. Vienna, 1763. Romolo ed Ersilia. Innspruck, 1765. Partenope. Vienna, 1767. Ruggiero. Milan, 1770. GALUPPI. Gli Amici Rivali. 1722. La Fede nell' Incostanza. Dorindo. 1729. Odio Placato. 1730. Argenside. 1733. Arabizione Depressa. 1735. Elisa, Regina di Tiro. 1736. La ninfa Apollo. Tamiri. Ergilda. Avilda. 1737. Gustavo I. Re di Swieza. 1740. Aronte, Re de' Sciti. Berenice. 1741. Madame Ciana. 1744. L'Ambizione Delusa. La Liberia Nociva. Forze d'Amore. 1745. Scipione uelle Spagne. 1746. Arminio. 1747. Arcadio in Brento. 1749. II Page della Cucagna. 1750. Arcifanfo, Re di Matti. Alcimena, Principessa dell' Isolc For- tunate. II Mondo della Luna. La Mascherata. 1751. Ermelinda. 1752. II Mondo alia Rovescia. II Centi Caramela. Le Virtuose Ridicole. Calamita de' Cuori. I Bagni d'Abono. 1753. II Filosofo di Campagna. 1754. Antigona. II Povero Superbo. Alessandro nell' Indie. 1755. La Diavolessa. Nozze di Paride. 1756. Le Nozze. Sesostri. 1757. Adriano in Sirio. 1760. L'Amante di Tutti. Artaserse. I tre Amanti Ridicoli. Ipermestra. ^ . LIST OF OPERAS. 517 Antigono. 1702. II MarchesG Villano. Viriate. L'Uonio Femmina. II Puntiglio Amoroso. II Hh alia Caccio. Cajo Mario. ITGl. La Donua di Goverao. 1764r. PORPORA.* Ariana e Tesco. Naples, 1717. Eum^ne. Rome, 1722. Issipele. Rome, 1723. Germanico. Rome, 1725. Imeneo in Alene. Venice, 1726. Sifiice. Venice, 1726. Meride e Sclinunte. Venice, 1727. Ezio. Venice, 1728. Semiramide Riconosciuta ; Tamer- lano. Dresden, 1730. Alessandro nelle Indie ; Annibale ; Arbace. Venice, 1732. Polvplip " ■ Ifigenia in Aulide ; Ro- salb"- a? ^- 'f, Statir, r^^=^^p^gp ■; Temisi " "^g Le Noz/' ^ 44. IlTrion- v Sofonisba. , L'Olimpiade. i.^... La Clemenza di Tito. 1735, Achille in Sciro. 1740. (ENGi.isn Ballad Opeka.) The Beggar's Opera. {Gay.) Lon- don, January, 1728. Paris, 1733. RAMEAU. Hippolytc ct Aricic. Castor ct Pollux. 1737. Dardanus. Paris, November 19,1739, Pygmalion. 1747. Samson. 1747. Zorastre. 1749. Acante et Ce'phise. 1752. Les Surprises do I'Amour. 1757. ARNE. Rosamond. 1733. Opera of Operas. 1733. Zara. 1736. Comus. 1738. 1749. February 2, 1762. The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green. Fall of Phaeton. King Pepin's Campaign. The Temple of Dulness. January 17, 1745. Don Saverio. Britannia. Elisa. 1750. Cymon. Artaxerxes. Elfrida. King Arthur. The Guardian Outwitted. L'Olimpiade. April 25, 1765. The Birth of Hercules. 1766. Achilles in Petticoats. Thomas and Sally. The Ladies' Frolick. 17' PERGOLESE. II Maestro di IMusica. II Geloso Schernito. L'Olimpiade. Rome, 1735. La Contadina. La Serva Padrone. Paris, 1752. Amor fa I' Homo Cicco. Recimero. JOMELLI. L'En-oi-e Amoroso. Naples, 1737. Odoardo. Naples, 1738. Ricimero. Rome, 1740. Astiannasse. Rome, 1741. II Frastullo. Sofonisba. Ciro Riconosciuto. Achille in Sciro. Vienna, 1745. Didone. Vienna, 1745. Eumcne. Naples, 1746. Merope. Venice, 1747. Ezio. Naples, 1 748. L'Incantato. Rome, 1749. Ifigenia in Tauride. Rome, 1751. Talestri. Rome, 1751. Attilio Regolo. Rome, 1752. Semiramide. Bajazettc. Dcmetrio. Penelope. Stuttgart. Enea nel Lazio. Stuttg.irt, 1755. II Re Pastore. Stuttgart. Alessandro nell' Indie. Stuttgart. Nitctti. Stuttgart. La Clemenza di Tito. Stuttgart. • Porpora produced (accordinj titles have not been preserved. ; to Dr. Burney) more than fifty operas altogether, but the 518 LIST OF OPEKAS. Deraofoonte. Stuttgart. II Fedonte. Stuttgart. L'Isola Disabilita. Stuttgart. Endimione. Stuttgart. Vologeso. Stuttgart. L'Olimpiade. Stuttgart. La Schiava Liberta. Stuttgart. L'Asilo d'Amore. Stuttgart. La Pastorella Illustra. Stuttgart. II Cacciator Deluso. Stuttgart. II Matrimonio per Concorso. Stutt- gart. Armide. Naples, 1771. Ifigenia in Aulidc. Naples, 1775. GLUCK. Artaxerxcs. Milan, 1742. Demetrio. Venice, 1742. Fall of the Giants.* London. L'Arbre Enchante. Paris, 1745. La Cytliere Assie'gee. Paris, 1745. Telemaco. Orfeo ed Euridice. Vienna, Oct. 5, 1762. Iphigene en Aulide. Paris, 1774. Orphee. Paris, April 19, 1774. Alceste. Paris, April 23, 1776. Armide. Paris, January 17, 1779. Iphigenie en Tauride. Paris, May 18, 1779. Echo et Narcisse. Paris, Sept. 24, 1779. SARTI. Pompeo in Arminia. 1752. II Re Pastore. 1752. Medonte. Florence. Demofoonte. L'Olimpiade. Giro Riconosciuto. Copenhagen, 1756. La Figlia Ricuperata. La Giardiniera Brillante. 1758. Mitridate. Parma, 1765. II Vologeso. 1765. La Nitetti. 1765. Ipermestra. Rome, 1766. I Contratempi. Venice, 1767. Didone. 17G7. Semiramide Riconosciuta. 1768. I Pretendenti Delusi. 1768. II Calzolajo di Strasburgo. Modena, 1769. Cleomenc. 1770. La Clemenza di Tito. Padua, 1771. La Contadina Fedelc. 1771. I Finti Eredi. 1773. Le Gelosie Villane. 1776. Farna9e. 1776. L'Avaro. 1777. Ifigenia in Aulide. 1777. Epponiraa. Turin, 1777. II Militare Bizzarro. 1778. Gli Amanti Consolati. 1779. Fra i due litiganti il terzo gode, 1780. Scipione. 1780. Achille in Sciro. Florence, 1781. LTncognito. Bologna, 1781. Giulio Sabino. Venice, 1781. Alessandro e Timoteo. 1782. Le Nozze di Dorina. 1782. Siroe. Turin, 1783. Idalide. Milan, 1783. I Rivali Delusi. London, Tuesdav, Jan. 6, 1784. Armida e Rinaldo. St. Petersburg, 1785. La Gloire du Nord. 1794. MONSIGNY. La Servante Maitresse. 1754. Aveux Indiscrets. Paris, 1759. Le Maitre en Droit. Paris, 1760. Le Cadi Dupe. Paris, 1760. On ne s'avise jamais de tout. Sej)t. 17, 1761. Le Roi et le Ferraier. 1762. Rose et Colas. 1764. LTle Sonnante. 1768. La Reine de Golconde. Paris, July 4, 1779. Le Deserteur. 1779. Le Faucon. 1772. La Belle Arsene. Le Rendezvous bien Employe. 1776. Felix; ou, I'Enfant Trouve'. 1777. PAISIELLO. La Pupilla. Bologna. 1763. II Mondo alia Roverscia. Bologna. La Madama Umorista. Modena. Demetrio. Modena. Artaserse. Modena. Le Virtuose Ridicole. Parma. II Negligente. Parma. I Bagni di Abano. Parma. II Ciarlone. Venice. L'Amore in Ballo. Venice. Le Pescatrici. Venice. • In addition to tlie Fall of the Giants, Gliick composed about forty-fire operas during hia stay in London (1T45 to 1763). LIST OF OPERAS. 519 II Marchese Tulipano. Kome. La Vcdova di Bel Genio. Naples. L'Imbroglio dclle Ragazze. Naples. L'Idolo Cinese. Naples. Lucio Papirio. Naples. II Furbo mal accorto. Naples. Olimpia. Naples. L'Innocente Fortunato. Venice. Sismanno nel Mogola. Milan. L'Arabo Cortese. Naples. La Luna Abitata. Naples. La Contessa del Numi. Naples. Semiramide. Milan. II Montesuma. Milan. Le Dardane. Naples. II Tamburo Notturno. Andromeda. Milan. Annibale in Italia. Turin. I Filosofi. Turin. II Giocatore. Turin. La Somiglianza dei Nomi. Naples. Le Astuzie Amorose. Naples. Gli Scherzi d'Amorc e di Fortuna. Naples. Dora Chisciotta della Mancia. Na- ples. La Finta Maga. Naples. L'Osteria di Mere-Chiaro. Naples. Alessandro nell' Indie. Modena. II Duello Comico. Naples. Done Anchise Dampanone. Naples. II Mondo della Luna. Naples. La Frascatana. Venice. La Discordia Fortunata. Venice. II Demofoonte. Venice. I Socrati Imaginari. Naples. II Gran Cid. Florence. II Finto Principe. Florence. Le Due Contessc. Rome, 1777. La Disfatta di Dario. Rome, 1777. La Serva Padrona. St. Petersburg. II Matrimonio Inaspettato. St. Pe- tersburg. II Barbicrc di Scviglia. St. Peters- burg. I Filosofi Imaginari. St. Petersburg. La Finta Amantc. Poland. II Mondo della Luna. Moscow. La Nitetti. St. Petersburg. Lucinda cd Artcmidoro. St. Petcre- burg. St. Petersburg. St. Petersburg. Vienna. Alcide al Birio. Achille in Sciro. II Re Teodoro. Antigone. Naples. L'Amore Ingenioso. Rome, 1785. La Grotta di Trofonio. Naples. Le Gare Generose. Naples. L'Olimpiade. Naples. II Pirro. Naples. Gli Schiave per Amore. London, April 24, 1787. I Zingari in Fiera. Naples. La Fedra. Naples. Le Vane Gelosie. Naples. Catone in Utica. Naples. Nina ; o, la Pazza d'Amore. Zenobia di Palmira. Naples. La Locanda. La CulBara. Naples. La Molinara. Naples. La Modista Raggiratrice. Naples. Elfrida. Naples. Elvira. Naples. I Vision ari. Naples. L'Inganno Felice. Naples. I Giuochi d'Agrigente. Venice. La Didone. Naples. L'Andromacca. Naples. La Contadina di Spirito. Naples. Proserpina. Paris, 1803. I Pittagorici. Naples. SACCHINI. Semiramide. Rome. Eumene. Rome. Andromacca. Naples. Artaserse. Rome, 1762. Alessandro nelle' Indie. Venice, 1 768. Scipione in Cartagine. Padua, 1770. Ezio. Naples. Nicostrate. Alessandro Severe. L'Adriano in Siria. L'Eroe. Cinese. Munich, 1771. Cailirhoe. Stuttgart, 1772. Armida. Milan, 1772. II Gran Cid. Rome, January, 1 773. L'Amore in Campa. Tamerlano. London, February, 1773. Vologeso. Naples, 1773. La Contadina in Corte. Rome. LTsola d'Amore. L'Olimpiade. Milan. Lucio Vero. Naples, December, 1 773. Nitetti. London, 1774. Perseo. London, 1776. L'Amore Soldato. London, 1777. Creso. London, January 2, 1778. Erifile. London, February 6, 1 778. II Calandrino. London, 1778. 520 LIST OF OPERAS. Enea e Lavinia. 1779. Renaiid, Chimeae (adaptations of for- mer operas). Armide. Paris, March, 1783. Dardanus. Paris, 1784. CEdipe a, Colonne. Paris, 1785. Arvire et Eveliua. Paris, 1787. (English Ballad Opeea.) Love in a Village. {Bicherstaff.) London, December 3, 1763. GOSSEC. Le Faux Lord. 17G4. Les Pechcurs. 1766. Toinon et Toinette. 1767. Le Double Deguisement. Sabinus. Paris, 1773. Alexis et Daphne. 1775. Phile'mon et Baucis. 1775. Hylas et Sylvie. 1776. La Fete du Village. 1778. These'e. Paris, March 1, 1782. La Reprise de Toulon. 1786. GRETRY. Le Vendemiatrice. Eome, 1765. Les Mariages Samnites. Le Huron. Paris, August 20, 1768. Lucile. Paris, 1769. Le Tableau Parlant. Paris, 1769. Isabella et Gertrude. Geneva, 1769. Zemire et Azor. November, 1771. Ce'phale et Procris. 1775. Le Seigneur Bienfesant. Paris, 1780. Andromaque. Paris, June 6, 1780. La Double Epreuve ; ou, Colette a la Cour. Paris, January 1, 1782. L'Embarras des Richesses. Paris, November 26, 1782. La Caravane. 1783. Panurge. Paris, January 25, 1785. Amphytrion. 1786. Denis le Tyran. 1794. Anacre'on. 1797. Richard Cceur de Lion. ARNOLD. The Maid of the Mill. January 31, 1765. Rosamond. 1767. The Castle of Andalusia. 1782. Peeping Tom. 1784. Here, There, and Everywhere. 1784. Two to One. 1785. Turk and no Turk. 1785. The Siege of Ciirzola. 178G. Inkle and Yarico. Saturday, Aug. 4, 1787. The Enraged Musician. 1788. Battle of Hexham. 1789. New Spain. 1790. The Basket Maker. 1790. The Surrender of Calais. 1791. The Children in the "Wood. 1793. Auld Robin Gray. 1794. Zorinski. 1795. The Mountaineers. 1795. Who Pays the Reckoning ? 1795. Bannian Day. 1796. The Shipwreck. 1796. The Italian Monk. 1797. False and True... 1798. Cambro-Britons. 1798. The Veteran Tar. 1801. MOZART. Mitridate. 1767. Lucia Silla. Salzburg, 1773. Zaide. La Finta Giardiniera. Munich, 1775. Idomeneo, Re di Creta. Munich, 1780. Die Entfuhrung. Vienna, 1782. Le Nozze di Figaro. Vienna, April 128,1786. D^n Giovanni. Prague, Nov. 4, 1787. Cosi fan Tutte. 1790. Die Zauberflijte. 1791. La Clemenza di Tito. 1791. ANFOSSI, Cajo Mario. Venice, 1769. La Clemenza di Tito. Rome, 1769. II Visionari. Rome, 1771. II Barone di Rocca. Rome, 1772. L'Incognita per Seguitata, Rome ; Antigono, Venice ; Demofoonte, Rome. 1773. Lucio Silla, Venice ; La Finta Giar- diniera, Rome. 1774. II Geloso in Cimento, Eolne ; La Con- tadina in Corte ; L'Avaro. 1775 Isabella e Rodrigo, o la Costanza in Amore ; La Pescatrice Fedele ; L'Olirapiade, Rome. 1776. II Curioso Indiscreto ; Lo Sposo Dis- perato ; Cleopatra. Milan, 1778. II Matrimonio per Inganno. Paris, 1779. La Forza delle Donne. Milan, 1780. I Vecchi Burlati. London, 1781. LIST OF OPERAS. 521 I Viaggiatori Felici, London; Ar- mida. 1782. Gli Amanti Canuti, Dresden ; II Tri- onfo d'Ariana, Prague ; II Cava- liere per Amore, Berlin ; Chi cerca trova, Florence. 1784. Didone Abbandonata. Naples. La Vedova Scaltra. 1785. La Fiera dell' Ascensione ; L'lmbrog- lio delle tre Spose, Padua. 1786. La Pazzia de' Gelosi ; Creso, Rome ; La Villanella di Spirito, Rome. 1787. Artaserse, Rome ; L'Orfanella Amer- icana, Venice ; La maga Circe, Rome; Le Gelosie Fortunate. 1788. La Gazetta ossia il Baggiano deluso. Rome, 1789. Zenobia in Palmira. Florence, 1 790. Issifile. 1791. II Zottico incivilito. Dresden, 1792. L'Amcricana in Olanda ; La Matilda ritrovata ; Gli Artigiani. SALIERI. Le Donne Letterate. 1770. L' Amore Innocente. 1770. Armida. 1771. II Don Chisciotte. 1771. II Barone di Rocca Antica. 1772. La Fiera di Venezia. 1772. La Seccliia Rapita. 1772. La Locandiera. 1773. La Calamita de' Dori. 1774. La Finta Scema. 1775. Delmita e Daliso. 177G. Europa Riconosciuta. 1776. La Scuola de' Gelosi. 1779. II Talismanno. 1779. La Partenza Inaspettata. 1779. La Dam a Pastorclla. 1780. Dcr Rauclifangkehrer. 1781. Les Danaides. 178i. Semiramide. 1784. II Ricco d'un Giorno. 1784. Eraclito e Democrito. 1785. La Grotto di Trifonio. 1785. Les Horaces. 1786. Tarare. 1787. Axur, Re d'Ormus. 1788. Cublai, Gran Can de' Tartan. 1788. II Pastor Fido. 1789. La Princcssc de Babvlonc. Paris, 1789. La Cifra. 1789. Sapho. Paris, 1790. Catalina. 1792. , II Mondo alia Rovescia. 1794. Palmira. 1795. II Moro. 1796. Falstaff. 1798. Danaus. 1800. Cesare in Farmacusa. 1800. Angiolina. 1800. Annibale in Capua. 1801. La Bella Selvaggia. 1802. Die Negcr. 1804. HAYDN. Le Diable Boiteux. Vienna. La Cantarina. 17G9. Phile'mon et Baucis. 1773. Genevieve de Brabant. 1777. Didon. 1778. Le Volcur des Pommes. 1779. Le Conseil des Dieux. 1780. L'Incendie. Der Zerstreute. Goetz de Berlichingcn. L'Incontro Improviso. Lo Spcziale. La Pescatrice. 1780. II Mondo della Inna. L'Isola Disabitata. Armida. 1782. L'Infedelta Fedele. La Fedelta Prcmiata. La Vera Castanza. 1786. Acide e Galatea. Orlando Paladino. L'Infedelta Deluso. Orfeo. London, 1794. Didone Abbandonata. London. JOHN CHRISTIAN BACH. Catone. Milan, 1 758. London, 1763. London, 1763. London, 1764. in yiria. London, Jan. Orione. Zanaide. Berenice Adriano 1765. Ezio. London, 1765 26, 1' 67. 1769. Carattaco. L'Olimpiadc. Orfeo. 1770. Tcmistocle. Siface. Lucio Silla. La Clemenza di Scipione. Amadis de Gaule. Paris, Dec. 14, 1779. 522 LIST OF OPEEAS. MARTINI. L'Amoureux de Quinze Ans. 1771. Le Fermier Cru Sourd. 1772. Le Rendez-vous Nocturne. 1773. Henri IV; ou, la Bataille d'lvry. 1774. Le Droit da Seigneur, 1783. L'Amant Sylplie ; Saplio. 1794. Annette et Lubin. 1800. NAUMANN. Achille in Scire. Palermo, 1767. Alessandro nelF Indie. Venice, 1768. La Clemenza di Tito. Dresden, 1769. Le Nozze disturbate, Venice; Soli- manno. 1772. L'Isola disabitata; Armida, Padua; Ipermestra, Venice; II Villano Gelo- so, Dresden ; L'Ipocondriaco, Dres- den; Elisa, Dresden; Osiride ; Tut- to per Amore, Dresden ; Amphion, Stockholm ; Cora. Gustavus Vasa, Stockholm, 1780. La Reggia d'lmeneo, Dresden; Or- phe'e et Eurjdice, Copenhagen. 1785. La Dama Soldato. Dresden, 1791. Amor Giustificato. Dresden, 1791. Protesilao. Berlin, 1793. Andromeda ; Acis e Galatea, Dres- den, 1801. REICHARDT. Hanschen und Gretchen ; La Lan- terne Magique de I'Amour. Le Bucheron. 1775. Le Sesse Galanti, Potsdam. La Gioia dopo il duolo. Berlin, 1776. Ariencisia; Andromeda; Protesilao. Berlin, 1778. Ino. 1779. Procris et Ce'phale. 1780. L'Amour seul rend heureux. 1781. Panthe'e. 1786. Brenno. Berlin, 1787. Claudine de Villa Bella. 1788. Lilla; L'Olimpiade ; Ervin et El- mire. 1790. Tamerlan, Berlin ; LTle Sonnante, ou des Esprits. 1799. Piosamunda, Berlin ; Amour et Fide'- lite', Berlin ; Jery et Bately ; L'Art et I'Amour. 1801. Le Chateau Enchante'. 1802. L'Heureux Naufrage, Cassel ; Brada- mante, Vienna. 1808. CIMAROSA. II Fitter Parigino. Rome, 1776, I Due Baroni. Rome, 1776. I Finti Nobili. Naples, 1777. L'Armida Immaginaria. Naples, 1777, Gl' Amanti Comici. Naples, 1777, II Ritorno di Don Calandrino. 1779. Cajo Mario. Rome, 1779. II Mercato de' Malmantile. 1779. L'Assalonte. 1779. La Giuditta. Florence, 1779. L'Infedelta Fedele. 1780. II Falegname. 1780. L'Amante combattuto dalle Donne Dispunto. Naples, 1780. Alessandro nell' Indie. Rome, 1781. Artaserse. Turin, 1781. II Conovito di Pietra. Venice, 1782. La Ballerina Amante. 1783. Nina e Martuffo. 1783. La Villana Riconosciuta, 1783. Oreste, 1783. L'Erre Cinese. Naples, 1783. Olimpiade. Vicenza, 1784. I Due Supposti Conti. 1784. Giannina e Bernadino. Naples, 1785. II Marito Disperato. 1785. IlCredulo. 1785, La Donna al peggior si appigli, 1786, Le Trame Deluse. 1786. L'Impresario in Augustie. 1786. II Fanatico Burlato. 1786. II Sacrifizio d'Abramo. Naples, 1786. II Valdomiro. Turin, 1787. La Vergine del Sole. Milan, 1787. La Felicita Inaspettata. La Locandiera. London, Jan. 15, 1788. Atene Edificata. Ninetta. London, Januaiy 16, 1790. II Matrimonio Segreto. Vienna, 1792. La Calamita de' Cuori. 1792. Amor Rende Sagace. Vienna, 1792. I Traci Amanti. 1793. Astuzie Feminili. 1793. Penelope. Naples, 1793. L'Impegno Superato. Naples. II Capricio Dramatico. London, March 1, 1794. I Nemici Generosi. Rome, 1796. Gl' Orazi ed i Curiazi. Venice, 1797. Achille air Assedio di Troia, 1798. L'Apprensivo Raggirato. Naples, 1798. LIST OF OPEEAS. 523 SHIELD. The Flitch of Bacon. 1778. Rosina. January 1, 1783. The Poor Soldier. 1783. Kobin Hood; or, Sherwood Forest. April, 1784. The Noble Peasant. August 4, 1784. Fontainebleau ; or. Our Way in France. Nov. 16, 1784. The Nunnery. Love in a Camp ; or, Patrick in Prus- sia. February 22, 178G. Marian. Thursday, May 22, 1788. The Farmer. January, 1788. The Prophet. December 13, 1788. The Crusade. 1790. The Woodman. 1791. Hartford Bridge. 1792. Midnight Wanderers. 1793. Travellers in Switzerland. 1794. Mysteries of the Castle. 1795. Arrived at Portsmouth. January 13, 1796. Lock and Key. Tuesday, Feb. 2,1796. The Lad of the Hills ; or, the Wick- low Gold Mine. April 9, 179G. Abroad and at Home. November 9, 1796. Italian Villagers. 1797. Two Faces under a Hood. 1807. PICCINI.* Le Donne Dispctose. Florence. Le Gclosie. Florence. II Curioso del Proprio Danno. Flor- ence. Zenobia. Florence, 1756. Alessandro nell' Indie. Komc, 1758. Cecchina. Rome. L'Olimpiade. Roland. Paris, Tuesday, Jannaiy 27, 1778. La Sposa Collcrica. Paris, Oct. 20, 1778. Le Fat Mcprise'. 1779. Lucette. Atys. Paris, Tuesday, February 22, 1780. Didon. 1783. Le Dormeur Eveille'e. 1783. Le Faux Lord. 1783. Diane ct Endvmiou. 1784. Penelope. 1785. Le Mensonge Officieux. 1787. CHERUBINI. Quinto Fabio. 1780. Armida. Florence, 1782. Messenzio. Florence, 1782. Adriano in Siria. Leghorn, 1782. Lo Sposo di tre Femine. Home, 1783. L'Idatide. Florence, 1784. Alessandro nell' Indie. Mantua, 1784. La Finta Principessa. London, May 2, 1785. Giulio Sabino. London, March 30, 1786. Ifigenia in Aulide. Turin, 1788. De'mophoon. Paris, 1788. Lodoiska. Paris, 1791. Elisa. Paris, 1794. Mede'e. Paris, 1797. L'Hotellerie Portugaise. Paris, 1798. La Punition. Paris, 1799. La Prisonniere. Paris, 1799. Les Deux Journe'es. Paris, 1800. Anacreon. 1803. Achille k Syros. Vienna, 1806. Pimmalione. Paris, 1809. La Crescendo. 1810. Les Courses de Newmarket. 1810. Les Abencerrages. Paris, 1813. Bayard a Mczieres. 1814. Blanche de Provence. 1821. Ali Baba. Paris, July, 1833. VOGLER. Der Kaufmann von Smirna ; Albert der Drittc von Bayerk. Munich, 1781. Egle. Stockholm, 1787. La Karmesse. Paris, 1783. Castor ct Pollux, Mannheim ; Gus- tavo Adolphe, Stockliolm. 1791. Samori. Vienna, 1804. ZINGARELLI. Montezuma. Naples, 1781. L'Alsiiida. Milan, 1785. II Telemacco. Milan, 1 785.. Rocimero. Venice, 1785. Armida. Rome, 1786. Ifigenia in Aulide. 1787. Annibale. Turin, 1 787. Antigone. Paris, 1789. La Morte de Cesare. Milan, 179 1. L'Oracolo Sannito. Turin, 1792. Pirro. Turin, 1792. * Before hi ; arrival in Paria (17T6) Piccini had already composed one hundred and thirty- three operas. 524 LIST OF OPERAS. II Mercato di Monfregoso. Turin, 1793. La Seccliia Rapita. Turin, 1793. Artaserse. Milan (Za Scala), 1794. GF Orazied i Curiazi. Turin, 179-1. Apelle e Campaspe. Venice, 1794. 11 Conte di Saldagna. Venice, 1795. Romeo e Giuletta. Milan, 1796. Mitridate. Venice, 1797. Meleagro. Milan, 1798. Carolina e Menzicoff. Venice, 1798. Edipo a Colona. Venice, 1799. II Ritratto. Milan, 1799. II Ratto delle Sabine. Venice, 1800. Clitemnestra. Milan, 1801. II Bevitore Fortunate. Milan, 1803. Ines de Castro. Milan, 1803. Tancredi al Sepolcro di Clorinda. Naples, 1805. Baldovino. Rome, 1810. Berenice. Rome ( TL Valle), 1811. PERSUIS. Estelle. 1783. La Nuit Espagnole. 1791. Phanor et Angola. 1798. Fanny Morna. 1799. Le Fruit Defendu. 1800. Marcel. 1801. Leonidas. 1799. Le Triomphe de Trajan. 1807. Jerusalem delivree. 1812. L'Heureux Retour. 1815. Les Dieux Rivaux. DALAYRAC. L'Eclipse totale. 1782. Le Corsaire. 1783. Les Deux Tuteurs. 1784. La Dot ; L'Amant Statue. 1785. Nina. 178G. Azemia ; Renaud d'Ast. 1787. Sargines. 1788. Raoul de Cre'qui; Les Deux Petits Savoyards; Fanchette. 1789. La Soire'e Orageuse ; Vert -Vert. 1790. Philippe et Georgette; Camillo ou le Souterrain; Agnes et Oliver. 1791. Elise Hortense ; L'Actrice chez clle. 1792. Ambroise, ou Voila ma Journee ; Rome'o et Juliette ; Urgande et Merlin ; La Prise de Toulon. 1793. Adele et Dorsan. 1794. Arnill ; Marianne ; La Pauvrc Femme. 1795. La Famille Americane. 1796. Gulnare ; La Maison isolee. 1797. Primerose ; Alexis, ou 1' Erreur d'un bon Pere ; Le Chateau de Monte'- nei-o ; Les Deux Mots. 1798. Adolphe et Clara ; Laure ; Le Le9on, ou la Tasse de Glace. 1799. Catinat ; Le Rocher de Leucade ; Maison a Vendre. 1800. La Boucle de Cheveux ; La Tour de Neustadt. 1801. Picaros et Diego. 1803. Une Heure de Mariage ; Le Pavilion du Calife' ; La Jeune Prude. 1804. Gulistan. 1805. Lina, ou le Mystere. 1807. Koulouf ; ou, les Chinois. 1808. Le Poete et le Musicien. 1811. LESUEUR. Telemaque. Paris, 1787. La Caverne. February 16, 1793. Paul et Virginie. 1793. La Mort d'Adam. 1793. Les Bardes. July 10, 1804. STORAGE. L'Equivoci. Vienna, 1786, La Cameriera Astuta. London, March 4, 1788. No Song no Supper. London, May 3, 1790. The Siege of Belgrade. January 1, 1791. Dido, Queen of Carthage. May 23, 1791. The Pirates. 1792. The Prize. 1793. The Haunted Tower. January 3, 1794. The First of June. 1794. Cherokee. 1794. Lodoiska. 1794. My Grandmother. 1795. The Iron Chest, 1796. Mahmoud ; or, the Prince of Persia. April 30, 1796. i PAER. La Locanda de' Vagabondi. Parma, 1789. I Pretendenti Burlati. Parma, 1790. Circe. Venice, 1791. Said ossia il Seraglio. Venice, 1792. LIST OF OPERAS. 525 L'Oro fa Tutto. Milan, 1 793. I Molinari. Venice, 1793. Laodicea. Padua, 1793. II Tempo f k Giustizia a Tutti. Pavia, 1794. Idomeneo. Florence, 1794. Una in Bene ed Una in Male. Rome, 1794. II Matrimonio Improviso. 1794. L'Araante Servitore. Venice, 1795. La Rossana. Milan, 1795. L'Orfana Ricouosciuta. Florence, 1795. Ero 6 Leandro. Naples, 1795. Tamerlane. Milan, 179G. I Due Sordi. Venice, 1796. Sofonisba. Bologna, 1796. Griselda. Parma, 1796. L'Intrigo Amoroso. Venice, 1796. La Testa Riscaldata. Venice, 1796. Cinna. Padua, 1797. II Principe di Taranto. Parma, 1797. II Nuovo Figaro. Parma, 1797. La Sonnambula. Venice, 1797. II Fanatico in Berlina. Vienna, 1798. II Morto Vivo. Vienna. 1799. La Donna Cambiata. Vienna, 1800. I Fuorusciti di Firenzc. Vienna, 1800. Camilla. Vienna, 1801. GinevradegliAlmeri. Dresden, 1802. II Sargino. Dresden, 1803. Tutto il male vien dal Buco. Venice, 1804. L'Astuzie Amorosa. Parma, 1804. II Maniscalco. Padua, 1804. Leonora ossia TAmorc conjugalc. Dresden, 1805. Achille. Dresden, 1806. Numa Pompilio. Paris, 1808. Cleopatra. Paris, 1810. Didone. Paris, 1810. IBaccanti. Paris, 1811. L'Agnese. Parma, 1811. L'Eroismo in Amorc. Milan, 1816. Le Maitre de Chapelle. Paris, 1824. Un Caprice de Femme. Paris, 1834. Olinde et Sophronie. Paris, 1834. The Magician no Conjuror. Mazzinghi.) 1790. DIBOIN, Damon and Phillida. 1768. The Padlock. 1768. {Count Lionel and Clarissa ; The Jubilee ; The Blackamoor. 1770. The Wedding Ring. 1773. The Waterman ; The Christmas Tale. 1774. The Seraglio. 1776. The Quaker. 1777. Poor Vulcan. 1778. Liberty Hall. 1785. Harvest Home. 1787. The Cobbler ; Rose and Colin ; An- nette and Lubin ; The Wives' Re- venge ; The Graces; The Saloon; The Shepherdess of the Alps ; The Barrier of Parnassus; The Milk- maid ; The Land of Simplicity ; The Passions ; The Statue ; Clump and Cuddcn ; The Benevolent Tar; The Region of Accomplishments ; The Lancashire Witches ; The Ces- tus; Pandora; Long Odds; Tom Thumb ; The Deserter. MEHUL. Hypsipilie. 1787. Alonzo et Cora. Euphrosine et Corradin. 1790. Stratonice. Horatius Codes. Le Jeuue Sage et leVieux Fou. Doria. Phrosine et Mc'lidor. La Cavcrne. 1795. Adrien. Le Jeune Henri. 1797. Timoleon. Ariodant. 1 799. Joanna. L'Hcureu.K malgre' lui. Ile'leue. LTrato. Une Folic. Ulhal. GabricUc d'Estrccs. Le Prince Troul)adom*. Valentine de IVIilan. La Journce aux Aventures. Arminio. 1794. Scipion. 1795. Tancrede ct Clorinde. 1796. Se'sostris. Agar dans le Desert. Les Amazones. 1812. KREUTZER. Jeanne d'Arc ii Orleans. 1790. 626 LIST OF OPEEAS. Paul et Virginie ; Lodoiska. 1791. Charlotte et Wei'ther ; Le Franc Breton. 1792. Le Deserteur de la Montaigne de Hamon ; Le Congres des Rois ; Le Siege de Lille ; La Journee de Marathon. 1793. Astianax. 1801. Aristippe ; Le Petit Page ; Fran9ois Premier ; Jadis et Aujourd'hui, 1808. Antoine et Cle'opatre. 1809. La Mort d'Abel. 1810. Le Triomphe du Mois de Mars. 1811. L'Homme sans Fa^on. 1812. Le Camp de Sobieski ; Constance et Theodore. 1813. Les Be'arnais ; L'Oriflamme. 1814. La Princesse de Babjlone. 1815. Les Deux Rivaux; La Perruque et la Redingote; Le Maitre et le Valet. 1816. Le Ne'gociant de Hambom'g. 1821. Ipsiboe'. 1823. Matilda. KUNZEN. Holger-Danskc. 1790. Les Vendangeurs. Prague, 1793. Hemmeligheden. Copenhagen, 1796. Dragedickken ; Jokeyn. Copenha- gen, 1797. Eric Ejegod. 1798. Naturen Roest ; La Harpe d'Ossian. 1799. Le Re'tour dans les Foyers. Copen- hagen, 1802. NICOLO ISOUARD. Avviso ai Maritati. Florence, 1794. Artaserse. Livorna, 1795. II Tonneliere ; Rinaldo d'Asti ; II Barbiere di Seviglia ; L'lmprov- visata in Campagna ; II Barone d'Alba Chiara, Malta. La Statue ; ou, la Femmc Avare. Paris, 1800. Le Petit Page ; ou, la Prison d'Etat. 1800. Flaminius a Corinthe. 1801. L'Impromptu de Campagna ; Michel Ange ; Le Baiser et la Quittance. 1802. Les Confidences ; Le Medecin Turc. 1803. Leonce, ou le Fils adoptif ; La Ruse inutile ; L'Intrigue aux Fenetres. 1805. Idala ; La Prise de Passau ; Le De- jeuner de Gar9ons. 1806. Les Cre'anciers, ou Remede k la Goutte; LesRendez-vousBurgeois. 1807. Un Jour a Paris; Cimarosa. 1808. L'Intrigue au Serail. 1809. Cendrillon. 1810. Le Magicien sans Magie ; La Vic- time des Arts; Le Billet de Lo- terie ; Le Fete au Village. 1811. LuUi et Quinault. 1812. Le Pi-ince de Catane ; Le Francois a Venise. 1813. Joconde ; Jeannot et Colin ; Le Siege de Mezieres. 1814. Les Deux Maris ; L'Une pour 1' Autre. 1816. NASOLINI. Nitteti, Trieste; L'Isola incantata, Parma. 1789. Adriano in Siria, Milan ; Andro- macca, London ; Tesco, Vienna. 1790. La Morte di Cleopatra. 1791. Semiramide. Rome, 1792. Ercole al Termodonte, Trieste ; Eu- genia ; II Trionfo di Clelia ; LTn- cantesimo senza Magia; La Me- rope ; Gli Opposti Caratteri ; Gli Sposi Infatuati ; La Morte di Mit- ridate ; La Festa d'Iside ; I due Fratelli Rivali; Gli Annamorati; L'Adimira ; Merope ; II Torto Im- maginario. Fcrdinande in Mexico. PORTOGALLO. L'Eroe Cinese, Turin ; La Bachetta Portentosa. 1788. L'Astutto. Florence, 1789. II Molinaro. Venice, 1790. La Donna di Genio vulubile. Parma, 1791. La Vedova raggiratrice, Rome; II Principe di Spazzacamino, Venice ; II Filosofo sedicente ; Alceste ; Ore non compra Amore. Demofoonte. Milan, 1794. I Due Gobbi ossia le Confusioni nate dalla Somiglianza. Venice, 1795. II Ritorno di Serse, Bologna; II LIST OF OPERAS. 527 Diavolo a quattro, ossia le Donne Cambiatc. Fernando in Messico. Kome, 1797- La Maschera fortunata. Non irritar le Donne. 1799. Idonte. Milan, 1800. II Muto per astuzzia; Omar, Ee di Temagcne ; Avgenide. Semiramide. Lisbon, 1802. II Cia bottino; Zulema e Selimo. Adrian© in Siria. Milan, 1815. La Mortc di Mitridate. TRAETTA. Farnace. Naples, 1750. I Pastori Felici. 1753. Ezio. Rome, 1754. II Buova d'Antona. Florence, 175G. Ippolito ed Aricia. Parma, 1759. Ifigenia in Aulide. Vienna, 1759. Stordilano, Principe di Granata, Par- ma; Armida, Vienna. 1760. Sofonisba. Parma, 17G1. La Francese a Malaghera. 1762. Didone Abbandonata. 1764. Semiramide Riconosciuta. 1765. La Serva Rivale. Venice, 1767. Amore in Trappola. 1768. L'Isola Disabitata. St. Petersburg, 1769. L'Olimpiade. 1770. Antigone. 1772. Germondo. London, 1 776. II Cavalier Errante. Naples, 1777. La Disfatta di Dario ; Artcnice. Venice, 1778. Apele Campaspc. Milan, 1796. NICCOLINI. La Famiglia Stravagante. Kome, 1793. II Principe Spazzacamino; I Moli- nari. 1791. Le Nozze campcstri, Milan; Arta- scrse, Venice. 1795. La Donna Innamorata. Alzira, 1 7i>7. La Clemenza di Tito. Livorna, 1 797. I Due Fratclli ridicoli, Rome ; II Bruto; Gli Scitti, Milan. 1798. II Trionfo del bel scsso. Indativo, 1800. I Baecanali di Roma. Milan, 1801. I Manli. Milan, 1802. La Selvaggia. Rome, 1803. Fedra ossia il Ritorno di Tcsco. Rome, 1804, II Gcloso sincerato. Naples, 1805. Geribea e Falamone. Naples, 1805. Gli Inconstanti Nemici delle Donne. 1805. Abenbamet e Zoraide. Milan, 1806. Trajano in Dacia. Rome, 1807. Le Due Gcmelle. Rome, 1808. Coriolano. Milan, 1810. Dario Istaspe. Turin, 1811, Angelica e Medoro. Turin, 1811. Abradate e Dircea, Milan ; Quinto Fabio, Vienna ; Le Nozze del Mor- lacchi ; La Feudataria. 1812. La Casa del Astrologo; Jlitridate; L'Ira d'Achille, Milan; Balduino, Venice ; Carlo JNLigno ; II Conte de Lennose, Parma; Annibale in Bitinia ; Cesare nelle Gallic ; Adolphe; La Presa di Granata; L'Ero di Lancastro ; Aspasia ed Agidc ; II Teuzzone ; Ilda d'Av- enel ; La Conquista di INIalacca ; Wittikind ; II Trionfo di Cesare. SPONTINI. I Puntigli delle Donne. 1795. aV Amanti in Cimento. Rome, 1796. L'Amor Sccreto. Venice, 1796. L'Isola Disabitata, Parma, 1797. L'Eroismo Ridicolo. Naples, 1797. Le Teseo Riconosciuto. Florence, 1798. La Finta Filosofa. Naples, 1799. La Fuga in Maschera. ISOO. I Quadri Parlanti. Parma, 1800. II Finto Pittore. Parma, 1800. Gl' Elisi Dclusi. Parma, 1801. II Gelosa e I'Audacc. Rome. Le Metamorfosi di Pasquale. Ven- ice, 1802. Chi pill guarda meno vede. Venice, 1802. La Principessa d'Amalfi. Venice, 1802. Le Pot de Fleurs. Paris, 1803. La Petite Maison. Paris, 1804. Milton. Paris, December, 1804. L'Eccelsa Gara, 1806. La Vestalc. December 15, 1 807. Fcrnand Cortez. 1809. Pelage ; ou, le Roi ct la Paix. 1814. La Colerc d'Achille. 1816, Les Dieux Rivaux, 1816. Berenice. Les Danaides. Louis IX. en Egypte. 1817. 528 LIST OP OPERAS. Artaxerxes. 1819. Olympic. 1819. Les Atheniennes. 1822. Alcidor. 1823. Noui'mahal. Agnes de Hohcnstaufen. Berlin,1827. boVeldieu. La Dot de Suzette. 1795. La Famille Suisse. 1796. Mombreuil et Merville. 1797. L'Heureuse Nouvelle. 1797. Zoraime et Zulnarc. 1798. Beniowsky. 1800. Calife de Bagdad. 1800. Ma Tante Aurore. La Prisonniere. Amour et Mystere. Calypso. Abderkan. Aline, Eeine de Golconde. Joconde. Jeannot et Colin. Jean de Paris. Paris, 1812. Le Nouveau Seigneur de Village. 1813. Les Bearnais. : Angela ; ou, I'Atelier de Jean Cousin. 1815. La Fete du Village voisin. Charles de France. Blanche de Provence; ou, la Cour des Fees. 1821. La Dame Blanche. Paris, Decem- ber, 1825. MAYER. Lodoiska. Venice, 1796. Telemacco. Venice, 1797. Lauso e Lidia. Venice, 1798. Adriano in Siria. Naples, 179S. L'Equivoco. Milan, 1800. Ginevra di Scozia. Trieste, 1801. II Nuovo Fanatico per la Musica. Le Due Giornate. Milan, 1801. Argene. Venice, 1801. II Kaoul di Cre'qui. Milan, 1801. Amore non softre Opposizione. Ven- ice, 1801. I Misteri Eleusini. Milan, 1802. Ercole in Lidia. Vienna, 1803. Le Finti Rivali. Milan, 1803. Alfonso e Cora. Milan, 1803. Amor non ha ritcgno. Milan, 1804. Elisa. Venice, 1804. Ernaldo ed Emma. Milan, 1805. L'Amor Conjugale. Padua, 1805. La Rocia di Fahenstein. Venice, 1805. Gl' Americani. Venice, 1806. Ifigenia in Aulide. Parma, 1806. Adalasia ed Alaramo. Milan, 1807. Ne I'un ne I'altro. Milan, 1807. Belle Ciarle e tristi Fatti. Venice, 1807. I Cherasci. Rome, 1808. II Vero Originale. Rome, 1808. II Ritorno d'Ulisse. Venice, 1 809. II Desertore ossia Amore Filiale. Venice, 1811. Medea in Corinto. Venice, 1812. Tamerlane. Milan, 1812. Le Due Duchesse. Milan, 1814. La Rosa bianca ed la Rosa rossa. Rome, 1814. Atar. Milan, 1815. Elena e Constantino. Milan, 1816. CATEL. Semiramis. 1802. L'Auberge de Bagneres. 1807. Les Artistes par Occasion. 1807. Les Bayaderes. 1808. Les Aubergistes de Qualite. 1810. Le Siege de Mezieres. 1814. Wallace, ou 1^ Minstrel Ecossais; Zirphile et Fleur de Myrte. 1818. L'Officier Enleve'. 1819. GENERALI. Gli Amanti Ridicoli. Rome, 1800. II Duca Nottolone. Rome, 1801. La Pamela nubile. Venice, 1802. La Calzolaja. L'Adelina. Misantropia e Pentimento, Venice ; Gli Eft'eti della Somiglianza, Ven- ice; Don Chisciotti, Milan. 1805. Orgoglio et Umiliazione, Venice ; L'Idolo Cinese, Naples. 1807. Lo Sposo in Bersaglio. Florence, 1807. Le Lagrime d'una Vedova. Venice, 1808. II Ritratto del Duca. Venice, 1808. Lo Sposo in Contrasto. Vienna, 1808. La Moglie Giudice dello Sposo. Ven- ice, 1809. Amore vince lo Sdegno. Rome, 1809. Chi non risica non rosica, Milan ; La Vedova delirante, Rome; La LIST OF OPERAS. 520 Sciocca per gli altri e I'Astuta per se, Venice. 1811. Gaulo ed Ojitono. Naples, 1812. La Vedova stravagante, Milan ; L'Or- do che ci vede, Bologna. Eginardo e Lisbetta. Naples, 1813. Bajazcttc ; La Contessa di Colle Er- boso ; II Servo Padrone, Turin. 1814. L'Impostore ossia il Marcotondo. Mi- lan, 1815. I Baccanali di Rome. Venice, 1815. La Vestale. Trieste, 1816. II Trionfo d' Alessandro. Bologna, 1816. Elato. Bologna, 1817. Rodrigo di Valcnza. 1817. II Gabba Mondo ; Elena ed Alfredo ; Adelaide di Borgogna; Chiara di Rosemberg; La Testa maraviglio- sa ; II Divorzio Persiano o il gran Bazzaro di Bassora. Francesca di Rimini. Milan, 1829. HUMMEL. Le Vicende d'Amore. Mathilde do Guise. Das Haus ist zu Verkaufen. Die Ruckfahrt des Kaisers. WINTER. Armida ; Cora e Alonzo ; Leonardo eBlandine; Helencet Paris. 1780. Bellerophon. 1782. Circe'. Munich, 1788. Catone in Utica ; Antigone. 1791. II Sacrifizio di Creta, Venice ; Fra- telli Rivali. Venice, 1792. Psyche', Munich ; Dcr Sturm. 1793. Le Labyrinthe. Das Untcrbrochene Opferfcst ; Ogus, ou le Triom))hc du beau Scxe, Prague; Die Thomasnacbt. 1795. I Due Vedove. Vienna, 1796. Ariana; Elisa. 1797. Marie de Montalban. Munich, 1798. Tamerlan. Paris, 1802. Castor et Pollux. London, 1 803. II Ratto di Proserpine. London, 1 80 L Zaira, London ; Calypso ; L'Amore Fraterno, London ; Fraenbund, Munich. 1805. Colman. Munich, 1809. Die Blinden. Munich, 1810. II Maometto, Milan; I Due Valdo- miri. Milan, 1817. 34 : Etelinda. 1818. La Bouffe et le Tailleur. 1819. BEETHOVEN. Fidelio. Vienna, November, 1805. BISHOP. The Circassian Bride ; The Vinta- gers. 1809. The Maniac. 1810. The Virgin of the Sun ; The .^thiop ; The Renegade. 1812. IlarounalRaschid; The Brazen Bust; Harry le Roi ; The Miller and his Men ; For England, Ho ! 1813. The Farmer's Wife ; The Wandering Boys; The Grand Alliance; The Forest of Bondy ; The Maid of the Mill; John of Paris. 1814. The Brother and Sister ; The Noble Outlaw; Telemachus. 1815. A Midsummer Night's Dream ; The Slave. 1816. The Heir of Verona ; The Humorous Lieutenant ; The Duke of Savoy. Zuma. 1818. The Heart of Mid Lothian; A Roland fou an Oliver ; The Comedv of Er- rors. 1819. The Antiquary ; The Battle of Both- well Bridge ; Ilcnrv IV. 1820. Twelfth Night ; The two Gentlemen of Verona; Montrose. 1821. The Law of Java ; Maid Marian. 1822. Clari ; The Beacon of Liberty ; Cor- tcz. 1823. Our Native Land ; The Fall of Al- giers. 1824. W^illiam Tell. 1825. Aladdin. 1826. The Englishman in India ; The Ren- contre. 1827. COCCIA. II Matrimonio per Cambiale. Rome, 1808. II Poeta Fortunato, Florence ; La Vcrltii ncUa Bugia, Venice. 1810. Voglia di Dote c non di Moglie. Fer- rara, 1810. La Matilde. 1811. I Solitari. Venice, 1812. II Sogno vcrificato. 1812. Arrighctto. Venice, 1814. La Selvagia. 1814. 530 LIST OF OPERAS. II Crescendo ; Euristea ; Evelina. Milan, 1815. I Begli Usi di Citta, Milan ; Clotilde, Venice ; Rinaldo d'Asti, Rome ; Carlotta e Werter. 1816. Claudine, Turin ; Etelinde, Venice ; Simile, Ferrara. 1817. Donna Caritea. Turin, 1818. Fajel. Florence, 1819. Atar. Lisbon, 1820. Mandane, Regina di Persia. 1821. Elena a Constantino. 1821. La Festa della Rosa, 1822. Maria Stuarda. London, 1827. L'Orfano delle Solve. Venice, 1829. Rosamunda. Naples, 1831. Edoardo Stuart. Milan, 1832. Enrico di Montfort. 1832. Caterina di Guisa. 1833. MORLACCHI. II Ritratto, Bologna ; II Poeta in Cam- pagna. 1807. Corradino; Enone e Paride, Livorna; Oreste, Parma. 1808. Rinaldo d'Asti, Parma ; La Princi- pessa per Rimpiego, Rome ; Le Av- venture d'una Giornata. Milan, 1809. Le Dan aide. 1810. Raoul de Crequi. Dresden, 1811. La Capricciosa Pentita. Dresden, 1812. II Nuovo Barbiere di Siviglia. Dres- den, 1815. La Badicea. Venice, 1818. Da Semplicetta di Pirna. Donna Aurora. Dresden, 1819. Tebaldo ed Isolina. Dresden, 1820. La Gioventii di Enrico V. Dresden, 1823. Laodicea. 1825. I Saraceni in Sicilia. Venice, 1827. II Colombo. 1828. Gioanni di Parigi. 1829. Francesca di Rimini. Venice, 1836. SPOHR. Der Zweikampf der Geliebten ; Der Berggeist ; Faust ; Jessonda ; Ze- mire et Azor ; Pietro d'Abano ; Der Alchymist, Berlin. WEIGL. La Precaution Inutile ; La Sposa Col- lerica ; II Pazzo per Forza ; La Caf- fetiera ; La Pvincipessa d'Amalfi ; Giulietta e Pierotto; L'Amor Ma- rinaro; L'Accademia del Maestro Cisolfat; I Solituii; L'Uniforme; Le Prince Invisible ; Cleopatra ; II Rivale di se stesso; L'Imboscata; L'Orfana d'lnghilterra ; Le Petit Homme Pierre ; Le Village dans les Montagncs; La Maison'des Or- phelins ; La Famille Suisse ; Fran- 9oise de Foix ; Le Feu de Vesta ; La Chute de la Montague ; L'Em- pereur Adrien ; La Jeunesse de Pien-e le Grand ; La Chute do Baal ; La Porte de Per ; Ostade ; L'Ermite ; Le Rossignol et le Cor- beau ; Waldemar ; Edouard et Car- oline ; II Ratto di Proserpine. Venice, Bologna, ROSSINI. La Cambiale di Matrimonio. 1810. L'Equivoco Stravagante. 1811. L'Inganno Felice (Ven.); Ciro in Babilonia (Ferrara) ; La Scala di Seta (Ven.) ; L'Occasione fa il La- dro(Ven.). 1812. La Pietro del Paragone. Milan, 1812. Demetrio e Polibio. Rome, 1812. LTtaliana in Algieri. Naples, 1813. Tancredi. Venice, 1813. II Bruschino; o, il Figlio per Az- zarde. Venice, 1813. L'Aureliano in Palmira. 1814. II Turco in Italia. Milan, 1814. Sigismondo. Venice, 1815. La Gazetta. Naples, 1816. iPtello. Naples, 1816. jl Barbiere di Siviglia. Rome, 1816. La Cenerentola. Rome, 1816. Armida. Naples, 1817. La Gazza Ladra. Milan, 1817. Elisabetta. Naples, 1817. Mose in Egitto. Naples, 1818. Ricciardo e Zoraide. Naples, 1818. Torwaldo e Dorliska. Rome, 1818. Adelaide di Borgogna. Rome, 1818. Adina ; o, il Calififo di Bagdad. 1818. Ermione. Naples, 1819. Eduardo e Christina. Venice, 1819. La Donna del Lago. Naples, 1819. Bianca e Faliero. Milan, 1819. Maometto. Naples, 1820. Matilda di Shabran. Rome, 1821. Zelmira. Naples, August 13, 1822. LIST OF OPERAS. 531 Mose in Egitto. Taris, 1822. Semiramide. Venice, 1823. II Viag<;io a Rheims. Paris, 1825. Le Sie'ge de Corinthe. Paris, 1826. Le Corate Ory. Paris, 1827. _fiuglielmo TeU. Paris, 1829. Robert Bruce. Paris, 18i6. CARAFA. II Vascello ; L'Occidente. 1814. La Gelosia Corrctta. 1815. Gabrielle di Vergi. 1816. Ifigcnia in Tauride. Naples, 1817. Adele di Lusignano. ]\Iilan,1817. Berenice Siria. Naples, 1818. Elizabeth in Derbyshire. Venice, 1818. H Sacrifizio d' Epito. 1819. Gli Due Figaro. Milan, 1820. Jeanne d' Arc. Paris, 1821. La Capriciosa ed il Soldato, Rome ; Le Solitaire, Paris ; Taraerlano, Paris ; Eufemio di Messina Abufar, Vienna ; Le Valet de Chambre, Paris; L'Auberge Supposce. 1823. La Belle au Bois Dormant ; II Son- nambulo, Milan. 1825. Sangarido. Paris, 1827. Le Nozze di Lammermoor. Paris, December, 1829. La Violctte ; Masaniello ; Jenny ; La Prison d'Edimbourg. 1833. La Grande Duchesse. PACINI. Anetta e Lucindo. Venice, 1814. Rosina. Florence, 1815. L'Ingenua. Venice, 1818. Adelaide e Comingio. Milan. II Barone di Dolsheim. Milan, 1818. L'Ambizione Dclusa ; Gli Sponsali di Silfii; II Falegname di Livonia; Ser Marcantonio ; La Sposo Fe- dele ; La Schiava di Bagdad ; La Gioventu d'Enrico V. ; LaVcstale; L'Eroe Scozzesse ; La Saccrdotcssa d'Irminsul ; Atala ; Isabella ed En- rico. Temistocle. Lucca, November, 1823. Alcssandro ncU' Indie. Naples, 1824. Amazilia. Naples, 1825. L'Ultimo Giorno di Pompei. Naples, November 19, 1825. Niobe. Nai)lcs, November 19. 1826. II Crociato in Tolomaide. Trieste, 1828. Gi' Arabi nelle Gallic. Turin, De- cember 25, 1828. Margherita d'Anjou. Ccsare in Egitto. Gianni di Calais. Giovanna d'Arco, Milan, IMarch 12, 1830; Berta; Mulctierc di Toledo. Malvina di Scozia (Naples); Cinq Mars (Palermo). 1852. II Cid (Milan); La Cantatrice di Madrid. 1853. Allan Cameron ; La Pnnizione (Ven- ice) ; Romilda di Provenza ; Eiisa Valasco (Rome). 1854. Luisetta. Naples, 1855. Margarita Pusterla. Naples, 1856. Gianni di Nisilda. Rome, 1860. Belphegor. Florence, 1861. Giovanni di Marana. 1862. VACCAJ. I Solitari di Scozia. 1814. II Lupo d'Ostcnda. 1818. Pietro il Grande. Parma, 1824. La Pastorella Feudataria ; Zadig cd Astartea. Naptes, 1825. Giulietta e Romeo, Milan ; Fuccinc di Norvegia ; Giovanna d'Arco, Venice ; Bianca di Messina, Tu- rin ; Saladino, Florence ; SauUc, Milan ; II Marco Visconti ; Gio- vanna Gray; La Sposa di Mes- sina. DONIZETTI. Enrico, Contc di Borgogne. Venice, 1818. II Falegname di Livomia. Venice, 1819. Le Nozzo in Villa. Mantua, 1820. Zoraide di Granata. Rome, 1822. La Zingara. Naples, 1822. Chiara e Scrafina. Milan, 1822. IlFortunato Inganno. Naples, 1823. Aristea. Naples, 1823. Una Follia. Naples, 1823. Alfredo il Grande. Naples, 1823. L'Ajo in Imbiirazzo. Rome, 1824. Emilia ; o, I'Ermitagio di Liverpool. Naples, 1824. Alahor in Granata. P.alcrmo, 1826. II Castello degli Inv.ilidi. Palermo, 1826. Elvira. Naples, 1826. Olive e Pasquale. Rome, 1827. II Borgomastro di Saardam ; Le Con- 532 LIST OF OPEKAS. venienze Teatrali; Otto Mesi in due Ere. Naples, 1827. Giove di Grano ; L'Usule di Koma ; Gianni di Calais. Naples, 1828. La Regina di Golconda. Genoa, 1828. II Paria ; I Pazzi per Progretto ; Francesca di Foix ; La Romanzie- ra ; II Castello di Kenilworth ; Zai- da ; II Diluvio Universale ; Imelda di Lambertuzzi. Naples, 1829. Anna Bolena. Milan, 1830. Fausta. Naples, 1831. Ugo Conte di Parigi. Milan, 1832, L'Elisir d'Amore.^ Milan, 1832. 'Sancia di Castiglia. Naples, 1832. H Furioso, Rome ; Parisina, Florence ; Torquato Tasso, Rome. 1833. ; Lucrezia Borgia, Milan; Rosmonda ^ — d'Inghilterra, Florence ; Maria Stuarda, Naples ; Buondelmonte. , 1834. "pjGemma, di Vergy. Milan, 1835. / ]Lucia di Lammernioor, Naples, 1835. Marino Faliero, Paris ; Betly, Naples ; L'Assedio di Calais, Naples ; II Campanella di Notte, Naples ; Be- lisario, Venice. 1836. Pia di Tolomei ; Roberto Devereux. Naples, 1837. Maria di Rudenz. Venice, 1838. Gianni di Parigi. Milan, 1839. ] La Figlia del Reggimento ;/_La Favo- rita^y Les Martyres. Paris, 1840. Adella. Rome, 1841. [Linda di Chamouni, Vienna ; Maria di Rohan, Vienna ; Maria Padilla, Milan. 1842. 1 Don Pasquale ; Dom Sebastien. Par- is, 1843. Catarina Cornaro ; Gabrielle deVer- gi ; Le Due d'Albe. Naples, 1844. Rita. Paris, 1860. MERCADANTE.* L'Apoteosi d'Ercole. Naples, 1818. Violenza e Costanza. Naples, 1819. Anacreonte in Samo. Naples, 1820. II Geloso Ravveduto. Rome, 1820. Scipione in Cartagine. Rome, 1820. Maria Stuarda. Bologna, 1821. Elisa e Claudio. Milan, 1821. Andronico. Milan, 1822. Adele ed Emerico. Milan, 1822. Amleto. 1822. Alfonso ed Elisa. Mantua, 1823. Didone. Turin, 1823. Gli Sciti. Naples, 1823. Gli Amici di Siracuse. Rome, 1824. Doralice. Vienna, 1824. Le Nozze di Telemacco ed Antiope. Vienna, 1824. II Podesta di Burgos. Vienna, 1824. L'Erode. Venice, 1825. Nitocri. Turin, 1825. La Donna Caritea. Venice, 1826. Ezio. Milan, 1827. II Montanaro. Milan, 1827. La Rappressaglia. Cadiz, 1829. La Testa di Bronzo. Madrid, 1830. Zaira. Naples, 1831. I Normanni a Parigi. Turin, 1831. Ismala ossia Morte ed Amore. Milan, 1832. II Conte d'Essex. Milan, 1833. Emma d'Antiochia. Venice, 1834. I Briganti. Paris, March 22, 1836. La Gioventii di Enrico V. II Giuramento. Milan, 1837. Le Due Illustri Rivali. Venice, 1839. Leonora. La Schiava Saracene. 1850. Statira ; Violetta. Naples, 1853. Pelagio. Naples, 1858. MEYERBEER. Romilda e Costanzo. Padua, 1818. Marguerite d'Anjou. Milan, 1822. L'Esule di Granata. 1823. II Crociato. Venice, April, 1824. Emma di Resburgo. 1825. Robert le Diable. Paris, 1831. Les Huguenots. Paris, 1836. Nabuco. Attila. Venice. Giovanno d'Arco. Camp de Silesie. Berlin, 1844. {Le Prophete. Paris, 1849. L'Etoile du Nord. Paris, 1854. "iiC Pardon de Ploermel {Dinorah). Paris, 1859. WEBER. Die Macht der Liebe und des Weins. Salzburg, 1798. Silvana. Munich, 1800. Peter Scbmoll und seine Nachbarn. Salzburg, 1801. Signor Mercadante haa written fifty -two operaa in alL LIST OF OPERAS. 533 Riibezahl. Breslan, 1805. Abon Hassan. Darmstadt, 1810. Der Freischutz. Berlin, 1821. Euryanthc. Vienna, 1823. Preciosa. 1825. Oberon. London, April 12, 182G. Der Berherrscher der Geister. 1S2G. HALEVY. L'Artisan. Paris, January 30, 1822. Pygmalion. Phidias. 1827. Les Deux Pavilions. 1827. Le Roi et le Batelier. 1828. Le Dilettante. Paris, 1829. Clari. Paris, 1829. Le Langue Musicale. 1831. Ludovic. 1832. La Tentation. 1833. Les Souvenirs de Lafleur. 1834. L I Juive. Paris, 1835. L Eclair . Paris, December, 1 835. Guido e Ginevra. Paris, 1838. Cosme de Medicis. 1839. Les Treize. 1839. Le Drapier. Paris, 1840. II Guitarero. Paris, 1841. La Reine do Chypre. Paris, 1842. Charles VI. Paris, 1843. II Lazzarone. Paris, 1844. Les Mousquetaires de la Rcine. Paris, 184G. Le Val d'Andorre. Paris, 1848. La Fee aux Roses. Paris, 1849. La Tempesta. London, 1850. La Dame de Pique. 1850. Le Juif Errant. 1852. Le Nabob. 1853. Jaguarita. 1855. Valentine d'Aubigny. 1856. La Magicienne. Paris, 1857. AUBER. Le Sejouv Militaire. 1813. Le Testament et les Billets-doux. 1819. La Bergere Chatelaine. 1821. Emma. 1821. Leicester. 1822. Le Neige; ou, Ic Nouvel Eginard. Paris, October 8, ISfe. Le Concert a la Cour. Paris, 1824. Ldocadie. Paris, November, 1824. Le Ma<;;on. Paris, May, 1825. LeTimide. 1826. Fiorella. 1826. La Muette di Portici. Paris, 1829. La Fiancee. Paris, January, 1829. L£ra, Diavolo. Paris, January, 1830. Le Dieu et la Bayadere. Paris, Oc- tober, 1830. Le Philtre. Paris, June, 1831. Le Serment. Paris, 1832. Gustave III. Paris, 1833. Lestocq. 1834. Les Chaperons Blancs. 1836. Acteon. Paris, January 25, 1836. L'Ambassadrice. Paris, 1836. Le Domino Noir. Paris, 1837. Le Lac des Fe'es. Paris, 1839. Zanctta. Paris, May, 1840. Les Diamans de la Couronne. Paris, March 6, 1841. Le Due d'Olonne. Paris, 1842. Le Part du Diable. Paris, 1843. La Sirene. Paris, 1844. La Barcarolle. Paris, 1845. Ilaide'e; ou, Le Se'cret. Paris, 1847. L'Enfant Prodigue. Paris, 1850. La Corbeille d'Oranges. Paris, 1851- Marco Spada. Paris, 1852. Le Cheval de Bronze. 1853. Manon Lescaut. 1855. Jenny Bell. 1855. La Circassienne. 1861. GNECCO. Gli Bramini; Argete; Le Nozzc dc Sanniti ; La Prova d'un Opera Se- ria; Le Nozze di Lauretta; Caro- lina c Filandro ; II Pignattaro ; La Scena senza Scena ; Gli ultimi due Giorni di Camovale ; La Prova degli Orazzi e Curiazi ; Arsace c Scmira; Amanti filarmonici. HEROLD. La Gioventu di Eurico Quinto. Na- ples, 1812. Charles de France ; Les Rositires ; La Clochctte. Paris, 1816. Le Premier Venu. Paris, 1818. Les Trocqueurs ; L' Amour Platon- ique. Paris, 1819. L'Autcur mort et vivant. Le Muletier ; Lasthe'nic ; Vendomc en Espagnc. Paris, 1823. Le Roi Rene. Paris, 1824. Lc Lapin Blanc. 1825. Marie. Paris, November, 1826. L'lllusion. Paris, July 19, 1829. L'Aubergc d'Auray. Paris, 1830. 534 LIST OF OPERAS. Emmeline ; La Marquise de Brinvil- liers. 1830. I^ampa. Paris, May, 1831. La Medecine sans Medecin. Paris, October 19, 1832. Le Pre aux Clercs. Paris, 1832. BELLINI. Andelson e Salvina. Naples, 1825. Bianca e Gernando. Naples, 1826. La Straniera. Milah, 1829. II Pirata. Milan, 1829. Zaira. Parma, 1829. I Capuletti e Montecclii. Venice, March 12, 1830. LJLa Sonnambula. Milan, 1831. l^orma. Milan, January 1, 1832. Beatrice di Tenda. Venice, 1833. ^I Puritani. Paris, 1835, PERSIAN!. Piglia il Mondo come viene. Flor- ence, 1826. L'Inimico Generoso, Florence ; Atti- la, Parma. 1827. Danao Re d'Argo. Florence, 1827. Gaston de Foix ; Ines de Castro. BENEDICT. Giacinta ed Ernesto. Naples, 1827. I Portoghesi in Goa. Naples, 1830. Un Anno ed un Giorno. Naples, 1836. The Gipsy's Warning. London, 1838. The Brides of Venice. London, April 22, 1844. The Crusaders. London, 1846. The Lily of Killarney. London, February, 1862. NIEDERMEYER. II Reo per Amore, Naples ; Une Nuit dans la Foret, Paris ; Marie Stuart, Paris. Stradella. Paris, 1836. La Fronde. 1853. COSTA. II Carcera d' Ildegonda. Naples, 1828. Malvina. Naples, 1829. Malek Adhel. Paris, 1837. Don Carlos. London, 1834. FLOTOW. L'Ame en Peine ; Stradella. Die Matrosen. Hamburg, 1845. Marta. 1848. La Grande Duchesse. Berlin, 1850. Rubezahl; Sophia Catharina; Indra, Vienna. 1853. Albin. Vienna, 1855. ADOLPHE ADAM. Pierre et Catherine. Paris, 1829. Danilowa. Paris, April, 1830. Paris, Paris, Paris, 1840. Le Morceau d'Ensemble. March, 1831. Le Grand Prix. Paris, 1831. Le Proscit. Paris, 1833. Une Bonne Fortune. 1834. Le Chalet. 1834. Le Postilion de Longjumeau. October 15, 1836. Le Brasseur de Preston. 1839. La Reine d'un Jour. 1840. La Rose de Peronne. Le Roi d' Yvetot. 1843. Richard de Palestine. Paris, 1844. Le Toreador. 1849. Giralda ; ou, la Nouvelle Psyche'. 1850. La Poupee de Nuremberg. 1852. Le Bijou Perdu. 1853. Le Roi des Halles. 1853. Le Muletier de Tolede. 1854. Le Fidele Berger. 1855. Falstaff. 1855. Le Houssard de Berchini. 1855. Mamz'elle Genevieve. 1856. BALFE. I Rivali di Se Stessi. Palermo, 1829. Un' Avvertimento in Gelosi. Pavia, 1830. Enrico IV. al Passo della Marna. Milan, 1831. The Siege of Rochelle. London, Oc- tober 29, 1835. The Maid of Artois. London, 1886. Catharine Grey. London, 1837. Joan of Arc. London, 1837. Diadeste ; or, the Veiled Lady. Lon- don, 1838. Falstaff. London, 1838. Keolante. London, March 3, 1841. Le Puits d'Amour. Paris, 1843. Geraldine ; or, the Lover's Well. London, Ai^ust, 1843. (Transla- tion of Le Puits d'Amour.) The Bohemian Girl. London, No- vember 27, 1843. Les Quatre Fils Aymon. Paris, July, 1843. LIST OP OPERAS. 535 The Daughter of St. Mark. London, November 27, 1844. The Enchantress. London, 1845. L'Etoile de Seville. Paris, 1845. The Bondman. London, 1846. The Devil's in it. London, 1847. The Maid of Honor. London, De- cember 20, 1847. The Sicilian Bride. London, 1852. Pittore e Duca. Trieste, 1856. The Rose of Castile. London, 1857. Satanclla. London, 1858. Bianca ; or, the Bravo's Bride. Lon- don, December 5, 1860. The Puritan's Daughter. London, November 30,1861. The Armorer of Nantes. London, February 12, 1863. BARNETT. The Mountain Sylph. London, Au- gust 25, 1834. Fair Kosamond. London, 1837. Farinclli. London, 1839. LODER. Nourjahad. 1834. Francis the First. 1839. The Night Dancers. London, 1847. Robin Goodfellow. 1849. Raymond and Agnes. 1859. VERDI. Oberto, Conte di St. Bonifacio. Mi- lan, 1839. Un Giorno di Regno. Milan, 1840. Nabuco. Milan, 1843 I Lombardi II Tancredi, Ernani. Milan, 1844. I Duo Foscari. Rome, 1844. Giovanna d'Arco. 1845. Alzira. Naples, 1845. Attila. Venice, 1846. Macbeth. Florence, 1847. Jerusalem. Paris, 1847. I Masnadieri. London, 1847. La Battaglia di Lcgnano. 1849. II Corsaro. Trieste, 1849. Luisa Miller. Naples, 1849. Stiffelio. Trieste, 1850. II Finto Stanislas. 1850. Rigoletto. Venice, 1851. II Trovatore. Rome, 1853. Milan, 1843. La Traviata. Venice, 1853. Les Veprcs Siciliennes. Paris, June 13, 1855. Simon Boccanegra. 1857. Un Ballo in Maschera. Paris, 1861. La Forza del Dcstino. 1862. MACFARREN. Devil's Opera. London, 1838. Don Quixote. London, 1846. Charles the Second. London, 1849. Sleeper Awakened. London, 1850. Robin Hood. London, 1860. AMBROISE THOMAS. Le Panier Fleuri. 1839. Mina. Le Caid ; Songe d'une Nuit d'Ete'. 1850. Raymond. 1851. La Tonelli. 1853. La Cour de Celimene. 1855. Le Carnaval de Venise ; Psyche. 1857. Le Roman d'Elvire. 1860. WALLACE. Maritana. London, 1845. Matilda of Hungary. Lurline. London, February 23,1860. The Amber Witch. London, 1861. Love's Triumph. London, 1862. SCHIRA. Mina. London, 1849. Nicolo di Lapi. London, 1863. GOUNOD. Sappho. Paris, 1851. La Nonne Sanglante. Le Me'dccin malgre Lui. 1858. Faust. Paris (Theatre Lyrique), March 19, 1859. Philemon ct Baucis. Paris, 1860. Colorabe. Baden-Baden, 1860. Le Fancon. Baden-Baden, 1861. La Heine de Saba. Paris, 1861. GLOVER. Aminta. London, 1852. Ruy Bias. London, Oct. 24, 1861 . MELLON. Victorine. Covent Garden, 1859. Paris, 1854. Paris, Note. — This List of Operas docs not, with very few exceptions, include Operettas, Musical Pieces, Musical Farces, Entertainments, or Interludes. J ALPHABETICAL LIST OF DRAMATIC COMPOSERS NOT PRE-EMINENT AS OPERATIC WRITERS. Abadia. Bigaglia. Gary. Dugazon. Abert. Biletta, Cavalli. Duggan. Acciajuoli. Bioni, Champein. Dumoulin. Aimon. Blaise. Chancoiirtois. Duprato. Alary. Blamont. Chapelle(P.D.A.). Duprcz. Albiiioni. Blangini. Charpentier (M. Durette. Aldrovrandini. Blavet. A.). Dutillieu. Alessandri. Blum. Chelard. Andreozzi. Blumenthal. Chelleri. Ebell. Apell. Boieldieu(Adrien) Chiaramonte. Eccles. Ardita. Boisselot. Chiochetti. Eckert. Arienzo (d'). Bondineri. Ciampi. Ehrlich. Arion. Boniventi. Ciebra (Jose de). Eisner. Ariosti. Bononcini. Clapisson. Erkel. Arrietta. Borde (Ue la). Clayton. Astaritta. Boretti, Cocchi. Fabrizi. Attwood. Borghi. Conradi. Farinelli (J.). Boroni. Consolini. Federici. Barata (Dalla). Boscha. Conti. Fee. Barbate. Bottesini. Cooke. Ferrari (J. G.). Bassani. Bousquet. Coppola. Fe'tis. Batistin. Bouteiller. Cordans. Finger. Battista. Boyce. Cortesi. Fioravanti. Beck. Braeunich. Cousser (or Kns- Fischer (A.). Beer (Jules). Braga. ser). Fischietti. Beffroy de Keigny. Brandl. Cramer (F.). Floquct. Bellermann. Brassac. Foertsch. Benda (G. and F. Bristow. David (F.). Foignet. L.). Bronner. Davies. Fraenzl. Beninconi. Broschi (R.). Davy. Franck(J.-\V.) Benvenuti. Brown. Dcffcrrari. Francocur. Berendt. Brunetti (A. B.). Delia Maria. Bergson. Bruni. Deluse. Gail (Mdme.). Berlioz. Buini. Desmarets. Gambini. Bcrnabei. Dessaue. Garcia. Bernardini. Cacciati. Dezedc (or De- Gasparini (F.). Bernasconi. Cadaux. zaides). Gasse. Bertin (Mademoi- Cagnoni. Ditters de Ditters- Gassmann. selle Louise). Caldara. dorf. Gaveaux. Berton (P. M, and Campra. Doerstlinp. Gavinies. F.). Candeille. Dominicetti. Gazzaniga. Bertoni. Capecelatro. Dojipler. Gentili. Berwald. Capelli. Dorn. Gerl (or Gocrl). Bianchi (F.). Carrer. Dourlen. Gevaert. Bierey. Caruso. Draghi. Giacometti. Z2 538 ALPHABEUCAL LIST OF DRAMATIC COMPOSERS. Giardini. Laruette. Offenbach. Ritter. Roesler. Giordani (J.). Lasser. Orgitano. Giosa (Di). Leblanc. Orlandi. Roeth. Glinka. Leborne. Orlandini. Romani. Ronzi. Godefroi. Lebrun (L. S.). Ottani. GoUmick. Le'gat de Furcy. Rooke. Grand. Lescot. Paganini (E.). Rosi. Graun. Leveridge. Paini. Rota. Rubinstein. Gresnick. Lillo. Pallavicino. Grisar. Liranander. Pappalardo. Rust. Guglielmi. Lindpaintner. Parenti. Guhr. Linley (T.). Pavesi. Sabadini. Giirrlich. Litolff. Pedrotti, Saint Amans. Gyrowetz. Liverati. Pellaert. Salvator. Lobe. Penso. Sanelli. Haeffner. Locke (M.). Pentenrieder. Sarmiento. Haeser (A. F.). Lotti. Perez. Schauensee. Hanssens. Louis. Peri. Schefer. Hart (J.). Louis (Mme.). Pernio. Schindelmeisser. Schmidt (J. P. S.). , Haydn (J. M.). Lucehesi. Perti. Heinricken. Lutz (Meyer). Pescetti. Schuster. '' Hellwig. Petrella. Schwab. ' Helmesberger. Mabellini. Petrocini. Schwanberg. Hermann. Maillard. Philidor(F.A.D.). Schweitzer. j Hiller. Maillart. Piccinni (Louis). Sciroli. ! Himmel. Mangold. Pignatta. Scolari. Holzbauer. Mansfield. Pistilli. Seechi. ! Horn(Clias.Ed.). Marais. Pixis. Sellenik. ' Huber. Marschner. Poise. Semet. HuUah (J.). Masse'. Polarolo (or Polla- Simons Candeille Mattheson. rolo). (Mme.). Inenga. Mazzinghi. Ponchielli. Sinico. Smith (Robt.). Membree. Porta (Jean). Jadin(L.E.). Micelli. Potier. Sola. J Jones. Michl. Predieri (L. A.). Solie'. 1 Jozzi. Mijore. Propriac. Soliva. 1 Jullien. Milototti. Pucitta. Spaeth. 1 Minoja. Pugnani. Steibelt. Kaffka. Mononyi. Puzone. Stolz. Keiser. Monteverde. Puzzi. Stopler. Kelly. Montfort. Strungk. King. Monti. Raff. Stukersky. Kinki. Morel. Raimondi. Sussmayer. Kirchliof. Moroni. Rampini. Kittel. Mortcllari. Raphael. Taddei. Kozeluch (J. A. Mosca. Rastrelli. Tadolini. and L.). Moscenza. Rauzzini Tarchi. Krcube. Moscuzzi. Rebel. Taubert. ;| Krieger. Mouret. Reeve. Taylor. Muhle. Reicha. Tell. 1 Labarre. Muzio. Reissiger. Thalberg. ] Lampe (J. F.). Ressell. Tommasi. ^ Lampugnani. Nargiller. Reyer. Tori (or Torri). Langert. Naumann. Ricci (F. and L.). Tozzi. Langle. Nicosia. Righi. Traversari. jj Lannoy. Nini. Righini. Trento. | ALPHABETICAL LIST OF DKAilATIC COMPOSEES. 539 Tritto. Vento. Weber (C. G. and Wolfram (J.). Tuczck. Vera. B. A.). Wollanck. TuUy. Villebois. Wely. Wraniczky (or Umlauff. Villebranch, Vivaldi. Wcrstowski. Westmeyer. Wranitzky). Wiirst. Valente. Vivier. Williams. Vancorbeil. Witt. Ziani. Van der Does. Wagner. Woelffl. Zoppi. Vannacci. Webbe (E.). Wolf (E. G.). Zumsteeg. Note. — An enumeration of the works of these Dramatic Composers will, for the greater part, be found in the Dictionnaire des Musiciens of AI. Fe'tis. « INDEX. Adam (Adolphe), 534. Addison— his "Fair llosamond," 21. "Agrippina" (llandul), 20. Alboni (Madame), 439. Ambrogetti, '230. Anfossi, 5-'2. "Armide" (LiiUi), 40. Arne (Dr.),51T. Aniold, 520. Arnould (Sophie), 80. " Artaxerxe.-i" (Arne), 1C5. Auber, 31S, 324, 533. Ayrton (director of the King'a Theatre), 214, 218, 246. Bach (John Chriatlan), 521. Balfe, 534. Uarbaja, 21T. Barnett, 035. 15arone.s3 (The), 20. Bates (Joah), 110, 111. Beethoven, 529. " Bcggai's (Jpera" (The), 36, 517. Bellini (Vincenzo), 263, 357, 360, 366, 367, D68, 534. Benedict, 534. Bernard (John), l."}5. Billington (Elizabeth), 153. Bi.«hop, 529. Boieldieu, 528. Boachi, 28, 29. Bosio (Angiolina), 451. Brahara (John), 146, 147, 148, 149, 1G4, 204, 214, 281. Camporeae (Violante), 228. Caradori (Koaalbina), 235. Carafa, 531. Caros (director of La Fenicc), 1S5. CatJilani (AngeUca), 183, 223, 303, 430. (Guglielmo), 190. Catel, 221, 528. Cherubini, 523. Choron (M.), 219, 384. Cimarosa, 522. Clairon (Mdlle.),90. Clayton (Thomas), 15, IS. "Clemenza di Tito" (Mozart), 170. Clive (Mrs.), 68. Coccia, 529. Cbmposers (List of), 537. Concialini (Charles), 102, 104. Congreve, 37. Costa, 534. Crescentini, 173, ISO. Crivelli, 230. Croelius, 401. Crouch (Mr!=.1, 125. Cruvelli (Sophie), 483. Cuzzoni (Signora), 62, Dalavrac, 524. Daly'(Richard), 155. Damoreau (Madame Cinti), 22L Delany (Mrs.), 30, 40. Devrient (Madame Schroder), 28S. Dibdin, 525. Donizetti, 263, 376, 377, 415, 416, 419, 531. Donzelli, 242, 345, 307. Dumenil, 48. Duprez, 320, 416. Durastanti (Margherita), 29 Elliston, 272. Entraigucs (Count d'), 96. Epine (Margarita de I'), 15. Falcon (Cornelie), 323. Farinelli, 5S, 00. Fassmann (Mdlle. Von), 3S9. Faustina (Signora), 53. Fcnton (Lavinia), Duchess of Bolton, 35. Fisher (violinist), 141. Flotow, 534. Fodor (Madame Mainville), 213, 252, 299. Francoeur, 81. Frederick the Great, 61,100, 102, 103, 105. French Opera, 43. Gabriclli (Catarina),71. Galli (Filippo), -147. Gallia (Maria Margherita), 17. Gallo (director of the Teatro Emeronnitio), 350. Galuppi, 516. Garcia (Manuel), 216, 33ft, 333, 336-337, 347, 353,401. (.Manuel, jr.), 426,465. Gay, 30, 40 Gencrali, 528. George (Mi.s.«), ICO. Giardini (Felice), 59, 67, 6?, 70. Glover, 53.'). Gliick. 46, 87, 92, 518. Gnccco, 533. Goldi-chniidt (M. Otto), 481. Gossec, .'>20. Gounod. S.'iO. Graa (Madame Doru?), 313, 431. Grassini (Madame', 173, 1S2. Greber (Giacomo), 10, 19. Gretry, 520. Grisi (Carlotta), 310. (Giuditta), 363, 369, 370. (Giulia), 363. Gii.idagni, 72. Guimard (Mdlle.), 140. " Gustave" (Auber), 318, 324. Ilalovy, 320, .533. HaU (Jack), 38. >\mijjiy 542 Handel, 28, 29, 31, 52, 55, 5S, 59, 515. Festival, 109. Harrington, Dr., 99. Hasse, 60, 64, 66, 516. Haydn, 160, 521. Hayes (Catharine), 423. Herold, 318, 533. Huberty (Madame St.), 9L Hugo (Victor), 449. "Hugupnots" (Les), 325-32T. Hummel, 529. Isouard (Nicolo), 526. Johnson (Dr.), 127. Jomelli, 517. Joseph (Emperor), 108, 140. Josephine (Empress), 176. Kelly (Michael), 113, 131, 132, 134, 140, 142, 143, ITS, 209. Kemble, 128. Kreutzer, 525. Kunzen, 526. Lablache, 264, 350, 353, 359, 425, 426, 455, 472. Lanza, 2G7. Lauraguais (Count de), 82, 85, 90. Leo (Leonardo), 517. Lesueur, 524. Lind-Goldschmidt (Madame), 461-. Linley,126. Loder, 535. Lulli, 43, 44, 515. Luraley (Mr.), 311. Lundberg (Frau), 461. Macfarren, 535. Malibran (Madame), 241, 306, 807, 330, 386, 418. Mara (Madame'), 97. Mario (Signor), 375, 376, 422. Martini, 522. Mason (Monck), 292. Maupin (Mdlle. de), 46. Mayer, 528. M«5hul, 525. MeUon, 535. Jlercadante, 532. Metastasio, 65, 73. Meyerbeer, 239, 315, 318, 819, 326, 448, 466, 468, 488, 532. Mingotti (Catariua), 63. Monsigny, 518. Morelii, 144. Morlacchi, 530. Mozart, 520. Musical Riv.alries and Disputes, 18, 53, 68, 88, 214, 21S, -241, 242, 306, 335, 3T7, 390, 432, 449, 4:i8. Napoleon, 172, 174, 176, 180, 191. Nasolini, 526. Naumann, 522. Niccolini, 527. Niederraeyer, 534. * Nisscn (.Mdlle.), 465. "Norma" (Bellini), 367. Nourrit (.\dolphe), 317, 320, 325,326, 402. Novello (Madame Clara), 333. (Vincent), 383, 384. "Oberon" (Weber), 280. Operas (List of), 515. rtti, 76, 77,117. ,»31. Paer, 524. Paisiello, 518. Parke (oboe player), 119. Parodi (Mdlle.), 266. " Pasquale, Don" (Donizetti), 376, 377. Pasta (Madame), 218, 246, 841, 366, 367, 875. Paton (Mary Anne), 274. Pepusch (Dr.), 22, 25, 37. Pergolese, 517. Persiani (Elisa), 414. (Fanny), 413. (Joseph), 534. Persuis, 524. Peterborough (Earl of), 30, Piccini, 93, 94, 523. Piccolomini (Mdlle.), 493. Pisaronl (Madame), 238. Plantade (M.), 221. Porpora, 517. Portogallo, 526. Pozzi (Anna), 78. Piicke (Count), 461. "Puritani, 1" (Bellini), 371. Purcell,515. Pyne (Miss), 502. Quin, 37. .Quinault, 44, 45. Ragani (Colonel), 181, 364, 374, 455. 'Raraeaii, 86, 517. Rauzzini, 76. Reeves (Mr. Sims), 432. Reichardt, 522. Rich, 36, 37. "Rigoletto" (Verdi), 453. "Robert le Diable" (Meyerbeer), 226, 285, 316. Robinson (Mrs. Anastasia), 25, 26. Rochois (Marthe le), 43. Rochefoucault (M. le Vicomte Sosthenes), 217, 240, 302. Rossini, 216, 219, 224, 225, 317, 319, 375, 439, 530. Rubini, 264, 352, 419, 420, 429, 455. Sacchini, 519. Salaries given to Vocalists, 57, 58, 60, 75, 76, 79, 103, ICS, 156, 153, 165, 177, 186, 192, 195, 204, 210, 233, 257, 259, 263, 272, 303, 306, 309, 311, 321, 334, 844, 848, 351, nr,4, 355, 378, 419, 421, 430, 446, 455, 470, 7, 479, 488, 489. Salieri, 521. Salmon (Mrs.), 193, 204. Sarti, 518. Scarlatti, 515. Schira, 535. Schroder (Sophia), 288. Senesino, 28, 30, 58, 59. Shaw (Mrs. A.), 388, 393. Sheridan, his "PizaiTO," 185, 138. ty Shield, 160, 523. Sontag (llem-ietta), 242, 296, 849. (Nina), 307. Spohr, 530. Spontini, 527. Sta\idigl, 393. Stephens (Catharine), 207. Storace (Anna Selina), 138. (Stephen), 134, 142, 143, 146,146, 626. St. Petersburg (Theatres of), 450. iC' wr'i 543 Sunday Operas, 258. Swift, 24, 30. Swiney (Owen Mac), lH, 20, 22. Tacchinardi, 413, 414, 422. Tamburini, 370. Tcnducci, 104. Thomas (-■imbroise), 535. Tietjens (Mdllc.), 507. Todi (Madame), JO!). Tofte (Katherine), 15. Traetta, 527. Tree (Miss A. M.), 27G. Ungher (Madame), 371. Vaccaj, 533. Valentini, 20. Vaneschi (director of the King's Theatre), 67. Velluti, 335. Verdi, -152, 45.% 40T, 537. Viiron (Dr.), 315, 316, 319, 825. Vestris (Madame), 282. Viardot (M.),35-.', 406. (Madame Pauline), 398. Vinci. 510. Vogler, 523. Voice (capabilities of the), 78. Walker (Tom), 37, 41. Wallace, 535 Weber, 280, 282, 290, .532. Weichsel (CharlfP), 153, 154, 161. fMrs.), 153. Weigl, 5.'i0. Winter, 529. Woffiugton(Peg),40. Zingarelli, 523. THE EXD. I' I V5^ v-^ ffir^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. m ,1';.^ i " '" QUARTER LOAN FEB 2 1 1977 APR 4 1977 • #^^^^^ Wl f ■^ i-'S^ Semi ft"" '""" SenVftfinn-y'-ojn MAY 6 1991 REC'D MUS-Cra NOV 2 3 1990 f tB 2 4 "»* FEB 2 a )994 Form L9-Series 4939 ML 400 C57q L 006 959 887 8 MUSIC ilBRARY ML Uoo C57q UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 523 206 i ^ i