GREAT SINGERS

FAUSTINA BORDONI TO HENRIETTA SONTAG

FIRST SERIES

BY

GEORGE T. FERRIS

1891

Copyright, 1879, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 

NOTE. 

In compiling and arranging the material which enters into the followingsketches of distinguished singers, it is only honest to disclaim anyoriginality except such as may be involved in a picturesque presentationof facts. The compiler has drawn freely from a great variety of sources, and has been simply guided by the desire to give the reading publicsuch a digest of the more important incidents in the careers ofthe celebrities treated of as should be at once compact, racy, andaccurate. To serve this purpose the opinions and descriptions of writersand critics contemporary with the subjects have been used at length, andno means overlooked to give the sketches that atmosphere of freshnesswhich is the outcome of personal observation. All that a compilation ofthis kind can hope to effect is best gained in preserving this kindof vividness, instead of revamping impressions and opinions intosecond-hand forms. Pains have been taken to verify dates and facts, andit is believed they will be found trustworthy. 

It will be observed that many well-known singers have been omitted, ortreated only incidentally: among the earlier singers, such as Anas-tasiaRobinson, Mingotti, Anna Maria Crouch, and Anna Selina Storace; amongmore recent ones, such as Mmes. Fodor, Cinti-Damoreau, Camperese, Pisaroni, Miss Catherine Stephens, Mrs. Paton-Wood, Mme. Dorus-Gras, andCornelie Falcon. This omission has been indispensable in a work whosepurpose has been to cover only the lives of the very great namesin operatic art, as the question of limit has been inflexible. Asupplementary volume will give similar sketches of later celebrities. 

The works from which material has been most freely drawn are as follows:Bernard's "Retrospection of the Stage"; Dr. Burney's various historiesof music; Chorley's "Thirty Years' Musical Recollections"; Dibdin's"Complete History of the English Stage"; Ebers's "Seven Years of theKing's Theatre"; Fétis's "Biographie des Musiciens"; Hogarth's "MusicalDrama"; Sutherland Edwards's "History of the Opera"; Arsène Houssaye's"Galerie des Portraits"; Michael Kelly's "Reminiscences"; Lord MountEdgcumbe's "Musical Reminiscences"; Oxberry's "Dramatic Biography andHistrionic Anecdotes"; Mrs. Clayton's "Queens of Song"; Arthur Simpson's"Memoirs of Catalani"; and Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians. "

CONTENTS. 

FAUSTINA BORDONI. 

The Art-Battles of Handel's Time. --The Feud between Cuzzoniand Faustina. --The Character of the Two Rivals as Women andArtists. --Faustina's Career. --Her Marriage with Adolph Hasse, andsomething about the Composer's Music. --Their Dresden Life. --Cuzzoni'sLatter Years. --Sketch of the Great Singer Farinelli. --The Old Age ofHasse and Faustina

CATARINA GABRIELLI. 

The Cardinal and the Daughter of the Cook. --The Young Prima Donna's_Début_ in Lucca. --Dr. Burney's Description of Gabrielli. --HerCaprices, Extravagances, and Meeting with Metastasio. --Her Adventuresin Vienna. --Bry-done on Gabrielli. --Episodes of her Career in Sicilyand Parma. --She sings at the Court of Catharine of Russia. --Sketchesol Caffarelli and Pacchierotti. --Gabrielli in London, and her FinalRetirement from Art

SOPHIE ARNOULD. 

The French Stage as seen by Rousseau. --Intellectual Ferment of thePeriod. --Sophie Arnould, the Queen of the most Brilliant of ParisSalons. --Her Early Life and Connection with Comte de Lauraguais. --HerReputation as the Wittiest Woman of the Age. --Art Association with theGreat German Composer, Gluck. --The Rivalries and Dissensions of thePeriod. --Sophie's Rivals and Contemporaries, Madame St. Huberty, the Vestrises Father and Son, Madelaine Guimard. --Opera during theRevolution. --The Closing Days of Sophie Arnould's Life. --Lord MountEdgcumbe's Opinion of her as an Artist

ELIZABETH BILLINGTON AND HER CONTEMPORARIES. 

Elizabeth Weichsel's Runaway Marriage. --__Début__ at CoventGarden. --Lord Mount Edgcumbe's Opinion of her Singing. --Her Rivalry withMme. Mara. --Mrs. Billington's Greatness in English Opera. --She sings inItaly in 1794-'99. --Her Great Power on the Italian Stage. --Marriage withFelican. --Reappearance in London in Italian and English Opera. --Sketchof Mme. Mara's Early Life. --Her Great Triumphs on the EnglishStage. --Anecdotes of her Career and her Retirement fromEngland. --Grassini and Napoleon. --The Italian Prima Donna disputesSovereignty with Mrs. Billington. --Her Qualities as an Artist. --Mrs. Billington's Retirement from the Stage and Declining Years

ANGELICA CATALANI. 

The Girlhood of Catalani. --She makes her __Début__ in Florence. --Description of her Marvelous Vocalism. --The Romance of Love andMarriage. --Her Preference for the Concert Stage. --She meets Napoleon inParis. --Her Escape from France and Appearance in London. --Opinionsof Lord Mount Edgcumbe and other Critics. --Anecdotes of herself andHusband. --The Great Prima Donna's Character. --Her Gradual Divergencefrom Good Taste in singing. --_Bon Mots_ of the Wits of the Day. --TheOpera-house Riot. --Her Husband's Avarice. --Grand Concert Tour throughEurope. --She meets Goethe. --Her Return to England and BrilliantReception. --She sings with the Tenor Braham. --John Braham's ArtisticCareer. --The Davides. --Catalani's Last English Appearance, and theOpinion of Critics. --Her Retirement and Death

GIUDITTA PASTA. 

Greatness of Genius overcoming Disqualification. --The CharacteristicLesson of Pasta's Life. --Her First Appearance and Failure. --Pastareturns to Italy and devotes herself to Study. --Her First GreatSuccesses in 1819. --Characteristics of her Voice and Singing. --Chorley'sReview of the Impressions made on him by Pasta. --She makes her Triumphal_Début_ in Paris. --Talma on Pasta's Acting. --Her Performances of"Giulietta" and "Tancredi. "--Medea, Pasta's Grandest Impersonation, isgiven to the World. --Description of the Performance. --Enthusiasm of theCritics and the Public. --Introduction of Pasta to the English Public inRossini's "Otello. "--The Impression made in England. --Recognized asthe Greatest Dramatic Prima Donna in the World. --Glances at the SalientFacts of her English Career. --The Performance of "Il Crociato inEgitto. "--She plays the Male _Rôle_ "Otello. "--Rivalry with Malibranand Sontag. --The Founder of a New School of Singing. --Pasta creates theLeading _Rôles_ in Bellini's "Sonnambula" and "Norma" and Donizetti's"Anna Bolena. "--Decadence and Retirement

HENRIETTA SONTAG. 

The Greatest German Singer of the Century. --Her Characteristics as anArtist. --Her Childhood and Early Training. --Her Early Appearances inWeimar, Berlin, and Leipsic. --She becomes the Idol of the Public. --HerCharms as a Woman and Romantic Incidents of her Youth. --Becomesaffianced to Count Rossi. --Prejudice against her in Paris, and herVictory over the Public Hostility. --She becomes the Pet of Aristocratic_Salons_. --Rivalry with Malibran. --Her _Début_ in London, where sheis welcomed with Great Enthusiasm. --Returns to Paris. --Anecdotes of herCareer in the French Capital. --She becomes reconciled with Malibran inLondon. --Her Secret Marriage with Count Rossi. --She retires from theStage as the Wife of an Ambassador. --Return to her Profession afterEighteen Years of Absence. --The Wonderful Success of her Youthrenewed. --Her American Tour. --Attacked with Cholera in Mexico and dies. 

GREAT SINGERS, FROM FAUSTINA BORDONI TO HENRIETTA SONTAG. 

FAUSTINA BORDONI. 

The Art-Battles of Handel's Time. --The Feud between Cuzzoniand Faustina. --The Character of the Two Rivals as Women andArtists. --Faustina's Career. --Her Marriage with Adolph Hasse, andsomething about the Composer's Music. --Their Dresden Life. --Cuzzoni'sLatter Years. --Sketch of the Great Singer Farinelli. --The Old Age ofhasse and Faustina. 

I. 

During the early portion of the eighteenth century the art of the stageexcited the interests and passions of the English public to a degreenever equaled since. Politics and religion hardly surpassed it in thepower of creating cabals and sects and in stirring up animosities. Thiswas specially marked in music. The great Handel, who had not then foundhis true vocation as an oratorio composer, was in the culmination ofhis power as manager of the opera, though he was irritated by hostilefactions. The musical quarrels of the time were almost as interesting asthe Gluck-Piccini war in Paris in the latter part of the same century, and the _literati_ took part in it with a zest and wit not less piquantand noticeable. Handel, serenely grand in his musical conceptions, waspersonally passionate and fretful; and the contest of satire, scandal, and witticism raged without intermission between him and his rivals, supported on each hand by princes and nobles, and also by the greatdignitaries of the republic of letters. In this tumult the singers(always a _genus irritabile_, like the race of poets) who belonged tothe opera companies took an active part. 

Not the least noteworthy episode of this conflict was the feud betweentwo foremost sirens of the lyric stage, Francesca Cuzzoni and FaustinaBordoni. When the brilliant Faustina appeared in London, as a freshimportation of Handel, who was as indefatigable in purveying noveltiesas any modern Mapleson or Strakosch, Cuzzoni was the idol of the public, having succeeded to that honor after Anastasia Robinson retired fromthe stage as Countess of Peterborough. Handel some years before hadintroduced Cuzzoni to the English stage, and, though kept in constantturmoil by her insolence and caprice, had taken great pains to displayher fine voice by the composition of airs specially suited to her. It isrecorded that one morning, after she had refused at rehearsal to sing asong written for her by the master, such rage took possession of Handelthat he seized her fiercely, and threatened to hurl her from the windowunless she succumbed. One of the arias composed for this singer extortedfrom Main-waring, a musician bitterly at odds with Handel, the remark, "The great bear was certainly inspired when he wrote that song. "

Cuzzoni's popularity with the public had so augmented her native conceitand insolence as to make a rival unbearable. Though she was ugly and illmade, of a turbulent and obstinate temper, ungrateful and capricious, she deported herself as if she possessed all the graces of beauty, art, and genius, and regarded the allegiance of the public as her nativeright. London had indeed given her some claim to this arrogance, asfrom the first it had treated her with brilliant distinction, so thatfashionable ladies had adopted the style of her stage dresses, and duelswere fought by the young "bucks" and "swells" of the time over the rightto escort her to her carriage. The bitterness with which Cuzzoni hatedFaustina was aggravated by the fact that the latter, in addition to hergreat ability as a singer, was younger, far more beautiful, and of mostfascinating and amiable manner. Handel and the directors of the King'stheatre were in ecstasies that they had secured two such exquisitesingers; but their joy was destined to receive a sudden check in thebitter squabbles which speedily arose. Indeed, the two singers did notmeet in battle for the first time, for seven years before they hadbeen rival candidates for favor in Italy. Faustina Bordoni possessedremarkable beauty of figure and face, an expression full of fire andintelligence, to which she united tact, amiability, and prudence. Assingers the rivals were nearly equal; for Faustina, while surpassing theCuzzoni in power of execution, had not the command of expression whichmade the latter's art so pathetic and touching. Dr. Barney, the musicalhistorian, and father of Madame d'Arblay, describes Cuzzoni in thesewords: "A native warble enabled her to execute divisions with suchfacility as to conceal every appearance of difficulty; and so soft andtouching was the natural tone of her voice, that she rendered patheticwhatever she sang, in which she had leisure to unfold its whole volume. The art of conducting, sustaining, increasing, and diminishing hertones by minute degrees, acquired for her among professors the title ofcomplete mistress of her art. In a canta-bile air, though the notes sheadded were few, she never lost a favorable opportunity of enriching thecantilena with all the refinements and embellishments of the time. Her shake was perfect; she had a creative fancy, and the power ofoccasionally accelerating and retarding the measure in the mostartificial manner by what the Italians call _tempo rubato_. Her highnotes were unrivaled in clearness and sweetness, and her intonationswere so just and fixed that it seemed as if it were not in her powerto sing out of tune. " The celebrated flute-player Quantz, instructor ofFrederick II. , also gave Dr. Burney the following account of Faustina'sartistic qualities: "Faustina had a mezzo-soprano voice, that was lessclear than penetrating. Her compass now was only from B flat to G inalt; but after this time she extended its limits downward. She possessedwhat the Italians call _un cantar granito_; her execution was articulateand brilliant. She had a fluent tongue for pronouncing words rapidlyand distinctly, and a flexible throat for divisions, with so beautiful ashake that she put it in motion upon short notice, just when she would. The passages might be smooth, or by leaps, or consisting of iterationsof the same note; their execution was equally easy to her as to anyinstrument whatever. She was, doubtless, the first who introduced withsuccess a swift repetition of the same note. She sang adagios with greatpassion and expression, but was not equally successful if such deepsorrow were to be impressed on the hearer as might require dragging, sliding, or notes of syncopation and _tempo rubato_. She had a veryhappy memory in arbitrary changes and embellishments, and a clear andquick judgment in giving to words their full value and expression. Inher action she was very happy; and as her performance possessed thatflexibility of muscles and face-play which constitute expression, shesucceeded equally well in furious, tender, and amorous parts. In short, she was born for singing and acting. "

Faustina's amiability would have kept her on good terms with a rival;but Cuzzoni's malice and envy ignored the fact that their respectivequalities were rather adapted to complement than to vie with each other. Handel, who had a world of trouble with his singers, strove to keep themon amicable terms, but without success. The town was divided into twoparties: the Cuzzoni faction was headed by the Countess of Pembroke, andthat of Faustina by the Countess of Burlington and Lady Delawar, whilethe men most loudly declared for the Venetian beauty. 

At last the feud came to a climax. On the 20th of June, 1727, abrilliant gathering of rank and fashion filled the opera-house to hearthe two _prime donne_, who were to sing together. On their appearancethey were received with a storm of mingled hissing and clapping ofhands, which soon augmented into a hurricane of catcalls, shrieking, and stamping. Even the presence of royalty could not restrain thewild uproar, and accomplished women of the world took part in thesediscordant sounds. Dr. Arbuthnot, in alluding to the disgraceful scene, wrote in the "London Journal" this stinging rebuke: "Æsop's story of thecat, who, at the petition of her lover, was changed into a fine woman, is pretty well known; notwithstanding which alteration, we find thatupon the appearance of a mouse she could not resist the temptation ofspringing out of his arms, though it was on the very wedding night. Our English audience have been for some time returning to their cattishnature, of which some particular sounds from the gallery have given ussufficient warning. And since they have so openly declared themselves, Imust only desire that they must not think they can put on the fine womanagain just when they please, but content themselves with their skill incaterwauling. " The following epigram was called out by the proceedingsof the evening, which were mostly stimulated by the Pembroke party, whosupported Cuzzoni:

 "Old poets sing that beasts did dance Whenever Orpheus played: So to Faustina's charming voice Wise Pembroke's asses brayed. "

The two fair cantatrices even forgot themselves so far as to come toblows on several occasions, and the scandalous chronicle of the timeswas enlivened with epigrams, lampoons, libels, and duels in rapidsuccession. This amusing but disgraceful feud was burlesqued in afarce called "Contretemps, or The Rival Queens, " which was performed atHeidigger's theatre. Faustina as the _Queen of Bologna_ and Cuzzonias _Princess of Modena_ were made to seize each other by the hair, andlacerate each other's faces. Handel looks on with cynical attention, andcalmly orders that the antagonists be "left to fight it out, inasmuch asthe only way to calm their fury is to let them satisfy it. "

The directors of the opera finally solved the difficulty in thefollowing manner: Cuzzoni had solemnly sworn never to accept a guinealess than her rival. As Faustina was far more attractive and manageable, she was offered just one guinea more than Cuzzoni, who learning the factbroke her contract in a fury of indignation, and accepted a Vienneseengagement. The well-known Ambrose Philips addressed the followingfarewell lines to the wrathful singer:

 "Little siren of the stage, Charmer of an idle age, Empty warbler, breathing lyre, Wanton gale of fond desire; Bane of every manly art, Sweet enfeebler of the heart; Oh! too pleasing is thy strain. Hence to southern climes again, Tuneful mischief, vocal spell; To this island bid farewell: Leave us as we ought to be-- Leave the Britons rough and free. "

II. 

Faustina Bordoni, who from the time of her radiant _début_ was known asthe "New Siren, " was the daughter of a noble Venetian family, formerlyone of the governing families of the republic. Born in the year1700, she began to study her art at an early age under Gasparoni, whodeveloped a beautiful and flexible voice to the greatest advantage. She made her first appearance at the age of sixteen in Pollarolo's"Ariodante, " and her beauty, which was ravishing, her exquisite voice, dramatic power, and artistic skill, gave her an immediate place as oneof the greatest ornaments of the lyric stage. She came into rivalry withCuzzoni even at this early period, but carried off the palm of victoryas she did in after-years. Venice, Naples, Florence, and Vienna weresuccessively the scenes of her triumphant reign as an artist, and shebecame acknowledged as the most brilliant singer in Europe. At Viennashe was appointed court singer at a salary of fifteen thousand thalers. Here she was found by Handel, who carried her to London, where she madeher _début_ May 5, 1726, in that great composer's "Alessandro, " veryappropriately singing _Statira_ to the _Roxana_ of Cuzzoni. Faustina'samiable and unobtrusive character seems to have made her an unwillingparticipant in the quarrels into which circumstances forced her, andto have always deserved the eulogium pronounced by Apostolo Zeno on herdeparture from Vienna: "But whatever good fortune she meets with, shemerits it all by her courteous and polite manners, as well as talents, with which she has enchanted and gained the esteem and affection of thewhole court. " Throughout life a sweet temper and unspotted purity ofcharacter made her the idol of her friends as well as of the generalpublic. Faustina seems to have left London gladly, though her shortcareer of two years there was a brilliant artistic success. Thescandalous bickerings and feuds through which she passed made herdeparture more of a pleasure to herself than to the lovers of music inturbulent London. 

She returned to Venice in 1728, where she met Adolph Hasse, who wasleader of the orchestra at the theatre in which she was engaged. Faustina, in the full bloom of her loveliness, was more than ever theobject of popular adulation; and many of the wealthy young nobles ofVenice laid their names and fortunes at her feet. But the charmingsinger had found her fate. She and Hasse had fallen in love with eachother at first sight, and Faustina was proof against the blandishmentsof the gilded youth of Italy. Hasse was the most popular dramaticcomposer of the age, and had so endeared himself to the Italian publicthat he was known as "_il caro Sassone_, " a title which had also beenpreviously given to Handel. Hasse had commenced life as a tenor singer, but his talent for composition soon lifted him into a higher field ofeffort. His first opera was produced at Brunswick, but its receptionshowed that he must yet master more of the heights and depths of musicalscience before attaining any deserved success. So he proceeded to Italy, and studied under Porpora and Alessandro Scarlatti. In a few years hebecame a celebrity, and the opera-houses of Italy eagerly vied with eachother in procuring new works from his fecund talent. Faustina, thenat the zenith of her powers and charms, and Hasse, the most admiredcomposer of the day, were congenial mates, and their marriage was notlong delayed. 

Of this composer a few passing words of summary may be interesting. Hiscareer was one long success, and he wrote more than a hundred operas, besides a host of other compositions. Few composers have had duringtheir lifetime such world-wide celebrity, and of these few none areso completely forgotten now. The facile powers of Hasse seem to havereflected the most genial though not the deepest influences of his time. He had nothing in common with the grand German school then rising intonotice, or with the simple majesty of the early Italian writers. Himselforiginally a singer, and living in an age of brilliant singers, he wasone of the first representatives of that school of Italian opera whichwas called into being by the worship of vocal art for its own sake. Hehad an inexhaustible flow of tunefulness, and the few charming songsof his now extant show great elegance of melodic structure, and suchsympathy with the needs of the voice as make them the most perfectvehicle for expression and display on the part of the singer. For tenyears, that most wonderful of male singers, as musical historians unitein calling Farinelli, charmed away the melancholy of Philip V. Of Spainby singing to him every evening the same two melodies of Hasse, takenfrom the opera of "Artaserse. "

In 1731 the celebrated couple accepted an offer from the brilliant Courtof Dresden, presided over by Augustus II. , as great a lover of art andliterature as Goethe's Duke of Saxe-Weimar, or as the present Louis ofBavaria. This aesthetic monarch squandered great sums on pictures andmusic, and gave Hasse unlimited power and resources to place the Dresdenopera on such a footing as to make it foremost in Europe. His firstopera produced in Dresden was the masterpiece of his life, "Alessandrodell' Indie, " and its great success was perhaps owing in part to thesplendid singing and acting of Faustina, for whom indeed the music hadbeen carefully designed. As the husband of the most fascinating primadonna of her age, Hasse had no easy time. His life was still furtherembittered by the presence and intrigues of Porpora, his old master andnow rival, and jealousy of Porpora's pupil, Mingotti, who threatened todispute the sway of his wife. Hasse's musical spite was amusingly shownin writing an air for Mingotti in his "Demofoonte. " He composed themusic for what he thought was the defective part of her voice, while theaccompaniment was contrived to destroy all effect. Mingotti was nothingdaunted, but by hard study and ingenious adaptation so conquered thedifficulties of the air, that it became one of her greatest show-pieces. A combination of various causes so dissatisfied the composer withDresden, that he divided his time between that city, Venice, Milan, Naples, and London, though the Saxon capital remained his professedhome. One of his diversions was the establishment of opera in London inopposition to Handel; but he became so ardent an admirer of that greatman's genius, that he refused to be a tool in the hands of the latter'senemies, though several of his operas met with brilliant success in theEnglish capital. 

Dresden life at last flowed more easily with Hasse and Faustina on theadvent of Augustus III. , who possessed his father's connoisseurshipwithout his crotchets and favoritism. Here he remained, with theexception of a short Venetian sojourn, till late in life. On the eveningof Frederick the Great's entrance into Dresden in 1745, after the battleof Kesselsdorf, Hasse's opera of "Arminio" was performed by command ofthe conqueror, who was so charmed with the work and Faustina's singingthat he invited the composer and wife to Berlin. During the PrussianKing's occupation he made Faustina many magnificent gifts, anexceptional generosity in one who was one of the most penurious ofmonarchs as well as one of the greatest of soldiers. Faustina continuedto sing for eight years longer, when, at the age of fifty-two, sheretired from the long art reign which she had enjoyed, having held herposition with unchanged success against all comers for nearly fortyyears. 

III. 

In notable contrast to the career of Faustina was that of her old-timerival, Cuzzoni. After the Venetian singer retired from London, Cuzzoniagain returned to fill an engagement with the opposition company formedby Handel's opponents. With her sang Farinelli and Senesino, the formerof whom was the great tenor singer of the age--perhaps the greatestwho ever lived, if we take the judgment of the majority of the musicalhistorians. Cuzzoni was again overshadowed by the splendid singing ofFarinelli, who produced an enthusiasm in London almost without parallel. Her haughty and arrogant temper could not brook such inferiority, andshe took the first opportunity to desert what she considered to be anungrateful public. We hear of her again as singing in different parts ofEurope, but always with declining prestige. In the London "Daily Post"of September 7, 1741, appeared a paragraph which startled her oldadmirers: "We hear from Italy that the famous singer, Mrs. C-z-ni, isunder sentence of death, to be beheaded for poisoning her husband. " Ifthis was so, the sentence was never carried into execution, for shesang seven years afterward in London at a benefit concert. She issueda preliminary advertisement, avouching her "pressing debts" and her"desire to pay them" as the reason for her asking the benefit, which, she declared, should be the last she would ever trouble the public with. Old, poor, and almost deprived of her voice by her infirmities, her attempt to revive the interest of the public in her favor was amiserable failure; her star was set for ever, and she was obligedto return to Holland more wretched than she came. She had scarcelyreappeared there when she was again thrown into prison for debt; but, by entering into an agreement to sing at the theatre every night, undersurveillance, she was enabled to obtain her release. Her recklessnessand improvidence had brought her to a pitiable condition; and in herlatter days, after a career of splendor, caprice, and extravagance, she was obliged to subsist, it is said, by button-making. She died infrightful indigence, the recipient of charity, at a hospital in Bologna, in 1770. 

IV. 

Associated with the life and times of Faustina Bordoni, and the mostbrilliant exponent of the music of her husband, Hasse, Carlo Broschi, better known as Farinelli, stands out as one of the most remarkablemusical figures of his age. This great artist, born in Naples in 1705, was the nephew of the composer Farinelli, whose name he adopted. He wasinstructed by the celebrated singing-master Porpora, who trained nearlyall the great voices of Europe for over half a century; and at his firstappearance in Rome, in 1722, common report had already made him famous. So wonderful was his execution, even at this early age, that he wasable to vie with a trumpet-player, then the admiration of Rome for hisremarkable powers. Porpora had written an obligato part to a song, inwhich his pupil rivaled the instrument in holding and swelling a note ofextraordinary purity and volume. The virtuoso's execution was masterly, but the young singer so surpassed him as to carry the enthusiasm of theaudience to the wildest pitch by the brilliance of his singing and thedifficult variations which he introduced. Farinelli left the guidanceof Porpora in 1724, and appeared in different European cities with asuccess which made him in three years a European celebrity. In 1727, while singing in Bologna, he met Bernacchi, at that time known as the"king of singers. " The rivals were matched against each other one nightin a grand duo, and Farinelli, freely admitting that the veteran artisthad vanquished him, begged some lessons from him. Bernacchi generouslyaccorded these, and took great pains with his young rival. Thus wasperfected the talent of Farinelli, who, to use the words of a moderncritic, was as "superior to the great singers of his own period as theywere to those of more recent times. "

After brilliant triumphs at Vienna, Rome, Naples, and Parma, where hesurpassed the most formidable rivals and was heaped with riches andhonors, he appeared before the Emperor Charles VI. Of Germany, amomentous occasion in his art-career. "You have hitherto excited onlyastonishment and admiration, " said the imperial connoisseur, "butyou have never touched the heart. It would be easy for you to createemotion, if you would but be more simple and natural. " The singeradopted this counsel, and became the most pathetic as he continued to bethe most brilliant of singers. 

The interest of Farinelli's London career will be augmented for thelovers of music by its connection with the contests carried on betweenHandel and his rivals, with which we have seen Faustina and Cuzzoni alsoto have been intimately associated. When Handel went on the Continentto secure artists for the year 1734, some prejudice operated against hisnegotiation with Farinelli, and the latter took service with Porpora, who had been secured by the Pembroke faction to lead the rival opera. Farinelli's singing turned the scale in favor of Handel's enemies, whohad previously hardly been able to keep the enterprise on its feet, andhad run in debt nineteen thousand pounds. He made his first appearanceat the Lincoln's Inn Opera in "Artaserse, " one of Hasse's operas. Several of the songs, however, were composed by Riccardo Broschi, the singer's brother, especially for him, and these interpolationsillustrated the powers of Farinelli in the most effective manner. In oneof these the first note was taken with such delicacy, swelled by minutedegrees to such an amazing volume, and afterward diminished in the samemanner to a mere point, that it was applauded for full five minutes. Afterward he set off with such brilliance and rapidity of execution thatthe violins could not keep pace with him. An incident commemoratedin Hogarth's "Rake's Progress" occurred at this time, A lady of rank, carried beyond herself by admiration of the great singer, leaned out ofher box and exclaimed, "One God and one Farinelli!" The great power ofthis singer's art is also happily set forth in the following anecdote:He was to appear for the first time with Senesino, another great singer, who of course was jealous of Farinelli's unequaled renown. The formerhad the part of a fierce tyrant, and Farinelli that of a hero in chains. But in the course of the first song by his rival, Senesino forgot hisassumed part altogether. He was so moved and delighted that, in front ofan immense audience, he rushed forward, clasped Farinelli in his arms, and burst into tears. Never had there been such a ferment among Englishpatrons of opera as was made by Farinelli's singing. The Prince of Walesgave him a gold snuff-box set with diamonds and rubies, in which wereinclosed diamond knee-buckles, and a purse of one hundred guineas. The courtiers and nobles followed in the wake of the Prince, and thecostliest offerings were lavished on this spoiled favorite of art. Hisincome during three years in London was five thousand pounds a year, to which must be added quite as much more in gratuities and presentsof different kinds. On his return to Italy he built a splendid mansion, which he christened the "English Folly. "

Farinelli's Spanish life was the most important episode in his career, if twenty-five years of experience may be called an episode. His purposein visiting Madrid in 1736 was to spend but a few months; but he arrivedin the Spanish capital at a critical moment, and Fate decreed thathe should take up a long residence here--a residence marked bycircumstances and honors without parallel in the life of any othersinger. Philip V. At this time was such a prey to depression that heneglected all the affairs of his kingdom. "When Farinelli arrived, the Queen arranged a concert at which the monarch could hear the greatsinger without being seen. The effect was remarkable, and Farinelligained the respect, admiration, and favor of the whole court. When hewas asked by the grateful monarch to name his own reward, he answeredthat his best recompense would be to know that the King was againreconciled to performing the active duties of his state. Philipconsidered that he owed his cure to the powers of Farinelli. The finalresult was that the singer separated himself from the world of art forever, and accepted a salary of fifty thousand francs to sing for theKing, as David harped for the mad King Saul. Farinelli told Dr. Burneythat during ten years he sang four songs to the King every night withoutany change. " When Ferdinand VI. , who was also a victim to his father'smalady, succeeded to the throne, the singer continued to perform hisminstrel cure, and acquired such enormous power and influence thatall court favor and office depended on his breath. Though never primeminister, Farinelli's political advice had such weight with Ferdinand, that generals, secretaries, ambassadors, and other high officialsconsulted with him, and attended his levee, as being the power behindthe throne. Farinelli acquired great wealth, but no malicious pen hasever ascribed to him any of the corrupt arts by which royal favoritesare wont to accumulate the spoils of office. In his prosperity he neverforgot prudence, modesty, and moderation. Hearing one day an old veteranofficer complain that the King ignored his thirty years of service whilehe enriched "a miserable actor, " Farinelli secured promotion for thegrumbler, and, giving the commission to the abashed soldier, mildlytaxed him for calling the King ungrateful. According to anotheranecdote, he requested an embassy for one of the courtiers. "Do you notknow, " said the King, "that this grandee is your deadly enemy?" "True, "replied Farinelli; "and this is the way I propose to get revenge. " Dr. Burney also relates the following anecdote: A tailor, who brought hima splendid court costume, refused any pay but a single song. After longrefusal Farinelli's good nature yielded, and he sang to the enrapturedman of the needle and shears, not one, but several songs. Afterconcluding he said: "I, too, am proud, and that is the reason perhaps ofmy advantage over other singers. I have yielded to you; it is but justthat you should yield to me. " Thereupon he forced on the tailor morethan double the price of the clothes. 

Farinelli's influence as a politician was always cast on the side ofnational honor and territorial integrity. When the new King, Charles III. , ascended the throne, being even then committed to theFranco-Neapolitan imbroglio, which was such a dark spot in the Spanishhistory of that time, Farinelli left Spain at the royal suggestion, which amounted to a command. The remaining twenty years of his life heresided in a splendid palace near Bologna, where he devoted his time andattention to patronage of learning and the arts. He collected a noblegallery of paintings from the hands of the principal Italian andSpanish masters. Among them was one representing himself in a group withMetastasio and Faustina Bordoni, for whose greatness as an artist andbeauty of character he always expressed the warmest admiration. ThoughFarinelli was all his life an idol with the women, his appearance wasnot prepossessing. Dibdin, speaking of him at the age of thirty, sayshe "was tall as a giant and as thin as a shadow; therefore, if hehad grace, it could only be of a sort to be envied by a penguin or aspider. "

To his supreme merit as an artist we have, however, overwhelmingtestimony. Out of the many enthusiastic descriptions of his singing, that of Mancini, after Porpora the greatest singing-master of the age, and the fellow pupil with Farinelli under Bernacchi, will serve: "Hisvoice was thought a marvel because it was so perfect, so powerful, sosonorous, and so rich in its extent, both in the high and low parts ofthe register, that its equal has never been heard. He was, moreover, endowed with a creative genius which inspired him with embellishments sonew and so astonishing that no one was able to imitate them. The artof taking and keeping the breath so softly and easily that no one couldperceive it, began and died with him. The qualities in which he excelledwere the evenness of his voice, the art of swelling its sound, theportamento, the union of the registers, a surprising agility, a gracefuland pathetic style, and a shake as admirable as it was rare. There wasno branch of the art which he did not carry to the highest pitch ofperfection. . . . The successes of his youth did not prevent him fromcontinuing to study, and this great artist applied himself with so muchperseverance that he contrived to change in some measure his style, andto acquire another and superior method, when his name was already famousand his fortune brilliant. "

V. 

Let us return from the consideration of Faustina's most brilliantcontemporary to Hasse and his wife. We have already seen that this greatprima donna retired from the stage in 1753, at the age of fifty-two. Thelife of the distinguished couple during this period is described withmuch pictorial vividness in a musical novel, published several yearssince, under the name of "Alcestis, " which also gives an excellent ideaof German art and music generally. In 1760 Hasse suffered greatly fromthe bombardment of Dresden by the Prussians, losing among other propertyall his manuscripts in the destruction of the opera-house--a factwhich may partly account for the oblivion into which this once admiredcomposer has passed. The loss was peculiarly unfortunate, for thepublication of Hasse's works was then about to commence at the expenseof the King. He and his wife removed to Vienna, where they remainedtill 1775, when they retired to Venice, Faustina's birthplace. Twoyears before this Dr. Burney visited them at their handsome house in theLandstrasse in Berlin, and found them a humdrum couple--Hasse groaningwith the gout, and the once lovely Faustina transformed into a jolly oldwoman of seventy-two, with two charming daughters. As he approached thehouse with the Abate Taruffi, Faustina, seeing them, came down to meetthem. Says the Doctor: "I was presented to her by my conductor, andfound her a short, brown, sensible, lively old lady, who expressedherself much pleased to meet a _cavalière Inglesi_, as she had beenhonored with great marks of favor in England. Signor Hasse soon enteredthe room. He is tall and rather large in size, but it is easy to imaginethat in his younger days he must have been a robust and fine figure;great gentleness and goodness appear in his countenance and manners. "

Going to see them a second time, the Doctor was received by the wholefamily with much cordiality. He says Faustina was very intelligent, animated, and curious concerning what was going on in the world. She hada wonderful store of musical reminiscences, and showed remains of thesplendid beauty for which her youth was celebrated. But her voice wasall gone. Dr. Burney asked her to sing. "Ah! Non posso; ho perdutotutte le mie facoltà. " ("Alas! I am no longer able; I have lost allmy faculty. ") "I was extremely fascinated, " said the Doctor, "with theconversation of Signor Hasse. He was easy, communicative, and rational, equally free from pedantry, pride, and prejudice. He spoke ill ofno one, but on the contrary did justice to the talents of severalcomposers, among them Porpora, who, though he was his first master, wasafterward his greatest rival. " Though his fingers were gouty, he playedon the piano for his visitor, and his beautiful daughters sang. One wasa "sweet soprano, " the other a "rich and powerful contralto, fit forany church or theatre in Europe "; both girls "having good shakes, " and"such an expression, taste, and steadiness as it is natural to expect inthe daughters and scholars of Signor Hasse and Signora Faustina. "

There are two pictures of Faustina Bordoni in existence. One is inHawkins's "History, " showing her in youth. Brilliant large blackeyes, splendid hair, regular features, and a fascinating sweetness ofexpression, attest how lovely she must have been in the heyday ofher charms. The other represents her as an elderly person, handsomelydressed, with an animated, intelligent countenance. Faustina died in1793, at the age of ninety-two, and Hasse not long after, at the age ofninety-four. 

CATARINA GABRIELLI. 

The Cardinal and the Daughter of the Cook. --The Young Prima Donna's_Début_ in Lucca. --Dr. Barney's Description of Gabrielli. --Her Caprices, Extravagances, and Meeting with Metastasio. --Her Adventures in Vienna. --Brydone on Gabrielli. --Episodes of her Career in Sicily and Parma. --Shesings at the Court of Catharine of Russia. --Sketches of Caffarelli andPaochicrotti. --Gabrielli in London, and her Final Retirement from Art. 

I. 

One of the great dignitaries of the Papal Court during the middle of theeighteenth century was the celebrated Cardinal Gabrielli. He was one daywalking in his garden, when a flood of delicious, untutored notes burston his ear, resolving itself finally into a brilliant _arietta_ byGa-luppi. The pretty little nymph who had poured out these wild-woodnotes proved to be the daughter of his favorite cook. Catarina's beautyof person and voice had already excited the hopes of her father, and hefrequently took her to the Argentina Theatre, where her quick ear caughtall the tunes she heard; but the humble cook could not put the childin the way of further instruction and training. When Cardinal Gabrielliheard that enchanting but uncultivated voice, he called the littleCatarina and made her sing her whole stock of arias, a mandate shewillingly obeyed. He was delighted with her talent, and took on himselfthe care of her musical education. She was first placed under the chargeof Garcia (Lo Spagnoletto), and afterward of Porpora. The Cardinal kepta keen oversight of her instruction, and frequently organized concerts, where her growing talents were shown, to the great delight of thebrilliant Roman society. Catarina's training was completed in theconservatory of L'Ospidaletto at Venice, while it was under thedirection of Sacchini, who succeeded Galuppi. 

"La Cuochettina, " as she was called from her father's profession, madeher first appearance in Galuppi's "Sofonisba" in Lucca, after fiveyears of severe training. She was beautiful, intelligent, witty, fullof liveliness and grace, with an expression full of coquettish charm and_espieglerie_. Her acting was excellent, and her singing already that ofa brilliant and finished vocalist. It is not a marvel that the excitableItalian audience received her with the most passionate plaudits ofadmiration. Her stature was low, but Dr. Burney describes her in thefollowing terms: "There was such grace and dignity in her gestures anddeportment as caught every unprejudiced eye; indeed, she filled thestage, and occupied the attention of the spectators so much, that theycould look at nothing else while she was in view. " No indication ofher mean origin betrayed itself in her face or figure, for she carriedherself with all the haughty grandeur of a Roman matron. Her voice, though not powerful, was of exquisite quality and wonderful extent, its compass being nearly two octaves and a half, and perfectly equablethroughout. Her facility in vocalization was extraordinary, and herexecution is described by Dr. Burney as rapid, but never so excessive asto cease to be agreeable; but in slow movements her pathetic tones, asis often the case with performers renowned for "dexterity, " were notsufficiently touching. 

The young chevaliers of Lucca were wild over the new operatic star; forher talent, beauty, and fascination made her a paragon of attraction, and her capricious whims and coquetries riveted the chains in which sheheld her admirers. Catarina, however she may have felt pleased at lordlytributes of devotion, and willing to accept substantial proofs oftheir sincerity, lavished her friendship for the most part on her owncomrades, and became specially devoted to the singer Guardagni, whoserare artistic excellence made him a valuable mentor to the young primadonna. Three years after her _début_ her reputation had become national, and we find her singing at Naples in the San Carlo. The aged poetMetastasio, a name so imperishably connected with the development of theItalian opera, became one of her bond slaves. Gabrielli was wont to useher admirers for artistic advantage, and she learned certain invaluablelessons in the delivery of recitative and the higher graces of her artfrom one whose experience and knowledge were infinitely higher and moresuggestive than those of a mere singing-master. The courtly poet, thepet of rank and beauty for nearly fifty years, sighed in vain at thefeet of this inexorable coquette, and shared his disappointment with ahost of other distinguished suitors, who showered costly gifts at theshrine of beauty, and were compelled to content themselves with kissingher hand as a reward. 

Metastasio's interest, unchecked by the disdain of the capriciousbeauty, succeeded in obtaining for her the position of court singer atVienna, where the Emperor, Francis I. , was one of her admirers. She sooncreated as great a furor among the gallants of the Austrian capital asshe had in Italy. Swords were drawn freely in the quarrels which shedelighted to foster, and dueling became a mania with those who aspiredto her favor. The passions she instigated sometimes took eccentriccourses. The French Ambassador, who loved her madly, suspected thePortuguese Minister of being more successful than himself with thelovely Gabrielli. His suspicions being confirmed at one of his visits, he drew his sword in a transport of rage, and all that saved theoperatic stage one of its most brilliant lights was the whalebonebodice, which broke the point of the furious Frenchman's rapier. Thesight of the bleeding beauty--for she received a slight scratch--broughtthe diplomat to his senses. Falling on his knees, he poured forth hisremorse in passionate self-reproaches, but only received his pardon onthe most humiliating terms, namely, that he should present her withthe weapon which had so nearly pierced her heart, on which was to beinscribed this memento of the jealous madness of its owner: "_Epée deM------, qui osa frapper La Gabrielli_. " Only Metastasio's persuasions(for Gabrielli prized his friendship and advice as much as she trifledwith him in a different _rôle_) persuaded her to spare the Frenchman theinsufferable ridicule which her retention of the telltale sword wouldhave imposed on one whose rank and station could ill afford to be madethe laughing-stock of his times. 

The siren's infinite caprices furnished the most interesting _chroniquescandaleuse_ of Vienna. Brydone in his "Tour" tells us that it wasfortunate for humanity that the fair cantatrice had so many faults; for, had she been more perfect, "she must have made dreadful havoc in theworld; though, with all her deficiencies, " he says, "she was supposed tohave achieved more conquests than any one woman breathing. " Her capricewas so stubborn, that neither interest, nor threats, nor punishment hadthe least power over it; she herself declared that she could not commandit, but that it for the most part commanded her. The best expedient toinduce her to sing when she was in a bad humor was to prevail upon herfavorite lover to place himself in the principal seat of the pit, or thefront of a box, and, if they were on good terms--which was seldom thecase, however--she should address her tender airs to him, and exertherself to the utmost. When Brydone was in Sicily, her lover promisedto give him an example of his power over her. "He took his seataccordingly; but Gabrielli, probably suspecting the connivance, wouldtake no notice of him; so even this expedient does not always succeed. "

II. 

When Gabrielli left Vienna for Sicily in 1765, she was laden withriches, for her manifold extravagances were generally incurred atthe expense of somebody else; and she continued at Palermo the sameeccentric, capricious, and flighty conduct which had made her namesynonymous with everything reckless and daring in contraveningpropriety. She treated the highest dignitaries with the same insolencewhich she displayed toward operatic managers. Even the Viceroy ofSicily, standing in the very place of royalty, was made the victim ofwanton impertinence. The Viceroy gave a dinner in honor of La Gabrielli, to which were invited the proudest nobles of the court; and, as she didnot appear at the appointed hour, a servant was sent to her apartments. She was found _en déshabillé_ dawdling over a book, and affected tohave forgotten the viceregal invitation--a studied insult, hardly to beendured. This insolence, however, was overlooked by the representativeof royal authority, and it was not till the proud beauty's capricescaused her to seriously neglect her artistic duties that she felt theweight of his displeasure. When he sent a remonstrance against hersinging _sotto voce_ on the stage, she said she might be forced to_cry_, but not to _sing_. The exasperated ruler ordered her to prisonfor twelve days. Her caprice was here shown by giving the costliestentertainments to her fellow prisoners, who were of all classes fromdebtors to bandits, paying their debts, distributing great sums amongthe indigent, and singing her most beautiful songs in an enchantingmanner. When she was released she was followed by the grateful tearsand blessings of those she had so lavishly benefited in jail. Thisfascinating creature seems all through life to have been good on impulseand bad on principle. Three years after this Gabrielli was singing inParma, where she made a speedy conquest of the Infante, Don Ferdinand. His boundless wealth condoned the ugliness of his person in the eyes ofthe singer, and the lavish income he placed at her disposal gratifiedher boundless extravagances, while it did not prevent her from beinggracious to the Infante's many rivals and would-be successors. Bitter quarrels and recriminations ensued, and the jealous ravingsof Catarina's princely admirer were more than matched by the fiercesarcasms and shrill clamor of the beautiful virago. One day DonFerdinand, justly suspecting her of gross unfaithfulness, assailedher with unusual fury, to which she replied by terming him a _gobbomaladetto_ (accursed hunchback). On this the Prince, carried beyondall control, had her imprisoned on some legal pretext, though Gabriellifound proofs of love struggling with his anger in the magnificence ofthe apartment and luxuriance of the service bestowed on her. But hestrove in vain to make his peace. The offended coquette was implacable, and disdained alike his excuses and protestations of devotion. One nightshe escaped from her prison, scaled the garden-wall, and fled, leavingher weak and disconsolate lover to cool his sighs in tears of unavailingregret. 

The court of the Semiramis of the North, Catharine II. Of Russia, whostrove to expunge the contempt felt for her as a woman by Europe throughthe imperial munificence with which she played at patronizing art andliterature, was the next scene of the fair Italian's triumph. Gabrielliwas received with lavish favor, but the Empress frowned when she heardthe pecuniary demands of the singer. "Five thousand ducats!" shesaid, in amazement. "Why, I don't give more than that to one of myfield-marshals. " "Very well, " replied the audacious Gabrielli; "yourMajesty may get your field-marshals to sing for you, then. " Catharine, who, however cruel and unscrupulous when need be, was in the maingood-natured, laughed at the impertinence, and instead of sendingGabrielli to Siberia consented to her demands, adding special gratuitiesto the nominal salary. Two countrymen of the beautiful cantatrice, Pai-siello and Cimarosa, were afterward treated with equal honor andconsideration by the imperial _dilettante_. Catharine's favor lastedunimpaired for several years, and it only abated when Gabrielli's lustfor conquest and the honor of rivalry with a sovereign tempted her tocoquet with Prince Po-temkin. An intimation from the court chamberlainthat St. Petersburg was too hot for one of her warm southern blood, and that Siberia or some other place at her will would better suither temperament, sufficed when backed by an imperial endorsement. LaGabrielli returned from Russia, loaded with, diamonds and wealth, for Catharine did not dismiss her without substantial proofs of hermagnificence and generosity. 

At this period Gabrielli was invited to England; and after considerablehaggling with the London manager, and compelling him to employ herfavorite of the hour, Signor Manzoletto, as principal tenor, thenegotiation was consummated. Gabrielli still preserved all herexcellence of voice and charm of execution; but her rare beauty, whichhad been as great a factor in her success as artistic skill, was on thewane. The English engagement had been made with some reluctance; forthe stern and uncompromising temper of the island nation had been widelyrecognized with exaggerations in Continental Europe. "I should not bemistress of my own will, " she said, "and whenever I might have a fancynot to sing, the people would insult, perhaps misuse me. It is betterto remain unmolested, were it even in prison. " She, however, changed hermind, and her experiences in London were such as to make her regret thatshe had not stood firm to her first resolution. 

III. 

Among the remarkable male singers of Gabrielli's time was Caffarelli, whom his friends indeed declared to be no less great than Farinelli. Though never closely associated with La Cuochet-tina in her stagetriumphs (a fact perhaps fortunate for the cantatrice), he must beregarded as one of the representative artists of the period when she wasin the full-blown and insolent prime of her beauty and reputation. Bornin 1703, of humble Neapolitan parentage, he became a pupil of Porpora atan early age. The great singing-master is said to have taught him in apeculiar fashion. For five years he permitted him to sing nothingbut scales and exercises. In the sixth year Porpora instructed him indeclamation, pronunciation, and articulation. Caffarelli, at the end ofthe sixth year, supposing he had just mastered the rudiments, began tomurmur, when he was amazed by Porpora's answer: "Young man, you may nowleave me; you are the greatest singer in the world, and you have nothingmore to learn from me. " Hogarth discredits this story, on the groundthat "none but a plodding drudge without a spark of genius could havesubmitted to a process which would have been too much for the patientendurance even of a Russian serf; or if a single spark had existed atfirst, it must have been extinguished by so barbarous a treatment. "Caffarelli did not rise to the height of his fame rapidly, and, whenhe went to London to supply the place of Farinelli in 1738, he entirelyfailed to please the English public, who had gone wild with enthusiasmover his predecessor. Farinelli's retirement from the artistic worldabout this period removed from Caffarelli's way the only rival who couldhave snatched from him the laurels he soon acquired as the leadingmale singer of the age. After Caffarelli's return from England, hisengagements in Turin, Genoa, Milan, and Florence were a triumphalprogress. At Turin he sang before the Prince and Princess of Sardinia, the latter of whom had been a pupil of Farinelli, as she was a Spanishprincess. Caffarelli, on being told that the royal lady had a prejudicein favor of her old master, said haughtily, "To-night she shall heartwo Farinellis in one, " and exerted his faculties so successfully asto produce acclamations of delight and astonishment. He always seemsto have had great jealousy of the fame of Farinelli, and the latterentertained much curiosity about his successor in public esteem. Metas-tasio, the friend of the retired artist, wrote to him in 1749 fromVienna about Caffarelli's reception: "You will be curious to knowhow Caffarelli has been received. The wonders related of him by hisadherents had excited expectations of something above humanity. " Aftersumming up the judgments of the critics who were severe on Caffarelli'sfaults, that his voice was "false, screaming, and disobedient, " thathis singing was full of "antique and stale flourishes, " that "in hisrecitative he was an old nun, " and that in all that he sang there was"a whimsical tone of lamentation sufficient to sour the gayest allegro, "Metastasio says that in his happy moments he could please excessively, but the caprices of his voice and temper made these happy moments veryuncertain. 

Caffarelli's arrogant, vain, and turbulent nature seems to have been theprincipal cause of his troubles. The numerous anecdotes current of himturned mainly on this characteristic, so different from the modesty andreticence of Fari-nelli. Metastasio, in a lively letter to the Princessdi Belmonte, describes an amusing fracas at the Viennese Opera-House. The poet of the house, Migliavacca, who was also director of rehearsals, became engaged in altercation with the singer, because the latterneglected attendance. He rehearsed to Caffarelli in bitter languagethe various terms of reproach and contempt which his enemies throughoutEurope had lavished on him. "But the hero of the panegyric, cutting thethread of his own praise, called out to his eulogist, 'Follow me ifthou hast courage to a place where there is none to assist thee, ' and, moving toward the door, beckoned him to come out. The poet hesitateda moment, then said with a smile: 'Truly, such an antagonist makes meblush; but come along, since it is a Christian act to chastise a madmanor a fool, ' and advanced to take the field. " Suddenly the belligerentsdrew blades on the very stage itself, and, while the bystanders wereexpecting to see poetical or vocal blood besprinkle the harpsichordsand double basses, the Signora Tesi advanced toward the duelists. "Oh, sovereign power of beauty!" writes Metastasio with sly sarcasm; "thefrantic Caffarelli, even in the fiercest paroxysms of his wrath, captivated and appeased by this unexpected tenderness, runs with raptureto meet her, lays his sword at her feet, begs pardon for his errors, and, generously sacrificing to her his vengeance, seals, with a thousandkisses on her hand, his protestations of obedience, respect, andhumility. The nymph signifies her forgiveness with a nod, the poetsheathes his sword, the spectators begin to breathe again, and thetumultuous assembly breaks up amid sounds of laughter. In collecting thenumbers of the wounded and slain, none was found but the poor copyist, who, in trying to part the combatants, had received a small contusionin the clavicula of the foot from an involuntary kick of the poet'sPegasus. "

Once, while Caffarelli was singing at Naples, he was told of the arrivalof Gizzielo, a possible rival, at Rome. Unable to check his anxiety, hethrew himself into a post-chaise and hastened to Rome, arriving intime to hear his young rival sing the _aria d'entrata_. Delighted withGizzielo's singing, and giving vent to his emotion, he cried in a loudvoice: "_Bravo, bravissimo, Gizzielo! E Caffarelli che te lo dice_. " Sosaying, he rushed out and posted back to Naples, arriving barely in timeto dress for the opera. By invitation of the Dauphin, he went to Parisin 1750, and sang at several concerts, where he pleased and astonishedthe court by his splendid vocalism. Louis XV. Sent him a snuff-box;but Caffarelli, observing its plainness, said disdainfully, showing adrawerful of splendid boxes, that the worst was finer than the FrenchKing's present. "If he had only sent me his portrait in it, " said thevain' artist. "That is only given to ambassadors and princes, " wasthe reply of the King's gentleman. "Well, " was the reply, "all theambassadors and princes in the world would not make one Caffarelli. " TheKing laughed heartily at this, but the Dauphin sent for the singerand presented him with a passport, saying, "It is signed by the Kinghimself--for you a great honor; but lose no time in using it, for it isonly good for ten days. " Caffarelli left in high dudgeon, saying he hadnot made his expenses in France. 

Mr. Garrick, the great actor, heard Caffarelli in Naples in 1764, whenhe was turned of sixty, and thus writes to Dr. Burney: "Yesterday weattended the ceremony of making a nun; she was the daughter of a duke, and everything was conducted with great splendor and magnificence. Theconsecration was performed with great solemnity, and I was very muchaffected; and, to crown the whole, the principal part was sung by thefamous Caffarelli, who, though old, has pleased me more than all thesingers I ever heard. He _touched_ me, and it is the first time Ihave been touched since I came to Italy. " At this time Caffarelli hadaccumulated a great fortune, purchased a dukedom, and built a splendidpalace at San Dorato, from which he derived his ducal title. 

Over the gate he inscribed, with characteristic modesty, thisinscription: "_Amphion Thebas, ego domum. _" * A wit of the period added, "_Ille cum, sine tu_. " ** Caffarelli died in 1783, leaving his titleand wealth to his nephew, some of whose descendants are still living inenjoyment of the rank earned by the genius of the singer. By some ofthe critics of his time Caffarelli was judged to be the superior ofFarinelli, though the suffrages were generally on the other side. Heexcelled in slow and pathetic airs as well as in the bravura style; andwas unrivaled in the beauty of his voice, and in the perfection of hisshake and his chromatic scales, which latter embellishment in quickmovements he was the first to introduce. 

 * "Amphion built Thebes, I a palace. "

 ** "He with good reason, you without. "

IV. 

When Gabrielli was on her way to England in 1765, she sang for a fewnights in Venice with the celebrated Pacchierotti, a male soprano singerwho took the place of Caffarelli, even as the latter filled that vacatedby Farinelli. Gabrielli was inspired by the association to do herutmost, and when she sang her first _aria di bravura_, Pacchierotti gavehimself up for lost. The astonishing swiftness, grace, and flexibilityof her execution seemed to him beyond comparison; and, tearing his hairin his impetuous Italian way, he cried in despair, "_Povero me, poverome! Vuesto e un portento!_" ("Unfortunate man that I am, here indeed isa prodigy!") It was some time before he could be persuaded to sing; but, when he did, he excited as much admiration in Gabrielli's breast as thatfair cantatrice had done in his own. Pac-chierotti is the third in thegreat triad of the male soprano singers of the eighteenth century, andthe luster of his reputation does not shine dimly as compared with theother two. He commenced his musical career at Palermo in 1770, at theage of twenty, and when he went to England in 1778 expectations wereraised to the highest pitch by the accounts given of him by Brydone inhis "Tour through Sicily and Malta. " His first English season was verysuccessful, and he returned again in 1780, to remain for four years andbecome one of the greatest favorites the London public had ever known, his last appearance being at the great Handel commemoration. The detailsof Pacchierotti's life are rather scanty, for he was singularly modestand retiring, and shrank from rather than courted public notice. We knowmore of him from his various critics as an artist than as a man. 

"Pacchierotti's voice, " says Lord Mount Edgcumbe, who contributed sorichly to the literature of music, "was an extensive soprano, full andsweet in the highest degree; his powers of execution were great, but hehad far too good taste and good sense to make a display of them whereit would have been misapplied, confining it to one bravura song in eachopera, conscious that the chief delight of singing and his own supremeexcellence lay in touching expression and exquisite pathos. Yet he wasso thorough a musician that nothing came amiss to him; every style wasto him equally easy, and he could sing at first sight all songs of themost opposite characters, not merely with the facility and correctnesswhich a complete knowledge of music must give, but entering at once intothe views of the composer and giving them all the spirit and expressionhe had designed. Such was his genius in his embellishments and cadencesthat their variety was inexhaustible. . . . As an actor, with manydisadvantages of person--for he was tall and awkward in his figure, andhis features were plain--he was nevertheless forcible and impressive;for he felt warmly, had excellent judgment, and was an enthusiast in hisprofession. His recitative was inimitably fine, so that even those whodid not understand the language could not fail to comprehend from hiscountenance, voice, and action every sentiment he expressed. "

An anecdote illustrating Pacchierotti's pathos is given by thebest-informed musical authorities. When Metastasio's "Artaserse" wasgiven at Rome with the music of Bertoni, Pacchierotti performed thepart of Arbaces. In one place a touching song is followed by a shortinstrumental symphony. When Pacchierotti had finished the air, he turnedto the orchestra, which remained silent, saying, "What are you about?"The leader, awakened from a trance, answered with much simplicity in asobbing voice, "We are all crying. " Not one of the band had thoughtof the symphony, but sat with eyes full of tears, gazing at the greatsinger. 

V. 

Gabrielli's career, which will now be resumed, had been full of romanticadventures, _affairés d'amour_, and curious episodes, and her vanitylooked forward to the continuance in England of similar socialexcitements. She had accepted the London engagement with some scrupleand hesitation, but her anticipation of brilliant conquests amongthe _jeunesse dorée_ of Britain overcame her fear that she would findaudiences less tolerant than those to which she had been accustomed inher imperious course through Europe. But the beautiful Gabrielli wasthen a little on the wane both in personal loveliness and charm ofvoice; and, though her fame as a coquette and an artist had precededher, she met with an indifference that was almost languor. The youngEnglishmen of the period, though quick to draw blade as any gallants inEurope, did not feel inspired to fight for her smiles, as had been thecase with their compeers in the Continental cities, which rang with thescandals, controversies, and duels engendered by her numerous conquests. This sort of social stimulus had become necessary from long use asan ally of professional effort; and, lacking it, Gabrielli becameinsufferably indolent and careless. She would not take the least troubleto please fastidious London audiences, then as now the most exacting inEurope. She chose to remain sick on occasions which should have drawnforth her finest efforts, and frequently sent her sister Francesca tofill her great parts. One night her manager, mistrusting her excuses ofillness, proceeded to her apartments, and found them ablaze with lightand filled with a large company of gay and riotous revelers. Of coursethis condition of affairs could not long be endured. Stung by the slightappreciation of her talents in England, and not choosing to endure thewant of patience which made the public grumble when she chose to singbadly or not at all, she quitted England after a very brief stay. LordMount Edgcumbe saw her in the opera of "Didone, " and avows bluntly thathe could see nothing more of her acting than that she took the greatestpossible care of her enormous hoop when she sidled out of the flames ofCarthage. Dr. Burney, on the other hand, is a more chivalrous critic, orelse he was unduly impressed with the lady's charms; for she appeared tohim "the most intelligent and best-bred _virtuoso_ with whom he hadever conversed, not only on the subject of music, but on every subjectconcerning which a well-educated female, who had seen the world, mightbe expected to have information. " Furthermore, he extols the precisionand accuracy of her execution and intonation, and the thrilling qualityof her voice. 

Brydone, who appears to have been fascinated with this siren, has anamusing apology for her carelessness of her duties in England, which heinsists was not caprice, but inability to sing. He says: "And this I canreadily believe, for that wonderful flexibility of voice, that runswith such rapidity and neatness through the most minute divisions, andproduces almost instantaneously so great a variety of modulation, mustsurely depend on the very nicest tones of the fibers; and if these arein the smallest degree relaxed, or their elasticity diminished, how isit possible that their contractions and expansions can so readily obeythe will as to produce these effects? The opening of the glottis whichforms the voice is so extremely small, and in every variety of tone itsdiameter must suffer a sensible change; for the same diameter must everproduce the same tone. So _wonderfully_ minute are its contractions anddilatations, that Dr. Kiel, I think, computed that in some voices itsopening, not more than the tenth of an inch, is divided into upwardof twelve hundred parts, the different sound of every one of which isperceptible to the exact ear. Now, what a nice tension of fibers mustthis require! I should imagine even the most minute change in the aircauses a sensible difference, and that in our foggy climate fibers wouldbe in danger of losing this wonderful sensibility, or, at least, thatthey would very often be put out of tune. It is not the same case withan ordinary voice, where the variety of divisions run through and thevolubility with which they are executed bear no proportion to that of aGabrielli. "

Gabrielli sang in various cities of Italy for several years more, stillretaining her hold on the hearts of her countrymen. In 1780 she finallyretired from the stage and began to live a regular and orderly life, though still extravagant and lavish in her indulgence both of freaks ofluxury and generosity. During her residence at Rome the noblesse ofthat city held her in high esteem, and her concerts gathered the mostdistinguished and wealthy people. Her prodigality had considerablyreduced her income, and when she retired from her profession it amountedto little more than twenty thousand francs. The state in which Gabriellihad lived suited a princess of the blood rather than an operatic singer. Her traveling retinue included a little army of servants and couriers, and, both at home and at the theatre, she exacted the respect which wasrather the due of some royal personage. A Florentine nobleman paid hera visit one day, and tore one of his ruffles by catching in some part ofher dress. Gabrielli the next day, to make amends, sent him six bottlesof Spanish wine, with the costliest rolls of Flanders lace stuffed intothe mouths of the bottles instead of corks. But, if she was extravagantand luxurious, she was also generous; and, in spite of the cruelcaprices which had marked her life, she always gave tokens of anaturally kind heart. She gave largely to charity, and providedliberally for her parents, as also for her brother's education. Of thisbrother, who appeared at the Teatro Argentina in Rome as a tenor, but who sang as wretchedly as his sister did exquisitely, an amusinganecdote is narrated. The audience began to hoot and hiss, and yells of"Get out, you raven!" sounded through the house. With great _sang-froid_the unlucky singer said: "You fancy you are mortifying me by hooting me;you are grossly deceived; on the contrary, I applaud your judgment, forI solemnly declare that I never appear on any stage without receivingthe same treatment, and sometimes worse. "

Gabrielli's closing years were spent at Bologna, where she won theesteem and admiration of all by her charities and steadiness of life, anotable contrast to the license and extravagance of her earlier career. She died in 1796, at the age of sixty-six. 

SOPHIE ARNOULD. 

The French Stage as seen by Rousseau. --Intellectual Ferment of thePeriod. --Sophie Arnould, the Queen of the most Brilliant of ParisSalons. --Her Early Life and Connection with Comte de Lauraguais. --HerReputation as the Wittiest Woman of the Age. --Art Association with theGreat German Composer, Gluck. --The Rivalries and Dissensions of thePeriod. --Sophie's Rivals and Contemporaries, Madame St. Huberty, the Vestrises Father and Son, Madelaine Guimard. --Opera during theRevolution. --The Closing Days of Sophie Arnould's Life. --Lord MountEdgcumbe's Opinion of her as an Artist. 

I. 

Rousseau, a man of decidedly musical organization, and who wrote sobrilliantly on the subject of the art he loved (but who cared more formusic than he did for truth and honor, as he showed by stealing themusic of two operas, "Pygmalion" and "Le Devin du Village, " and passingit off for his own), has given us some very racy descriptions of Frenchopera in the latter part of the eighteenth century in his "DictionnaireMusicale, " in his "Lettre sur la Musique Française, " and, above all, in the "Nouvelle Héloïse. " In the mouth of Saint Preux, the hero of thelatter novel, he puts some very animated sketches:

"The opera at Paris passes for the most pompous, the most voluptuous, the most admirable spectacle that human art has ever invented. It is, say its admirers, the most superb monument of the magnificence of LouisXIV. Here you may dispute about anything except music and the opera; onthese topics alone it is dangerous not to dissemble. French music, too, is defended by a very vigorous inquisition, and the first thingindicated is a warning to strangers who visit this country that allforeigners admit there is nothing so fine as the grand opera at Paris. The fact is, discreet people hold their tongues and laugh in theirsleeves. It must, however, be conceded that not only all the marvels ofnature, but many other marvels much greater, which no one has ever seen, are represented at great cost at this theatre; and certainly Pope musthave alluded to it when he describes a stage on which were seen gods, hobgoblins, monsters, kings, shepherds, fairies, fury, joy, fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball. *. . . 

 * Addison gives some such description of the French opera in No. 29 of the "Spectator. "

Having told you what others say of this brilliant spectacle, I willnow tell you what I have seen myself. Imagine an inclosure fifteen feetbroad and long in proportion; this inclosure is the theatre. On its twosides are placed at intervals screens, on which are grossly paintedthe objects which the scene is about to represent. At the back of theinclosure hangs a great curtain painted in like manner, and nearlyalways pierced and torn, that it may represent at a little distancegulfs on the earth or holes in the sky. Every one who passes behind thisstage or touches the curtain produces a sort of earthquake, which has adouble effect. The sky is made from certain bluish rags suspendedfrom poles or from cords, as linen may be seen hung out to dry in anywasherwoman's yard. The sun (for it is seen here sometimes) is a lightedtorch in a lantern. The cars of the gods and goddesses are composed offour rafters, squared and hung on a thick rope in the form of a swing orseesaw; between the rafters is a cross-plank on which the god sits down, and in front hangs a piece of coarse cloth well dirtied, which acts thepart of clouds for the magnificent car. One may see toward the bottom ofthe machine two or three stinking candles, badly snuffed, which, whilethe great personage dementedly presents himself, swinging in his seesaw, fumigate him with an incense worthy of his dignity. The agitated seais composed of long lanterns of cloth and blue pasteboard, strung onparallel spits which are turned by little blackguard boys. The thunderis a heavy cart, rolled over an arch, and is not the least agreeableinstrument one hears. The flashes of lightning are made of pinches ofrosin thrown on a flame, and the thunder is a cracker at the end ofa fusee. The theatre is furnished, moreover, with little squaretrap-doors, through which the demons issue from their cave. When theyhave to rise into the air, little devils of stuffed brown cloth aresubstituted, or perhaps live chimney-sweeps, who swing suspended andsmothered in rags. The accidents which happen are sometimes tragical, sometimes farcical. When the ropes break, then infernal spirits andimmortal deities fall together, laming and sometimes killing each other. Add to all this the monsters which render some scenes very pathetic, such as dragons, lizards, tortoises, and large toads, which promenadethe theatre with a menacing air, and display at the opera all thetemptations of St. Anthony. Each of these figures is animated by a loutof a Savoyard, who has not even intelligence enough to play the beast. "Saint Preux is also made to say of the singers: "One sees actressesnearly in convulsions, tearing yelps and howls violently out of theirlungs, closed hands pressed on their breasts, heads thrown back, facesinflamed, veins swollen, and stomach panting. I know not which of thetwo, eye or ear, is more agreeably affected by this display. . . . For mypart, I am certain that people applaud the outcries of an actress at theopera as they would the feats of a tumbler or rope-dancer at a fair. . . . Imagine this style of singing employed to express the delicate gallantryand tenderness of Quinault. Imagine the Muses, the Graces, the Loves, Venus herself, expressing themselves this way, and judge the effect. Asfor devils, it might pass, for this music has something infernal in it, and is not ill adapted to such beings. "

From this and similar accounts it will be seen that opera in Franceduring the latter part of the eighteenth century had, notwithstandingJean Jacques's garrulous sarcasms, advanced a considerable way towardthat artificial perfection which characterizes it now. Music was a topicof discussion, which absorbed the interest of the polite world far morethan the mutterings in the politi-cal horizon, which portended so fiercea convulsion of the social _régime_. Wits, philosophers, courtiers, andfine ladies joined in the acrimonious controversy, first between theadherents of Lulli and Rameau, then between those of Gluck and Piccini. The young gallants of the day were wont to occupy part of the stageitself and criticise the performance of the opera; and often theyadjourned from the theatre to the dueling-ground to settle a difficultytoo hard for their wits to unravel. The intense interest appertaining toall things connected with music and the theatre noticeable in the Frenchof to-day, was tenfold as eager a century ago. Passionate curiosity, even extending to enthusiasm, with which that worn-out and utterlycorrupt society, by some subtile contradiction, threw itself into allquestions concerning philosophy, science, literature, and art, foundits most characteristic expression in its relation to the music of thestage. 

It was at this strange and picturesque period, when everything inpolitics, society, literature, and art was fermenting for the terribleHecate's brew which the French world was soon to drink to the dregs, that there appeared on the stage one of the most remarkable figuresin its history, a woman of great beauty and brilliancy, as well as anartist of unique genius--Sophie Arnould. Her name is lustrous in Frenchmemoirs for the splendor of her wit and conversational talent; andArsène Houssaye has thought it worthy to preserve her _bon-mots_ ina volume of table-talk, called "Arnouldiana, " which will compare withanything of its kind in the French language. For a dozen years prior tothe Revolution Sophie Arnould was a queen of society as well as ofart; and in her elegant _salon_, which was a museum of art _curios_and bric-à-brac, she held a brilliant court, where men of the highestdistinction, both native and foreign, were proud to pay their homageat the shrine of beauty and genius. There might be seen D'Alembert, thelearned and scholarly, rough and independent in manner, who deserted thedrawing-rooms of the great for saloons where he could move at his ease. There, also, Diderot would often delight his circle of admirers by thefluency and richness of his conversation, his friends extolling hisdisinterestedness and honesty, his enemies whispering about his cunningand selfishness. The novelist Duclos, with his keen power of penetratinghuman character, would move leisurely through the throng, pickingup material for his romances; and Mably would talk politics and dropill-natured remarks. The learned metaphysician Helvetius, too, wasoften there, seeking for compliments, his appetite for applause beingvoracious; so insatiable, indeed, that he even danced one night at theopera. It was said that he was led to study mathematics by seeing acircle of beautiful ladies surrounding the ugly geometrician Maupertuisin the gardens of the Tuileries. Dorât, who wasted his time inwriting bad tragedies, and his property in publishing them; the gay, good-hearted Marmontel; Bernard--called by Voltaire _le gentil_--whowrote the libretto of "Castor et Pollux, " esteemed for years amasterpiece of lyric poetry; Rameau, the popular composer, in whosepieces Sophie always appeared; and Francoeur, the leader of theorchestra, were also among her guests. J. J. Rousseau was the greatlion, courted and petted by all. When Benjamin Franklin arrived inParis, where he was received with unbounded hospitality by the mostdistinguished of French society, he confessed that nowhere did he findsuch pleasure, such wit, such brilliancy, as in the _salon_ of Mile. Arnould. M. André de Murville was one of the more noteworthy men of witwho attended her _soirées_, and he became so madly in love with her thathe offered her his hand; but she cared very little about him. One dayhe told her that if he were not in the Académie within thirty years, hewould blow out his brains. She looked steadily at him, and then, smilingsarcastically, said, "I thought you had done that long ago. " Poetssang her praises; painters eagerly desired to transfer her exquisitelineaments to canvas. All this flattery intoxicated her. She wishedto be classed with Ninon, Lais, and Aspasia, and was proud to be thesubject of the verses of Dorat, Bernard, Rulhière, Marmontel, andFavart. Sophie's wit never hesitated to break a lance even on those sheliked. "What are you thinking of?" she said to Bernard, in one of hisabstracted moods. "I was talking to myself, " he replied. "Be careful, "she said archly; "you gossip with a flatterer. " To a physician, whom shemet with a gun under his arm, she laughed aloud, "Ah, doctor, you areafraid of your professional resources failing. " Her racy repartees werein every mouth from Paris to Versailles, and she was in all respects abrilliant personage among the intellectual lights of the age. 

In the Rue de Béthisy, Paris, stood a house, the Hôtel de Châtillon, from the window of one of whose rooms assassins flung the gory head ofthe great Admiral de Coligni down to the Duke de Guise on the night ofSaint Bartholomew, 1572. In that same room was born, February 14, 1744, Sophie Arnould, the daughter of the proprietor, who had transformed thehistoric dwelling into a hostelry. She grew up a bright, lively, andbeautiful child, and was conscious from an early age of the value of hertalents. Anne, as she was then called (for the change to Sophie was madeafterward), would say with exultation: "We shall be as rich as princes. A good fairy has given me a talisman to transform everything into goldand diamonds at the sound of my voice. "

Accident brought her talent to light. It was then the fashion forladies, after confessing their sins in Passion Week, to retire for somedays to a religious house, there to expiate by fasting the faults andmisdemeanors committed during the gayeties of the Carnival. It chancedthat when Anne was about twelve years old the Princess of Modena retiredto the convent of Val-de-Grace, and in attending vespers heard one voicewhich, for power and purity, she thought had never been surpassed. Fine voices were at a premium then in France, and the Princess at oncedecided that she had discovered a treasure. She inquired who was theowner of this exquisite organ, and was informed that it was little AnneArnould. The Princess sent for the child, who came readily, and was notin the least abashed by the presence of the great lady, but sang like anightingale and chattered like a magpie. The wit and beauty of the girlcharmed the Princess, and she threw a costly necklace about her throat. "Come, my lovely child, " said she; "you sing like an angel, and youhave more wit than an angel. Your fortune is made. " As a result of thepraises so loudly chanted by the Princess of Modena, the child wassent for to sing in the King's Chapel, and, in spite of the aversion ofAnne's pious mother, who was afraid with good reason of the influencesof the dissipated court, she was placed thus in contact with power androyalty. The beautiful Pompadour heard her charming voice, and remarked, with that effusion of sentiment which veneered her cruel selfishness, "Ah! with such a talent, she might become a princess. " This opinion ofthe imperious and all-powerful favorite decided the girl's fate; for itwas equivalent to a mandate for her _début_. The precocious child knewthe danger of the path opened for her. To the remonstrances of hermother she said with a shrug of her pretty shoulders: "To go to theopera is to go to the devil. But what matters it? It is my destiny. "Poor Mme. Arnould scolded, shuddered, and prayed, and ended it, as shethought, by shutting the girl up in a convent. But Louis XV. Got windof this threatened checkmate, and a royal mandate took her out of theconvent walls which had threatened to immure her for life. Anne wasplaced with Clairon, the great tragedienne, to learn acting, and withMlle. Fel to learn singing. As a consequence, while she had somerivals in the beauty of her voice, her acting surpassed anything on theoperatic stage of that era. 

II. 

When Anne Arnould made her first appearance, she assumed the name ofSophie on account of the softer sound of its syllables. Her _début_, September 15, 1757, was one of most brilliant success, and in anight Paris was at her feet. Her genius, her beauty, her voice, hermagnificent eyes, her incomparable grace and fascinating witchery ofmanner, were the talk of the city; and the opera was besieged everynight she sang. Fréron, in speaking of the waiting crowds, said, "Idoubt if they would take such trouble to get into paradise. " The youngand lovely _débutante_ accepted the homage of the time, which then asnow expressed itself in bouquets, letters, and jewels, without number, with as much nonchalance as if she had been a stage goddess of twentyyears' standing. 

Hosts of admirers fluttered around this new and brilliant light. Mme. Arnould fretted and scolded, and watched her precious charge as wellas she could; for when the opera received a singer, neither father normother could longer claim her. One of the besieging _roués_ said thatSophie walked on roses. "Yes, " was the mother's keen retort, "but see toit that you do not plant thorns amid the roses. " Sophie's fascinationswere the theme of universal talk among the gay and licentious idlers ofthe court, and heavy bets were made as to who should be the victor inhis suit. Among the most distinguished of the court rufflers of theperiod was the Comte de Lauraguais, noted for his personal beauty, wit, and daring, and for having written some very bad plays, which wereinstantly damned by the audience. He had run through a great fortune, and the good-humored gayety with which he won money from his friends wasonly equaled by the nonchalance with which he had squandered his own. He was a member of the Academy of Sciences, and enjoyed lounging infashionable saloons and behind the scenes at the opera. Lauraguaishad the temerity to attempt to carry off the young beauty, but, theenterprise failing, he had recourse to another expedient. One evening, supping with some friends, the conversation turned naturally on thestar which had just risen, and there was much jesting over the maternalanxiety of Arnould _mère_. Lauraguais, laughing, instantly offered tolay an immense wager that within fifteen days Mme. Arnould would nolonger attend Sophie to the opera. The bet was taken, and the next daya handsome but modest-looking young man, professing to be from thecountry, applied at the Hôtel de Châtillon for lodgings. The fascinatingtongue of young Duval (for he represented that he was a poet of thatname, who hoped to get a play taken by the managers) soon beguiled bothmother and daughter, and he began to make love to Sophie under thevery maternal eyes. The romantic girl listened with delight to theprotestations and vows of the young provincial poet, though she haddisdained the flatteries of the troops of court gallants who besiegedthe opera-house stage when she sang. The _finale_ of this prettypastoral was a moonlight flitting one night. The couple eloped, and theComte de Lauraguais won his wager that Mme. Arnould would not longeraccompany her daughter to the opera, and with the wager the mostbeautiful and fascinating woman of the time. 

Sophie, finding herself freed from all conventional shackles, gave fullplay to her tastes, both for luxury and intellectual society. Her house, the Hôtel Rambouillet, was transformed into a palace, and both at homeand in the green-room of the opera she was surrounded by a throng ofnoblemen, diplomats, soldiers, poets, artists--in a word, all the mostbrilliant men of Paris, who crowded her receptions and besieged herfootsteps. The attentions paid the brilliant Sophie caused terrible fitsof jealousy on the part of Lauraguais, and their life for several years, though there appears to have been sincere attachment on both sides, wasembittered by quarrels and recriminations. Sophie seems to have beenfaithful to her relation with Lauraguais, though she never took painsto deprecate his anger or avert his suspicions. Discovering that hewas intriguing with an operatic fair one, she contrived that Lauraguaisshould come on her _tête-a-tête_ with a Knight of Malta. To hisreproaches she answered, "This gentleman is only fulfilling his vows asKnight of Malta in waging war upon an infidel" (infidèle). At last shetired of leading such a fretful existence, and took the occasion of theCount's absence to break the bond. She filled her carriage with all ofhis valuable gifts to herself--jewelry, laces, and two children--andsent them to his hotel. The message was received by the Countess, whogladly accepted the charge of the little ones, but returned the carriageand its other contents. On Lauraguais's return he was thrown into thedeepest misery by Sophie's resolve; but, although she was touched by hispleading and reproaches, she remained inflexible. She accepted, however, a pension of two thousand crowns which his generosity settled on her. Weare told that the sentimental Countess joined with her husband in urgingSophie, who at first refused to receive Lauraguais's bounty, to yield, saying that her admiration of the lovely singer made her excuse hisfault in being unfaithful to herself, and that the children should bealways treated as her own. Such a scene as this would be impossible outof the France of the eighteenth century. 

The number of Sophie Arnould's _bon-mots_ is almost legion, and hergood nature could rarely resist the temptation of uttering a brilliantepigram or a pungent repartee. Some one showed her a snuff-box, on whichwere portraits of Sully and the Duke de Choiseul. She said with a wickedsmile, "Debit and credit. " A Capuchin monk was reported to have beeneaten by wolves. "Poor beasts! hunger must be a dreadful thing, "ejaculated she. A beautiful but silly woman complained to her of thepersistency of her lovers. "You have only to open your mouth andspeak, to get rid of their importunities, " was the pungent answer. Sheeffectually silenced a coxcomb, who aimed to annoy her by saying, "Oh!wit runs in the street nowadays, " by the retort, "Too fast for fools tocatch it, however. " Of Madeleine Guimard, the fascinating dancer, whowas exceedingly thin, Sophie said one night, after she had seen herdance a _pas de trois_ in which she represented a nymph being contendedfor by two satyrs, "It made her think of two dogs fighting for a bone. "*

 * This _mot_ the Paris wits have revived at the expense of Mlle. Sara Bernhardt. 

One day Voltaire said to her, "Ah! mademoiselle, I am eighty-four yearsold, and I have committed eighty-four follies" (_sottises_). "A meretrifle, " responded Sophie; "I am not yet forty, and I have committedmore than a thousand. "

For a time Mile. Arnould suffered under a loss of court favor, owingto her having made Mme. Du Barry the butt of her pointed sarcasms. A_lettre de cachet_ would have been the fate of another, but Sophie wastoo much of a popular idol to be so summarily treated. She, however, retired for a time from the theatre with a pension of two thousandfrancs, having already accumulated a splendid fortune. Instantly thatit was known she was under a cloud, there were plenty to urge that shenever had any voice, and that her only good points were beauty and fineacting. Abbé Galiani, a court parasite, remarked one night, "It's thefinest asthma I ever heard. "

In 1774 the great composer Gluck, whose genius was destined to have sucha profound influence on French music, came to Paris with his "Iphigenieen Aulide, " by invitation of the Dauphiness Marie Antoinette, who hadformerly been his musical pupil. The stiff and stilted works of Sullyand Rameau had thus far ruled the French stage without any competition, except from the Italian operettas performed by the company of LesBouffons, and the new school of French operatic comedy developed intoform by the lively genius of Grétry. When Gluck's magnificent opera, constructed on new art principles, was given to the Paris public, April 19, 1774, it created a deep excitement, and divided critics andconnoisseurs into opposing and embittered camps, in which the mostdistinguished wits, poets, and philosophers ranged themselves, andpelted each other with lampoons, pamphlets, and epigrams, which oftenleft wounds that had to be healed afterward by an application of coldsteel. In this contest Sophie Arnould, who had speedily emerged from herretirement, took an active part, for Gluck had selected her to act thepart of his heroines. The dramatic intensity and breadth of the Germancomposer's conceptions admirably suited Sophie, whose genius for actingwas more marked than her skill in singing. The success of Gluck's"Iphigenie" gave the finishing stroke to the antiquated operas ofRameau, in which the singer had made her reputation, and offered her anobler vehicle for art-expression. On her association with Gluck's musicSophie Arnould's fame in the history of art now chiefly rests. 

Gluck, like all others, yielded to the magic charm of the beautiful andwitty singer, and went so far as to permit rehearsals to be held at herown house. On one occasion the Prince de Hennin, one of the haughtiestof the grand seigneurs of the period, intruded himself, and, findinghimself unnoticed, interrupted the rehearsal with the remark, "Ibelieve it is the custom in France to rise when any one enters theroom, especially if it be a person of some consideration. " Gluck's eyesflashed with rage, as he sprang threateningly to his feet. "The customin Germany, sir, is to rise only for those whom we esteem!" he said;then turning to Sophie, who had been stopped in the middle of an air, "Iperceive, madame, that you are not mistress in your own house. I leaveyou, and shall never set foot here again. " Sophie is credited withhaving commented on this scene with the remark that it was the only casewhere she had ever witnessed a personal illustration of Æsop's fable ofthe lion put to flight by an ass. *

 * An English wit some years afterward perpetrated the same witticism on the occasion of Edmund Burke's leaving the House of Commons in a rage, because he was interrupted in one of his great speeches by a thick-witted country member. 

It is pleasant to know that the Prince de Hennin was obliged to make ahumble apology to Gluck, by order of Marie Antoinette. 

Sophie Arnould appeared with no less success in Gluck's operas of"Orphée" and "Alceste" than in the first, and rose again to the topmostwave of court favor. When "Orphée" was at rehearsal at the opera-house, it became the fashion of the great court dignitaries and the youngchevaliers of the period to attend. Gluck instantly, when he entered thetheatre, threw off his coat and wig, and conducted in shirt-sleevesand cotton nightcap. When the rehearsal was over, prince and marquiscontended as to who should act the part of _valet de chambre_. Thecomposer at this time was the subject of almost idolatrous admiration, for it was at a later period that the old quarrels were resumed againwith even more acrid personalities, and Piccini was imported from Italyby the Du Barry faction to be pitted against the German. Gluck returnedfrom Germany, whither he had gone on a visit, to find the oppositioncabal in full force, and the merits of the Italian composer laudedto the skies by the fickle public of Paris. But the former's greatestopera, "Iphigénie en Tauride, " was produced, and gave a fatal blowto Piccini's ascendancy, though his own opera on the same subject wasafterward given with great care. On the latter occasion Mile. Laguerre, the principal singer, appeared on the stage intoxicated, and was unableto get through the music successfully. "This is not 'Iphigenia inTauris, '" said witty Sophie Arnould, "but Iphigenia in Champagne. "Through some intrigue Gluck was persuaded to substitute Mile. Levasseurfor Mile. Arnould in the interpretation of his last great operas;so Sophie, enraged and disheartened, but to the gratification of themyriads of people whom she had offended by her cutting witticisms, whichhad been showered alike on friends and enemies, retired to private life, and thenceforward rarely appeared on the stage. 

III. 

Interest will be felt in some of Sophie Arnould's more distinguishedart contemporaries. Among these, the highest place must be given to Mme. Antoinette Cécile Saint Huberty, _née_ Gavel. Born in Germany of Frenchdescent, she made her first appearance in Paris in a small part inGluck's "Armide. " Small, thin, and unprepossessing in person, her powerof expression and artistic vocal-ism won more and more on the public, till the retirement of Sophie Arnould and Mile. Levasseur, and thedeath of Laguerre, left her in undisputed possession of the stage. WhenPiccini's "Didon, " his greatest opera, * was produced, she sang the partof the _Queen of Carthage_. 

 * "Didon, " differing widely from the other operas of Piccini, was modeled after the new operatic principles of Gluck, and was a magnificent homage on the part of his old rival to the genius of the German. Indeed, although the adherents of the two musicians waged so fierce a conflict, they themselves were full of respect and admiration for each other. Gluck always warmly expressed his appreciation of Piccini's "felicitous and charming melodies, the clearness of his style, the elegance and truth of his expression. " What Piccini's opinion of Gluck was is best shown in his proposition after Gluck's death to raise a subscription, not for the erection of a statue, but for the establishment of an annual concert to take place on the anniversary of Gluck's death, to consist entirely of his compositions--"in order to transmit to posterity the spirit and character of his magnificent works, that they may serve as a model to future artists of the true style of dramatic music. "

Marmontel, the poet of the opera, had already said at rehearsal, "Sheexpressed it so well that I imagined myself at the theatre, " and Piccinicongratulated her on having been largely instrumental in its success. As _Didon_ she made one of her greatest successes. "Never, " says Grimm, "has there been united acting more captivating, a sensibility moreperfect, singing more exquisite, happier by-play, and more noble_abandon_. " She was crowned on the stage--an honor hitherto unknown, and since so much abused. The secret of her marvelous gift lay in herextreme sensibility. Others might sing an air better, but no one couldgive to either airs or recitatives accentuation more pure or moreimpassioned, action more dramatic, and by-play more eloquent. Some onecomplimenting her on the vivid truth with which she embodied her part, "I really experience it, " she said; "in a death-scene I actually feel asif I were dead. "

It has been said that Talma was the first to discard the absurd costumesof the theatre, but this credit really belongs to Mme. Saint Huberty. She studied the Greek and Roman statues, and wore robes in keeping withthe antique characters, especially suppressing hoops and powder. Thissinger remained queen of the French stage until 1790, when she retired. During the time of her art reign she appeared in many of the principaloperas of Piccini, Salieri, Sacchini, and Grétry, showing but littleless talent for comedy than for tragedy. She retired from public lifeto become the wife of the Count d'Entraignes. Her tragic fate many yearsafterward is one of the celebrated political assassinations of the age. Count d'Entraignes at this time was residing at Barnes, England, havingrecently left the diplomatic service of Russia, in which he had shownhimself one of the most dangerous enemies of the Napoleonic governmentin France. The Count's Piedmontese valet had been bribed by a spy ofFouché, the French Minister of Police, to purloin certain papers. Thevalet was discovered by his master, and instantly stabbed him, and, asthe Countess entered the room a moment afterward, he also pierced herheart with the stiletto recking with her husband's blood, finishing theshocking tragedy by blowing out his own brains. Thus died, in 1812, onewho had been among the most brilliant ornaments of the French stage. 

No record of Sophie Arnould's artistic associates is complete withoutsome allusion to the celebrated dancers Gaëtan Vestris * and Auguste, his son. Gaétan was accustomed to say that there were three great menin Europe--Voltaire, Frederick the Great, and himself. In his old agehe preserved all his skill, and M. Castel Blaze, who saw him at theAcadémie fifty years after his _début_ in 1748, declares that he stilldanced with inimitable grace. 

 * Mme. Vestris, the last of the family, and the first wife of the English comedian Charles Mathews, was the granddaughter of Gaëtan. 

It is of Gaëtan that the story is told in connection with Gluck, whenthe opera of "Orphée" was put in rehearsal. The dancer wished for aballet in the opera. 

"Write me the music of a chacone, Monsieur Gluck, " said the god ofdancing. 

"A chacone!" ejaculated the astonished composer; "do you think theGreeks, whose manners we are endeavoring to depict, knew what a chaconewas?"

"Did they not?" said Vestris, amazed at the information; then, in a toneof compassion, "How much they are to be pitied!"

Gaëtan retired from the stage at the successful _début_ of Auguste, butappeared again from time to time to show his invulnerability to time. Onthe occasion of his son's first appearance, the veteran, in full courtdress, sword, and ruffles, and hat in hand, stepped to the front bythe side of the _débutante_. After a short address to the public on theimportance of the choreographic art and his hopes of his son, he turnedto Auguste and said: "Now, my son, exhibit your talent. Your father islooking at you. " He was accustomed to say: "Auguste is a better dancerthan I am; he had Gaëtan Vestris for a father, an advantage which naturerefused me. " "If, " said Gaëtan, on another occasion, "le dieu de ladanse" (a title which he had given himself) "touches the ground fromtime to time, he does so in order not to humiliate his comrades. "

 * This boast of Gaëtan Vestris seems to have inspired the lines which Moore afterward addressed to a celebrated _danseuse_:

 ". . . . You'd swear, When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round, That her steps are of light, that her home is the air, And she only _par complaisance_ touches the ground. "

The son inherited the paternal arrogance. To the director of the opera, De Vismes, who, enraged at some want of respect, said to him, "Do youknow who I am?" he drawled, "Yes! you are the farmer of my talent. " Onone occasion Auguste refused to obey the royal mandate, and Gaétan saidto him with some reproof in his tones: "What! the Queen of France doesher duty by requesting you to dance before the King of Sweden, andyou do not do yours! You shall no longer bear my name. I will have nomisunderstanding between the house of Vestris and the house of Bourbon;they have hitherto always lived on good terms. " It nearly brokeAuguste's heart when one day during the French Revolution he was seizedby a howling band of _sans culottes_ and made to exhibit his finestskill on the top of a barrel before this ragged mob of liberty-lovingcitizens!

The fascinating sylph, Madeleine Guimard, broke almost as many heartsand inspired as many duels as the charming Sophie Arnould herself. Plain even to ugliness, and excessively thin, her exquisite dancing andsplendid eyes made great havoc among her numerous admirers. Lord Byronsaid that thin women when young reminded him of dried butterflies, when old of spiders. The stage associates of Mile. Guimard called her"L'araignée, " and Sophie Arnould christened her "the little silkworm, "for the sake of the joke about "la feuille. " But such spiteful raillerydid not prevent her charming men to her feet whom greater beauties hadfailed to captivate. Houdon the sculptor molded her foot, and the greatpainters vied for the privilege of decorating the walls of her hotel. When she broke her arm, mass was said in church for her recovery, and she was one of the reigning toasts of Paris. Among the numerous_liaisons_ of Mile. Guimard, that with the Prince de Soubise is mostnoted. After this she eloped with a German prince, and the Prince deSoubise pursued them, wounded his rival, killed three of his servants, and brought her back to Paris in triumph. After a great variety ofadventures of this nature, she married in 1787 a humble professor ofdancing named Despriaux. Lord Mount Edgcumbe saw her in 1789 at theKing's Theatre in London. "Among them, " he writes, referring to a troupeof new performers, "came the famous Mile. Guimard, then nearly sixtyyears old, but still full of grace and gentility, and she had neverpossessed more. "

IV. 

When Sophie Arnould retired from the stage, she took a house near thePalais Royal, and extended as brilliant a hospitality as ever. She wasas celebrated for her practical jokes as for her witticisms, of whichthe following freak is a good example: One evening in 1780 she gave agrand supper, to which, among others, she invited M. Barthe, author of"Les Fausses Infidélités, " and many similar pieces. He was inflatedwith vanity, though he was totally ignorant of everything away from thetheatre, and was, in fact, one of those individuals who actually seemto court mystification and practical jokes. Mlle. Arnould instructed herservant Jeannot, and had him announced pompously under the title of theChevalier de Médicis, giving M. Barthe to understand that the young manwas an illegitimate son of the house of Medici. The pretended noblemanappeared to be treated with respect and distinction by the company, andhe spoke to the poet with much affability, professing great admirationfor his works. M. Barthe was enchanted. He was in a flutter of gratifiedvanity, and, to show his delight at the condescension of the chevalier, he proposed to write an epic poem in honor of his house. This farcelasted during the evening. The assembled company were in convulsions ofsuppressed laughter, which broke out when, at the moment of M. Barthe'smost ecstatic admiration and respect for his new patron, Sophie Arnouldlifted her glass, and, looking at the chevalier, said, in a clear voice, "Your health, Jeannot!" The sensations of poor M. Barthe may readily beimagined. The incident became the story of the day in all circles, andthe unlucky poet could not go anywhere for fear of being tormented about"Jeannot. "

At length she withdrew completely from the follies, passions, andcares of the world, and bought an ancient monastic building, formerlybelonging to the monks of St. Francis, near Luzarches, eighteen ortwenty miles from Paris. This grim residence she decorated luxuriouslyin its interior, and over the door inscribed the ecclesiastical motto, "Ite missa est. " Here she remained during the earlier storms of theRevolution, though she occasionally went to Paris at the risk of herhead to gratify her curiosity about the republican management of opera, which presented some very unique features. The reader will be interestedin some brief pictures of the revolutionary opera. 

It was directed by four distinguished _sans culottes_--Henriot, Chaumette, Le Rouxand, and Hébert. The nominal director, however, wasFrancoeur, the same who first brought out Sophie Arnould in Louis XV. 'stime. Henriot, Danton, Hébert, and other chiefs of the Revolution wouldhardly take a turn in the _coulisses_ or _foyer_ before they would sayto some actor or actress: "We are going to your room; see that we arereceived properly. " This of course meant a superb collation; and, afteremptying many bottles of the costliest wines, the virtuous republicanswould retire without troubling themselves on the score of expense. Asthis was a nightly occurrence, and the poor actors had no money, theexpense fell on the restaurateur, who was compelled to console himselfby the reflection that it was in the cause of liberty. Oftentimes theexecutioner, the dreaded Sanson, who as public official had the right ofentree, would stroll in and in a jocular tone emphasize his abilities asa critic by saying to the singers that his opinion on the _execution_ ofthe music ought to be respected. *

 * So, too, the London hangman one night went into the pit of her Majesty's Theatre to hear Jenny Lind sing, and remarked with a sigh of professional longing, "Ah, what a throat to scrag!"

Operatic kings and queens were suppressed, and the titles of royaltywere prohibited both on the stage and in the greenroom. It wasnecessary, indeed, to use the old monarchical répertoire; but kingswere transformed into chiefs; princes and dukes became members of theConvention or representatives of the people; seigneurs became mayors, and substitutes were found for words like "crown, " "scepter, " "throne, "etc. There was one great difficulty to overcome. This was met by placingthe scenes of the new operas in Italy, Portugal, etc. --anywhere but inFrance, where it was indispensable from a political point of view, butimpossible from the poetic and musical, to make lovers address eachother as _citoyen, citoyenne_. 

Hébert would frequently display proscriptive lists in the green-room, including the names of many of the actors and other operatic employees, and say, "I shall have to send you all to the guillotine some day, butI have been prevented hitherto by the fact that you have conduced tomy amusement. " The stratagem which saved them was to get the ferociousHébert drunk, for he loved wine as well as blood, and steal the fataldocument. However, this operatic _dilettante_ always appeared witha fresh one next day. One bloodthirsty republican, Lefebvre, who wasambitious for musical fame, insisted on singing first characters. Heappeared as _primo tenore_, and was hissed; he then tried his luck asfirst bass, and was again hissed by his friends the _sans culottes_. Enraged by the _fiasco_, he attributed it to the machinations of acounter-revolution, and nearly persuaded Robespierre to give him aplatoon of musketeers to fire on the infamous emissaries of "Pitt andCoburg. " Yet, though the Reign of Terror was a fearful time for artand artists, there were sixty-three theatres open, and they were alwayscrowded in spite of war, famine, and the guillotine. 

It was fortunate for Sophie Arnould that her connection with the operahad closed prior to this dreadful period. As stated previously, sheremained undisturbed during the early years of the Revolution. Onlyonce a band of _sans culottes_ invaded her retreat. To their suspiciousquestions she answered by assurances of loving the republic devotedly. Her unconsciously satirical smile aroused distrust, and they were abouthurrying her off to prison, when she pointed out a bust of Gluck, andinquired if she would keep a bust of Marat if she were not loyal tothe republic. This satisfied her intelligent inquisitors, and theyretreated, saying, "She is a good _citoyenne_, after all, " as theysaluted the marble. During this time she was still rich, having thirtythousand livres a year. But misfortunes thickened, and in two years shehad lost nearly every franc. Obliged to go to Paris to try to save thewreck of her estate, she found her hosts of friends dissipated like thedew, all guillotined, shot, exiled, or imprisoned. 

A gleam of sunshine came, however, in the kindness of Fouché, theMinister of Police, an old lover. One morning the Minister receivedthe message of an unknown lady visitor. On receiving her he instantlyrecognized the still beautiful and sparkling lineaments of the woman hehad once adored. Fouché, touched, heard her story, and by his powerfulintercession secured for her a pension of twenty-four hundred livres andhandsome apartments in the Hôtel D'Angevil-liers. Here she speedily drewaround her again the philosophers and fashionables, the poets and theartists of the age; and the Sophie Arnould of the golden days of oldseemed resurrected in the vivacity and brilliancy of the talk from whichtime and misfortune had taken nothing of its pungent salt. In 1803 shedied obscurely; and the same year there also passed out of the worldtwo other celebrated women, the great actress Clairon and the singer DeBeaumesnil, once Sophie's rival. 

Lord Mount Edgcumbe, in his "Musical Reminiscences, " speaks of SophieArnould, whom he heard in ante-revolutionary days, as a woman ofentrancing beauty and very great dramatic genius. This connoisseur tellsus too that her voice, though limited in range and not very flexible, was singularly rich, strong, and sweet, fitting her exceptionally forthe performance of the simple and noble arias of Gluck, which wererather characterized by elevation and dramatic warmth than floridornamentation. Her place in art is, therefore, as the finestcontemporary interpreter of Wagner's greater predecessor. 

ELIZABETH BILLINGTON AND HER CONTEMPORARIES. 

Elizabeth Weichsel's Runaway Marriage. --_Début_ at Covent Garden. --LordMount Edgcumbe's Opinion of her Singing. --Her Rivalry with Mme. Mara. --Mrs. Billington's Greatness in English Opera. --She sings in Italyin 1794-'99. --Her Great Power on the Italian Stage. --Marriage withFelican. --Reappearance in London in Italian and English Opera. --Sketchof Mme. Mara's Early Lite. --Her Great Triumphs on the EnglishStage. --Anecdotes of her Career and her Retirement fromEngland. --Grassini and Napoleon. --The Italian Prima Donna disputesSovereignty with Mrs. Billington. --Her Qualities as an Artist. --Mrs. Billington's Retirement from the Stage and Declining Years. 

I. 

Among the comparatively few great vocalists born in England, thetraditions of Mrs. Elizabeth Billington's singing rank her as by farthe greatest. Brought into competition with many brilliant artists fromother countries, she held her position unshaken by their rivalry. Shecame of musical stock. Her father, Charles Weichsel, was Saxon by birth, but spent most of his life as an orchestral player in London; and hermother was a charming vocalist of considerable repute. Born in 1770 inthe English capital, she was most carefully trained in music from anearly age, and her gifts displayed themselves so manifestly as to giveassurance of that brilliant future which made her the admiration of hertimes. Both she and her brother Charles were regarded as prodigies ofyouthful talent, the latter having attained some distinction on theviolin at the age of six, though he failed in after-years, unlike hisbrilliant sister, to fulfill his juvenile promise. Elizabeth Weichselwhen only eleven composed original pieces for the piano, and at the ageof fourteen appeared in concert at Oxford. Her career was so longand eventful that we must hurry over its youthful stages. The youngcantatrice at the age of fifteen was sought in marriage by Mr. ThomasBillington, who had been her music-master, and, as her father wasbitterly opposed to the connection, the enamored couple eloped, and weremarried at Lambeth Church with great secrecy. 

They soon found themselves at their wits' end. With no money, andwithout the established reputation which commands the attention ofmanagers, Mrs. Billington found that in taking a husband she had assumeda fresh responsibility. Finally she secured an engagement at the SmockAlley Theatre in Dublin, when she appeared in Gluck's opera of "Orpheusand Eurydice, " with the well-known tenor Tenducci, whose exquisitesinging of the air, "Water parted from the Sea, " in the opera of"Artaxerxes, " had chiefly contributed to his celebrity. It was _àpropos_ of this that the well-known Irish street-song of the day wascomposed:

 "Tenducci 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. '"

For about a year the young singer played provincial engagements, but itwas good training for her. Her powers were becoming matured, and she waslearning self-reliance in the bitter school of experience, which moreand more assured her of coming triumph. At last she persuaded Lewis, themanager of Covent Garden, to give her a metropolitan hearing. Though hervoice at this time had not attained the volume and power of after-years, its qualities were exceptional. Its compass was in the upper notesextraordinary, though in the lower register rather limited. She was wellaware of this defect, and tried to remedy it by substituting one octavefor another; a license which passed unnoticed by the undiscriminatingmultitude, while it was easily excused by cultivated ears, being, asone connoisseur remarked, "like the wild luxuriance of poetical imagery, which, though against the cold rules of the critic, constitutes thetrue value of poetry. " She had not the full tones of Banti, but ratherresembled those of Allegranti, whom she closely imitated. Her voice, in its very high tones, was something of the quality of a flute orflageolet, or resembled a commixture of the finest sounds of the fluteand violin, if such could be imagined. It was then "wild and wandering, "but of singular sweetness. "Its agility, " says Mount Edgcumbe, "was verygreat, and everything she sang was executed in the neatest manner andwith the utmost precision. Her knowledge of music enabled her to givegreat variety to her embellishments, which, as her taste was alwaysgood, were always judicious. " In her cadenzas, however, she was obligedto trust to her memory, for she never could improvise an ornament. Herear was so delicate that she could instantly detect any instrument outof tune in a large orchestra; and her intonation was perfect. In mannershe was "peculiarly bewitching, " and her attitudes generally were good, with the exception of an ugly habit of pressing her hands againsther bosom when executing difficult passages. Her face and figure werebeautiful, and her countenance was full of good humor, though notsusceptible of varied expression; indeed, as an actress, she hadcomparatively little talent, depending chiefly on her voice forproducing effect on the stage. 

Mrs. Billington's __début__ in London was on February 13, 1786, in thepresence of royalty and a great throng of nobility and fashion, in thecharacter of _Rosetta_ in "Love in a Village. " Her success was beyondthe most sanguine hopes, and her brilliant style, then an innovationin English singing, bewildered the pit and delighted the musicalconnoisseurs. The leader of the orchestra was so much absorbed in one ofher beautiful cadenzas that he forgot to give the chord at its close. Somuch science, taste, birdlike sweetness, and brilliancy had never beforebeen united in an English singer. So Mrs. Billington assumed undisputedsovereignty in the realm of song, for one night made her famous. Themanagers, who had haggled over the terms of thirteen pounds a week forher first brief engagement of twelve nights, were glad to give her athousand pounds for the rest of the season. For her second part shechose _Polly Peachum_ in "The Beggars' Opera, " to show her detractorsthat she could sing simple English ballad-music with no less taste andeffect than the brilliant and ornate style with which she first tookthe town by storm. Mara, the great German singer, who until then had norival, was distracted with rage and jealousy, which the sweet-temperedBillington treated with a careless smile. Though her success had beenso brilliant, she relaxed no effort in self-improvement, and studiedassiduously both vocalism and the piano. Indeed, Salomon, Haydn'simpressario, said of her with enthusiasm, "Sar, she sing equally wellwid her troat and her fingers. " At the close of this season, which wasthe opening of a great career, Mrs. Billington visited Paris, whereshe placed herself under the instruction of the composer Sacchini, whogreatly aided her by his happy suggestions. To him she confesses herselfto have been most indebted for what one of her admirers called "thatpointed expression, neatness of execution, and nameless grace by whichher performance was so happily distinguished. "

Kelly, the Irish actor and singer, who made her acquaintance about thistime, said he thought her an angel of beauty and the St. Cecilia ofsong. Her loveliness enchanted even more by the sweetness and amiabilityof its expression than by symmetry of feature, and everywhere shewas the idol of an adoring public. Even her rivals, embittered byprofessional jealousy, soon melted in the sunshine of her sweet temper. An amusing example of professional rivalry is related by John Bernard inhis "Reminiscences, " where Miss George, afterward Lady Oldmixon, managedto cloud the favorite's success by a cunning musical trick. "Mrs. Billington, who was engaged on very high terms for a limited number ofnights, made her first appearance on the Dublin stage in the characterof _Polly_ in 'The Beggars' Opera, ' surrounded by her halo ofpopularity. She was received with acclamations, and sang her songsdelightfully; particularly 'Cease your Funning, ' which was tumultuouslyencored. Miss George, who performed the part of _Lucy_ (an up-hillsinging part), perceiving that she had little chance of dividingthe applause with the great magnet of the night, had recourse to thefollowing stratagem: When the dialogue duet in the second act, 'Why, hownow, Madam Flirt?' came on, Mrs. Billing-ton having given her verse withexquisite sweetness, Miss George, setting propriety at defiance, sangthe whole of her verse an octave higher, her tones having the effect ofthe high notes of a sweet and brilliant flute. The audience, taken bysurprise, bestowed on her such loud applause as almost shook the wallsof the theatre, and a unanimous encore was the result. "

Haydn gave this opinion on her in his "Diary" in 1791: "On the 10th ofDecember I went to see the opera of 'The Woodman' (by Shield). It was onthe day when the provoking memoir of Mrs. Billington was published. Shesang rather timidly, but yet well. She is a great genius. The tenor wasIncledon. The common people in the gallery are very troublesome in everytheatre, and take lead in uproar. The audience in the pit and boxes haveoften to clap a long time before they can get a fine part repeated. Itwas so this evening with the beautiful duet in the third act: nearly aquarter of an hour was spent in contention, but at length the pit andboxes gained the victory, and the duet was repeated. The two actorsstood anxiously on the stage all the while. " The great composer paidher one of the prettiest compliments she ever received. Reynolds waspainting her portrait in the character of St. Cecilia, and one day Haydncalled just as it was being finished. Haydn contemplated the picturevery attentively, then said suddenly, "But you have made a greatmistake. " The painter started up aghast. "How! what?" "Why, " said Haydn, "you have represented Mrs. Billington listening to the angels; youshould have made the angels listening to her!" Mrs. Billington blushedwith pleasure. "Oh, you dear man!" cried she, throwing her arms roundhis neck and kissing him. 

II. 

Mrs. Billington seems to have entertained the notion in 1794 of quittingthe stage, and went abroad to free herself from the protests andreproaches which she knew the announcement of her purpose would callforth if she remained in England. Accompanied by her husband andbrother, she sauntered leisurely through Europe, for her professionalexertions had already brought her a comfortable fortune. A trivialaccident set her feet again in the path which she had designed toforsake, and which she was destined to adorn with a more brilliantdistinction. The party had traveled _incognito_, but on arriving inNaples a babbling servant revealed the identity of the great singer, which speedily became known to Lady Hamilton, Lord Nelson's friend, thendomiciled in Naples as the favorite of the royal family. Lady Hamiltoninsisted on presenting Mrs. Billington to the Queen, and she waspersuaded to sing in a private concert before their Majesties, which wasswiftly succeeded by an invitation, so urgent as to take the color ofcommand, to sing at the San Carlo. So the English prima donna madeher _début_ before the Neapolitans in "Inez di Castro, " which had beenspecially arranged for her by Francesco Bianchi. The fervid Naplesaudience received her with passionate acclamations, to which she hadnever been accustomed from the more impassive English. Hitherto herreputation had been mostly identified with English opera; thenceforwardshe was to be known chiefly as a brilliant exponent of the Italianschool of music. 

Paesiello's "Didone, " Paer's "Ero e Leandro, " and Guglielmi's "Deborah eSisera" rapidly succeeded, each one confirming afresh the admiration ofher hearers, who were all _cognoscenti_, as Italian audiences generallyare. It became the vogue to patronize the beautiful cantatrice, and thelarge English colony, who were led by some of the noblest gentlewomenof England, such as Lady Templeton, Lady Palmerston, Lady GertrudeVilliers, Lady Grandison, and others, made it a matter of nationalpride to give the singer an enthusiastic support. English influencewas all-paramount at the court of Naples, from important politicalexigencies, and this cooperated with Mrs. Billington's extraordinarymerits to raise her to a degree of consideration which had been rarelyattained by any singer in that beautiful Italian capital, prone as itspeople are to indulge in exaggerated admiration of musical celebrities. She sang for nearly two years at the San Carlo, and in 1796 we find herat Bologna before French military audiences, whom Napoleon's Italianvictories had brought across the Alps. The conqueror confessed himselfvanquished by the lovely Billington, and made her the guest of himselfand Josephine, who admired the art no less than she dreaded the beautyof a possible rival. 

The English singer passed from city to city of Italy, everywherearousing the liveliest admiration. Her _début_ in Venice was to be in"Semiramide, " written expressly for her by Nasolini, a young composer ofgreat promise. Illness, however, confined her to her bed for sixmonths, in spite of which the impressario paid her salary in full. Sherecovered, and showed her gratitude by singing without recompense duringthe fair of the Ascension, when immense throngs flocked to Venice. The_corps diplomatique_ presented her on the first night with a jewelednecklace of immense value, as a testimonial of their esteem and pleasureat her recovery. 

A singular evidence of the superstition of the Neapolitans was shown onher return to their city, which was then threatened by an eruption ofVesuvius and a dreadful earthquake, the cause of considerable damage. The populace believed that it was a visitation of God in punishment forthe permission granted to a heretic Englishwoman to sing at San Carlo. Mrs. Billington's safety was for a time threatened, but her talents andpopularity at last triumphed, and she rose higher in public regard thanbefore. Her Neapolitan engagement was terminated very suddenly by thedeath of her husband, as he was in the act one evening of cloaking herprior to her stepping into her carriage to go to the theatre. A singlegasp and a convulsion, and Thomas Billington was dead at his wife'sfeet. The consternation at this event was mixed with much scandal, andmany whispered that he had died from poison or the dagger. It was knownthat the Neapolitan nobles had paid Mrs. Billington warm attention, and hints of assassination were industriously circulated by thosegossip-mongers who are always in quest of a fresh social sensation. Mrs. Billington, after remaining for some time in retirement, fled from ascene which was fraught with painful memories, though there is no reasonto believe that she deeply lamented the loss of a husband whose onlyattraction to this brilliant woman was the reflected light of her youth, which invested him with the association of her first girlish love. Atall events, the widow succeeded in becoming desperately enamoredin Milan, a short six months after, with an officer of the Frenchcommissariat, M. Felican. He was a remarkably handsome man, and hisstrong siege of the lovely Billington soon caused her to surrender atdiscretion. She declared "she was in love for the first time in herlife, " and her marriage took place in 1799 without delay. Her raptures, however, came to a swift conclusion; for among M. Felican's favoritemethods of displaying marital devotion were beating her, and hurlingdishes or other convenient movables at her head when in the leastirritated. The novel character of her honeymoon soon became known to acurious and possibly envious public, and the brutal Felican was publiclyflogged at the drum-head by order of General Serrurier, within twomonths of her marriage, for whipping her so cruelly that she could notappear in the opera of the evening. 

The tenor, Braham, sang with Mrs. Billington at Milan during thisperiod, in the opera "Il Trionfo de Claria, " by Nasolini, and anamusing incident occurred in the rivalry of the two, each to surpassthe other in popular estimation. The applause which Braham received atrehearsal enraged Felican, who intrigued till he persuaded the leader toomit the grand aria for the tenor voice, in which Braham's powers wereadvantageously displayed. This piece of spite and jealousy being noisedabout, the public openly testified their displeasure, and the next dayit was announced by Gherardi, the manager, in the bills, that Braham'sscena should be performed; and on the second night of the opera it wasreceived with tumultuous applause. Braham, justly indignant, avengedhimself in an ingenious manner, but his wrath descended on an innocenthead. Mrs. Billington's embellishments 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 listenedin dismay at the wings. She could not improvise ornaments and graces;and, when she came on, the unusual meagerness of her style astonishedthe audience. She refused, in the next opera, to sing a duet withBraham; but, as she was good-natured, she forgave him, and they alwaysremained excellent friends. 

With that perverse devotion which characterizes the love of so manywomen, Mrs. Billington clung to her brutal husband in spite of hiscruelty and callousness, and she did not separate from him till shefeared for her life. Many times he threatened to kill her, and extortedfrom her by fear all the valuable jewels in her possession, as wellas the larger share of the money received from professional exertion. Despairing at last of any change, she fled with great secrecy toEngland, where she arrived in 1801, after an absence of seven years, during which time her name had become one of the most popular in Europe. There was instantly a battle between Harris and Sheridan, the rivalmanagers, as to which should secure this peerless attraction. Shefinally signed a contract with her old friend Harris, for three thousandguineas the season from October to April, and the guarantee of a freebenefit of five hundred guineas. It was likewise arranged that sheshould sing for Sheridan at similar terms on alternate nights, as therewas a bitter dispute between the managers over the priority of the offeraccepted by the prima donna. Her reappearance before an English audiencewas made in Dr. Arne's "Artaxerxes, " which the critics of the daypraised as possessing "the beautiful melody of Hasse, the mellifluousrichness of Pergolese, the easy flow of Piccini, and the finishedcantabile of Sacchini, with his own true and native simplicity. " It isnot only the criticism of to-day which has concealed the real form andquality of works of merely temporary interest under flowery phrases, that mean nothing. 

It was speedily observed how greatly Mrs. Billington's style hadimproved in her absence. Lord Mount Edgcumbe says she resembled Mara somuch that the same observations would apply to both equally well. "Bothwere excellent musicians, thoroughly skilled in their profession; bothhad voices of uncommon sweetness and agility, particularly suited to thebravura style, and executed to perfection and with good taste everythingthey sang. But neither was Italian, and consequently both were deficientin recitative. Neither had much feeling, both were deficient intheatrical talents, and they were absolutely null as actresses;therefore they were more calculated to give pleasure in the concert-roomthan on the stage. " It was noticed that her pronunciation of the Englishlanguage was not quite free from impurities, arising principally fromthe introduction of vowels before consonants, a habit probably acquiredfrom the Italian custom. "Her whole style of elocution, " observes onewriter, "may be described as sweet and persuasive rather than powerfuland commanding. It naturally assumed the character of her mind andvoice. " She was considered the most accomplished singer that had everbeen born in England. 

Mrs. Billington displayed her talents in a variety of operaticcharacters, which taxed her versatility, but did not prove beyond herpowers. Both English and Italian operas, serious and comic _rôles_, seemed entirely within her scope; and those who admired her as _Mandane_were not less fascinated by her _Rosetta_, when Ineledon shared thehonors of the evening with herself. In spite of Lord Mount Edgcumbe'ssomewhat severe judgment as given above, she appears to have pleased byher acting as well as singing, if we can judge from the wide diversityof characters in which she appeared so successfully. We are justified inthis, especially from the character of the English opera, of which Mrs. Billington was so brilliant an exponent; for this was rather musicaldrama than opera, and made strong demands on histrionic faculty. As _Rosetta_, in "Love in a Village, " a performance in which Mrs. Billington was peculiarly charming, she drew such throngs that the priceof admission was raised for the nights on which it was offered. Thewitticism of Jekyl, the great barrister, made the town laugh on one ofthese occasions. Being present with a country friend in the pit, thelatter asked him, as Mrs. Billington appeared in the garden-scene, "Isthat Rosetta?" The singer's portly form, which had increased largely inbulk during her Italian absence, made the answer peculiarly appropriate:"No, sir, it is not Rosetta, it is Grand Cairo. "

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

III. 

Frederick the Great loved war and music with equal fervor, and possessedtalents for the one little inferior to his genius for the other. Heplayed with remarkable skill on the flute, of which instrument hepossessed a large collection, and composed original music with bothscience and facility. This royal connoisseur carried his despotism intohis love of art, and ruled with an iron hand over those who cateredfor the amusement of himself and the good people of Berlin. Though thecreator of that policy which, in the hands of Bismarck and the modernGerman nationalists, has wrought such wonderful results, and which hasextended itself even to matters of aesthetic culture as a gospel ofpatriotic bigotry, the great Fritz thoroughly despised everything Germanexcept in matters of state, and was completely wedded to the literatureof France and the art of Italy. When the talents of a young Germanvocalist, Mlle. Schmäling, were recommended to him, it was enough forhim to hear the report, "She sings like a German, " to make him sniffwith disdain. "A German singer!" he said; "I should as soon expect toget pleasure from the neighing of my horse. " Curiosity, however, at lastso far overcame prejudice as to make him send for Mlle. Schmäling, whowas enthusiastically praised by many of those whose opinions the Kingcould not ignore, to come to Potsdam and sing for him. Her pride, whichwas high, had been wounded by the royal criticism, and she carriedherself with as much _hauteur_ as could go with respect. The Kingregarded her with a cool stare, without any gesture of salutation, andMile. Schmäling amused herself with looking at the pictures. "So youare going to sing me something?" at last said royalty with militaryabruptness. 

The figure of the Prussian King as he sat by the piano was anything butprepossessing. A little, crabbed, spare old man, attired with Spartansimplicity, in a faded blue coat, whose red facings were smudged brownwith the Spanish snuff he so liberally took; thin lips, prominent jaws, receding forehead, and eyes of supernatural keenness glaring from undershaggy brows; a battered cocked hat, and a thick cane, which he used asa whip to belabor his horse, his courtiers, or his soldiers as occasionneeded, on the table before him--all these made a grim picture. 

Mlle. Schmäling answered his curt words with "As your Majesty pleases, "and instantly sat down at the piano. As she sang, Frederick's facerelaxed, and taking a huge pinch of snuff, he said, "Ha! can you singat sight?" (then an extraordinary accomplishment). Picking out themost difficult bravura in his collection, he bade her try it, with theremark, "This, to be sure, is but poor stuff, but when well executedsounds pretty enough. " The result of the royal examination convinced theKing that Mlle. Schmäling had not only a magnificent voice, but was athorough artist. So the daughter of the poor musician of Cassel, aftermany years of hard struggle and ill success (for she had sung in almostevery German capital), was made Frederick's chief court singer at theage of twenty-two, and the road to fortune was fairly open to her. Atthe age of four years she had showed such aptitude for music that shequickly learned the violin, though her baby fingers could hardly spanthe strings. She always retained her predilection for this instrument, and maintained that it was the best guide in learning to sing. "For, "said she, "how can you best convey a just notion of slight vibrations inthe pitch of a note? By a fixed instrument? No! By the voice? No! But, by sliding the finger on the string, you instantly make the most minutevariation visibly as well as audibly perceptible. " She owed her successentirely to the charm of her art. 

Elizabeth Schmäling's personal appearance was far from striking. Shewas by no means handsome, being short and insignificant, with a ratheragreeable, good-natured countenance, the leading feature of whichwas--terrible defect in a singer--a set of irregular teeth, whichprojected, in defiance of order, out of their proper places. Her manner, however, was prepossessing, though she was an indifferent actress. But her voice atoned for everything: its compass was from G to E inaltissimo, which she ran with the greatest ease and force, the tonesbeing at once powerful and sweet. Both her _portamento di voce_ andher volubility were declared to be unrivaled. It was remarked that sheseemed to take difficult music from choice, and she could sing fluentlyat sight--rather a rare accomplishment among vocalists of that day. Nothing taxed her powers. Her execution was easy and neat; her shake wastrue, open, and liquid; and though she preferred brilliant, effectivepieces, her refined taste was well known. "Her voice, clear, sweet, and distinct, was sufficiently powerful, " remarked Lord Mount Edgcumbeafterward, "though rather thin, and its agility and flexibility renderedher a most excellent bravura singer, in which style she was unrivaled. ""Mara's divisions, " observes another critic, "always seemed to conveya meaning; they were vocal, not instrumental; they had light and shade, and variety of tone. "

Frederick was highly pleased with his musical acquisition, but amore potent monarch than himself soon appeared to disturb his royalcomplacency. Mlle. Schmäling, placed in a new position of ease andluxury, found time to indulge her natural bent as a woman, and fell inlove with a handsome violoncellist, Jean Mara, who was in the service ofthe King's brother. Mara was a showy, shallow, selfish man, and pushedhis suit with vigor, for success meant fortune and a life of luxuriousease. The King forbade the match, so the enamored couple eloped, and, being arrested by the King's guards, they were punished by Fritz withsolitary confinement for disobedience. At last the King relented, andsanctioned the marriage which he suspected opposition would only delay, probably fully aware that the lady would soon repent her infatuation. Jean Mara did all in his power to effect this result, for the honeymoonhad hardly ended before he began to beat his bride at small provocationwith all the energy of a sturdy arm. Poor Mme. Mara had a hard life ofit thenceforward, but she never ceased to love Mara to the last;and many years afterward, when a friend was severely reprobating hisbrutality, she said, with a sigh of loving regret, "Ah! but you mustconfess he was the handsomest man you ever saw. "

The King frequently interposed to punish Mara for his harshness. On oneoccasion he gave him a public caning and on another he sent him to afield regiment, noted for the rigid severity of its discipline, to beenrolled as a drummer for three months, accompanying the order with the_mot_, "His propensity for beating shall have the fullest exerciseon the drum. " A ludicrous sentence of the royal despot was that whichconsigned him to the tender mercies of the body-guard, with strictorders for his correction. No particular mode of punishment wasprescribed, so each soldier inflicted such chastisement as he consideredmost fitting. They began by rigging him out in an old uniform and alarge pair of whiskers, loading him with the heaviest firelock theycould find, and forced him to go through the manual exercise for twohours, accompanying their drill with the usual discipline of the cane. They then made him dance and sing for two hours longer, and ended thispersecution by compelling the surgeon to take from him a large quantityof blood. In a miserable condition they restored him to his disconsolatewife, who had been essaying all her arts to persuade the officer of theguard to mitigate the poor wretch's punishment. 

The King's method of carrying on the opera was characteristic. Performances were free, and commenced precisely at 6 p. M. , when, promptto the minute, the King appeared and took his seat just behind theconductor, where he could see the score, and notice every mistake, either instrumental or vocal. A royal caning often repaid any unluckyartist who made a blunder, much to the gratification of the audience. Such a patron as this, however generous, could not be considered highlydesirable; and Mme. Mara, whose reputation had become world-wide, longedmore and more to accept some of the brilliant offers which came toher from the great capitals of Europe. But Frederick would not lethis favorite prima donna go, and the royal passport was necessary forgetting beyond the limits of the kingdom. An example of Frederick'smethod of dealing with his subjects and servants is found in thefollowing incident: The Grand Duke Paul of Russia was visiting Berlin, and on a gala night a grand performance of opera was to be given. Mme. Mara had sent an excuse that she was sick, but a laconic notice from herroyal patron insisted that she was to get well and sing her best. So theprima donna took to her bed and grew worse and worse. Two hours beforethe opera commenced, a carriage escorted by eight soldiers drew upin front of the house, and the captain of the guard, unceremoniouslyentering her room, intimated that she must go to the theatre dead oralive. 

"You can not take me, " she said with tears of rage; "you see I am inbed. "

"That's of little consequence, " was the imperturbable response; "we'lltake you bed and all. "

Madame's eyes flashed fire, and she stormed with fury; but the obduratecaptain could not be moved, and, to avoid the disgrace of being taken byforce, she accepted an armistice. "I will go to the theatre, " she said, mentally resolving to sing as badly as, with a magnificent voice andirreproachable taste, she could possibly manage. Resolutely she kept tothis idea till the curtain was about to descend on the first act, when athought suddenly seized her. Might she not be ruining herself in givingthe Grand Duke of Russia a bad opinion of her powers? In a bravura sheburst forth with all her power, distinguishing herself especially by amarvelous shake, which she executed with such wonderful art as to calldown thunders of applause. 

At last the Maras succeeded in effecting their escape by stratagem. In passing through one city they were stopped by an officer of _gensd'armes_, who demanded the requisite papers. Faltering with dread, yetwith quick self-possession, Mme. Mara handed him a letter in the royalhandwriting. The signature was enough, and the officer did not stop toread the body of the letter, but turned out the guard to honor travelerspossessing such signal proofs of the King's favor. They had justgained the gates of Dresden when they found that the Prussian _chargéd'affaires_ resided in the city. "No one can conceive my agitation andalarm, " said Mme. Mara, "when, in one of the first streets we entered, we encountered the said _charge d'affaires_, who rode directly up tous. He had been apprised of our arrival, and the chaise was instantlystopped. As to what took place between him and my good man, and how thelatter 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 hadreached our inn. " At length they reached the confines of Bohemia, and, for the first time, supped in freedom and security. 

The Austrian Empress, Maria Theresa, would have found enough motivein patronizing Mara in the fact that her great Prussian rival hadpersecuted her; but love of art was a further inducement which drew outher kindliest feelings. The singer remained at the Viennese courtfor two years, and left it for Paris, with autograph letters to theill-fated Marie Antoinette. She was most cordially welcomed both bycourt and public, and soon became such a rival to the distinguishedPortuguese prima donna, Todi, then in the zenith of her fame, that thedevotees of music divided themselves into fierce factions respectivelynamed after the rival queens of song. Mara was honored with the title of_première cantatrice de la reine_, and left Paris with regret, to beginher English career under singularly favorable auspices, as she wasinvited to share a partnership with Linley and Dr. Arnold for theproduction of oratorios at Drury Lane. 

She was fortunate in making her first appearance in the grand Handelcommemoration at Westminster Abbey, given under the patronage of GeorgeIII. , who loved the memory of the great composer. Even in this day ofmagnificent musical festivals, that Westminster assemblage of musicianswould have been a remarkable occasion. The following is an account of itfrom a contemporary source: "The orchestra was led by the Cramers; theconductors were Joah Bates, Dr. Arnold, and Dupuis. The band consistedof several hundreds of performers. The singers were, in addition toMine. Mara, Signora Storace, Miss Abrams, Miss Poole (afterward Mrs. Dickons), Rubinelli, Harrison, Bartleman, Sale, Parry, Nor-ris, Kelly, etc. ; and the chorus, collected from all parts of the kingdom, amountedto hundreds of voices. The Abbey was arranged for the accommodationof the public in a superb and commodious manner, and the tickets ofadmission were one guinea each. The first performance took place onMay 20, 1784; and such was the anxiety to be in time, that ladies andgentlemen had their hair dressed over night, and slept in arm-chairs. The weather being very fine, eager crowds presented themselves at theseveral doors of the Abbey at nine o'clock, although the door-keeperswere not at their posts, and the orchestra was not finished. At teno'clock the scene became almost terrifying to the visitors, who, beingin full dress, were every moment more incommoded and alarmed by theviolence of the crowds pressing forward to get near the doors. Severalof the ladies screamed; others fainted; and the general dismay increasedto such an extent that fatal consequences were anticipated. Some of themore irascible among the gentlemen threatened to burst open the doors;'a measure, ' says Dr. Burney, 'which, if adopted, would probably havecost many of the more feeble and helpless their lives, as they must, in falling, have been thrown down and trampled on by the robust andimpatient part of the crowd. ' However, except that some went in with'disheveled hair and torn garments, ' no real mischief seems to have beendone. The spectacle was gorgeous. The King, Queen, and all the royalfamily, were ushered to a superb box, opposite the orchestra, by thedirectors, wearing full court suits, the medal of Handel struck for theoccasion, suspended by white-satin rosettes to their breasts, and havingwhite wands in their hands. The body of the cathedral, the galleries, and every corner were crowded with beauty, rank, and fashion, listeningwith almost devout silence to the grand creations of the great composer, not the faintest token of applause disturbing the impressive ceremony. "

The splendid and solemn tones of Mara's voice enraptured every heart, and her style was the theme of universal admiration. A few, however, resisted the charm of her singing. Miss Seward was breakfasting onemorning with Mr. Joah Bates, one of the conductors, and delicatelyflattered his wife's singing of the Handelian music by saying that Maraput too much gold and fringe upon that solemn robe of melody, "I knowthat my Redeemer liveth. " "Do not say gold, ma-dame, " answered the tartmusician; "it was despicable tinsel. "

At one of these Westminster Abbey performances a striking coincidenceoccurred. The morning had been threatening a storm; but instantly thegrand chorus "Let there be light, and light was over all" commenced, thesun burst forth and gilded every dark nook of the solemn old Abbey witha flood of splendor. On another occasion, while a chorus descriptive ofa storm was being sung, a hurricane burst over the Abbey, and the fiercerattling of hailstones, accompanied by peals of thunder, kept time tothe grand music of Handel. During the performance of the chorus "TheLord God Omnipotent Reigneth, " the audience was so moved that King, Queen, royal family, and all present, rose by a common impulse to theirfeet--a practice which has been preserved in English audiences to thisday during the singing of this mightiest of all musical choruses. Mme. Mara gave great offense by remaining seated. 

Shortly afterward she sang at a musical festival of Oxford University, whither the report of her supposed bad temper and intractability hadpreceded her. The gownsmen were as riotous then as now; and as one ortwo things happened to irritate their lively temper, a row soon becameimminent. Mara got angry and flung a book at the head of one of theorchestra, when Dr. Chapman, the Vice-Chancellor, arose and said thatMme. Mara had conducted herself too ill to be allowed to sing beforesuch an audience. Instantly a wicked wag cried out, "A riot, bypermission of the Vice-Chancellor!" A scene of the utmost confusionensued, and the agitated cantatrice quitted the theatre, amid hisses andyells, in high dudgeon. A deputation of gentlemen waited upon her, andpromised that she should do exactly as she pleased if she would onlyreturn. She did return, and sang the airs allotted to her, but remainedseated as usual while the choruses were being sung. A cry arose of "TurnMara out!" Not comprehending, she smiled, which provoked the audiencestill more; upon which the Vice-Chancellor said that it was always therule for every vocalist to join in the choruses. Miss George, one of thesingers, explained this to the prima donna, who, staring in bewildermentand vexation, exclaimed, "Oh! me does not know his rules; me vill gohome"; which resolution she immediately carried into effect. 

This great singer's numerous quarrels and controversies in England werevery amusing. Yet, in spite of the personal bitterness growing out ofher own irritable temper and professional rivalry, she remained a greatartistic favorite with the public. Underneath the asperity and obstinacyof her character there was a vein of deep tenderness and generosity, which she showed in various cases, especially in forwarding theinterests of struggling artists. Michael Kelly, the Irish composer, inhis "Reminiscences, " gives the following instance. He himself, then ayoung man, had aroused Mara's dislike by some inadvertent praise ofa rival. Watching his opportunity, he brought into the greenroomone night, when she came off the stage fatigued and panting with herefforts, a pot of foaming porter, which she drank with a sigh of deepestpleasure. Touched by the young Irishman's thoughtfulness, she pledgedherself to help him whenever the opportunity came, and soon after sangat his benefit. Mara had resolved not to sing again on the lyric stage, and her condescension was a godsend to Kelly, who was then very much outat elbows. Speaking of her proffer, he says: "I was thunderstruck at herkindness and liberality, and thankfully accepted. She fixed on _Mandane_in 'Artaxerxes, ' and brought the greatest receipts ever known at thathouse, as the whole pit, with the exception of two benches, was railedinto boxes. So much, " he adds sententiously, "for a little Germanproficiency, a little common civility, and a pot of porter. "

IV. 

Mme. Mara made such a brilliant hit in opera that the public clamorfor her continuance on the stage overcame her old resolutions. Theopera-house was reopened, and Sir John Gallini, with this popularfavorite at the head of his enterprise, had a most prosperous season. Both as a lyric cantatrice and as the matchless singer of oratorio, shewas the delight of the public for two years. In 1788 she went to Turinto sing at the Carnival, where it was the custom to open the gala seasonwith a fresh artist, who supplied the place of the departing vocalist, whether a soprano or tenor. Her predecessor, a tenor, was piqued at hisdismissal, and tried to prejudice the public against her by representingher as alike-ugly in person and faulty in art. Mara's shrewdness ofresource turned the tables on the Italian. On her first appearance hermanner was purposely full of _gaucherie_, her costume badly consideredand all awry, her singing careless and out of time. The maligner wastriumphant, and said to all, "Didn't I say so? See how ugly she is; andas for singing--did you ever hear such a vile jargon of sounds?" On thesecond night Mara appeared most charmingly dressed, and she sang likean angel--a surprise to the audience which drove the excitable Italiansinto the most passionate uproar of applause and delight. Mara wascrowned on the stage, and was received by the King and Queen with theheartiest kindness and a profusion of costly gifts. A similar receptionat Venice tempted her to prolong her Italian tour, but she preferred toreturn to London, where she sang under Wyatt at the Pantheon, whichwas transformed into a temporary opera-house. She now sang withPacchierotti, the successor of Farinelli and Caffarelli, and the lastinheritor of their grand large style. "His duettos with Mara werethe most perfect pieces of execution I ever heard, " said Lord MountEdgcumbe. One of the most pathetic experiences of Mara's life was herpassage through Paris in 1792 on her way to Germany, when she saw herformer patroness Marie Antoinette, whom she remembered in all the gloryof her youth, popularity, and loveliness, seated in an open chariot, pale, wan, and grief-stricken, surrounded by a guard of troopers withdrawn swords and hooted at by a mob of howling _sans-culottes_. Betterfar to be a mimic queen than to be hurled from the most radiant andsplendid place in European royalty, to be the scorn and plaything of theragged ruffians of Paris, and to finish with the guillotine in the Placede la Grève! About this time she was freed from the _bête noire_ of herlife, her drunken worthless husband, who agreed to trouble her no moreif she would settle an annuity on him. Thenceforward they never met, though she always spoke of him with affection. 

Harris, of the Theatre Royal of Dublin, engaged Mara to sing in Englishopera in 1797. Despite the fact that her English was so faulty, that herperson was unprepossessing, and that the part was associated withsome of the most beautiful and accomplished singers on the stage, herperformance of _Polly Peachum_ in the "Beggars' Opera" was a masterpieceof delicious simplicity and archness. The perfection of her artvanquished all obstacles, and she was acknowledged the equal of Mrs. Crouch, and even of the resplendent Billington, in the part. Dr. Arnoldrecords that, in spite of the dancing and violent action of the _rôle_, her tones were as free, smooth, and perfect as if she had been standingin the orchestra. Mrs. Billington, who was just to her professionalrivals, said she regarded Mara's execution as superior to her own ingenuine effect, though not in compass and complication. If the rapidvocalization of a singer was praised, Mara would significantly ask, "Canshe sing six plain notes?"

As time passed, Mme. Mara's voice began to decline, and in 1802 shetook advantage of an annoying controversy to bid farewell to the Englishpublic; for the artist who could sing solemn music with such thrillingeffect had the temper of a shrew, though it was easily placated. Mrs. Billington generously offered her services to assist at her farewellconcert; and Mara, bursting into tears, threw her arms about the neckof the greatest of her professional rivals. She did not sing again inEngland till 1820. Speaking of this event, Kelly says, "It was trulygrievous to see such transcendent talents as she once possessed so sunk, so fallen. I used every effort in my power to prevent her committingherself, but in vain. "

"When the incomparable Mme. Mara took leave of me on her return to theContinent, " says Dr. Kitchener, "I could not help expressing my regretthat she had not taken my advice to publish those songs of Handel (hermatchless performance of which gained her that undisputed preeminencewhich she enjoyed), with the embellishments, etc. , with which sheenriched them. This inimitable singer replied, 'Indeed, my good friend, you attribute my success to a very different source than the real one. It was not what I did, but the manner in which I did it. I could singsix simple notes and produce every effect I could wish; another singermay sing those very same notes with very different effect. I am sureit was to my expression of the words that I owe everything. People haveoften said to me, "Madame Mara, why do you not introduce more prettythings, and passages, and graces in your singing?" I say, "These prettythings are very pretty, to be sure, but the proper expression of thewords and the music is a great deal better. "' This and her extraordinaryindustry were the secrets of her undisputed sovereignty. She told methat when she was encored in a song, which she very often was, on herreturn home she seldom retired to rest without first inventing a newcadence for the next performance of it. Here is an example for youngsingers!"

Mme. Mara continued to sing for many years in different cities ofEurope, though the recollections and traditions of her marvelous primewere more attractive than the then active powers of her voice. But herconsummate art never deserted her, in spite of the fact that her voicebecame more and more a wreck. She appeared in public occasionally tillher seventy-second year, when she retired to Cassel, her birthplace, where she died in 1833, at the age of eighty. 

V. 

Another of Mrs. Billington's most brilliant rivals and contemporarieswas the lovely Giuseppa Grassini, a wayward, indolent, fascinatingbeauty, who had taken France and Italy by storm before she attempted tosubdue the more obdurate and phlegmatic Britons. The daughter of asmall farmer in Lombardy, the charm of her voice and appearance inducedGeneral Belgioso to pay the cost of her musical training, and at the ageof nineteen she sprang into popularity at a bound with her _début_ at LaScala in 1794. In spite of the fact that she was associated with two ofthe greatest Italian singers of the time--Crescentini, one of the lastof the male sopranos, and Marchesi--she became the cynosure of publicadmiration. She was surrounded by homage and flattery sufficient to haveturned a more sedate temperament and wiser head than her own, and hername became mixed with some of the most piquant scandals of the period. 

In spite of ignorance, indolence, and a caprice which she neverattempted to control, Grassini was an exquisite artist; and, though dulland shallow intellectually in all matters apart from her profession, shewas a most beautiful and fascinating woman. She mastered all the gracesof her art, but could never give an intelligent reason for what she did. Her voice, originally a soprano, became under training a contraltoof delicious quality, as well as of great volume and power, though notremarkable for extent. She excelled in the _cantabile_ style, and rarelyattempted ornament, though what she did was always in perfect tasteand proportion. Her dramatic instincts were remarkable, and as aninterpreter of both heroic and the softer passions she speedily acquireda European reputation. Her figure was tall and commanding, her headnoble, her hair and eyes of the deepest black, and her whole appearancea singular union of grace and majesty. 

After the battle of Marengo, the presence of the youthful conquerorof Italy at Milan inspired that capital with a spasm of extraordinarygayety. The finest singers in Italy gathered to do honor to the risingsun of Napoleon's greatness. The French general was fascinated bythe irresistible attractions of the prima donna, and asked for anintroduction. Grassini's coquetry did not let the occasion slip. LasCases has given a sketch of the interview, in which he tells us shereminded Napoleon that she "had made her _début_ precisely during theearly achievements of the General of the Army of Italy. " "I was then, "said she, "in the full luster of my beauty and talent. I fascinatedevery eye and inflamed every heart. The young general alone wasinsensible to my charms, and yet he alone was the object of my wishes. What caprice--what singularity! When I possessed some value, when allItaly was at my feet, and I heroically disdained its admiration forone glance from you, I was unable to obtain it; and now, how strangean alteration! You condescend to notice me now when I am not worththe trouble, and am no longer worthy of you. " Las Cases has not provedhimself the most veracious of chroniclers in more important matters, andwe may be permitted to doubt the truth of this speech as coming from themouth of a woman extraordinarily beautiful and not less vain. But at allevents Grassini accompanied the French general to Paris, ambitious toplay the _rôle_ of Cleopatra to this modern Cæsar. Josephine'sjealousy and dislike proved an obstacle difficult to meet, and this, inconnection with the fact that the French opera did not prove suited toher style, made her first residence in Paris a short one, in spite ofthe brilliant success of her concerts. One of these was the crowningfeature of the grand _fête_ given at the Invalides Church in honor ofthe battle of Marengo; and as Grassini sang before the bronzed veteransof the Italian campaign she seemed inspired. Circumstances, however, obliged her to leave France, laden with magnificent presents fromNapoleon. 

In November, 1801, the Italian prima donna was in Berlin, where sheannounced concerts which seem never to have taken place. In 1802 shereturned to France, and Napoleon made her directress of the Opera in1804. At first Josephine had permitted her to appear at her privateconcerts at the Tuileries, but she did not detest the beautiful singerless cordially than heretofore. It was whispered that the cantatricedid in reality seek to attract the attention of Napoleon, and that sheturned her eyes fixedly toward the throne of the Dictator. 

"I hear, madame, that our Grassini is a favorite with the greatNapoleon, " said Count Sommaglia to Josephine one morning. "Yes, "answered the irate wife of the First Consul, hardly-able to disguise herspite, "the ridiculous vanity of the creature amuses us amazingly. Since she has been made directress of the Italian Opera, there is moreintriguing going on among these gentry than there is with the diplomats:in the midst of a serious conversation, she will break out into ahorse-laugh, throw herself on a sofa, and, fancying herself Semiramis onthe 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, " saysFouché, "Bonaparte observed that, considering my acknowledged ability, he was astonished I did not perform my functions better--that therewere several things of which I was ignorant. 'Yes, ' replied I, 'therecertainly are things of which I was ignorant, but which I now knowwell enough. For instance, a little man, muffled in a gray cloak, andaccompanied by a single servant, often steals out on a dark evening froma secret door of the Tuileries, enters a closed carriage, and drives offto Signora G------. This little man is yourself, and yet this fancifulsongstress jilts you continually for Rode the fiddler. ' The Consulanswered not a word; he turned his back, rang, and immediatelywithdrew. "

In 1804 Grassini was engaged to sing in London alternately with Mrs. Billington. At her first benefit she sang in conjunction with theEnglish _diva_ in Winter's new opera, "Il Ratto di Proserpina, "Billington as _Ceres_, and Grassini as _Proserpina_. The respectivevoices of the two singers were admirably fitted for the music of the_rôles_, each exquisite of its sort and inspired by the ambition ofrivalry. The deep tones of the one combined with the bird-like notes ofthe other to produce a most thrilling effect. Lord Mount Edgcumbe, whohad a prejudice for _bravura_ singing, said: "No doubt the deaf wouldhave been charmed with Grassini, but the blind must have been delightedwith Mrs. Billington": a malicious comment on the Italian singer, whichthis distinguished amateur, when in a less cynical mood, revoked bycordial admiration of Grassini's remarkable gifts both as vocalist andactress. Many interesting anecdotes are told of this singer while inLondon, one of which, related by Kelly, then stage-manager, illustratesthe difficulties of operatic management. Mrs. Billington was too sickto sing on one of her own nights, and Grassini was implored to take herplace. But she obstinately refused to make the change, until the cunningIrishman resorted to a trick. He called on her in the morning, and begantalking carelessly on the subject. "My dear Grassini, " said he, in anoff-hand way, "as manager I ought to prevail upon you to perform; but asa performer myself, I enter entirely into your feelings, and think youperfectly right not to sing out of your turn. The Saturday is yours; butwhat I say to you I trust you will not repeat to Mr. Goold, as it mightbe of serious injury to me. " "Depend upon it, my dear Kelly, " answeredGrassini, "I will not; I look upon you, by what you have just said, tobe my sincere friend. " As he was leaving the room, he turned, as witha sudden thought. "To be sure, it is rather unlucky you do not singto-night, for this morning a message came from the Lord Chamberlain'soffice to announce the Queen's intention to come _incognita_, accompanied by the princesses, purposely to see you perform; and a large_grillée_ is actually ordered to be prepared for them, where they canperfectly see and hear without being seen by the audience; but I'll stepmyself to the Lord Chamberlain's office, say that you are confined toyour bed, and express your mortification at disappointing the royalparty. " "Stop, Kelly, " cried the cantatrice, all in a flutter; "what younow say alters the case. If her Majesty Queen Charlotte wishes to see'La Vergine del Sole, ' and to hear me, I am bound to obey her Majesty'scommands. Go to Goold and say I _will_ sing. " "When I went into herdressing-room after the first act, " says Kelly, "her Majesty not havingarrived, Grassini, suspicious that I had made up a trick to cajole her, taxed me with it; and when I confessed, she took it good-naturedly andlaughed at her own credulity. " The popularity of Grassini in Londonremained unabated during several seasons; and when she reengaged forthe French opera, in 1808, it was to the great regret of musical London. Talma was a warm admirer of her dramatic genius, and he used to say thatno other actress, not even Mars, Darval, or Duchesnois, possessed soexpressive and mutable a face. The Grecian outline of her face, herbeautiful forehead, rich black hair and eyebrows, superb dark eyes, "nowflashing with tragedy's fiery passions, then softly languishing withlove, " and finally "that astonishing _ensemble_ of perfections whichNature had collected in her as if to review all her gifts in onewoman--all these qualities together exercised on the spectator sucha charm as none could resist. Pasta herself might have looked on andlearned, when Grassini had to portray either indignation, grief, anger, or despair. "

Her performance in "Romeo e Giulietta" was so fine that Napoleonsprang to his feet, forgetting his marble coldness, and shouted like aschool-boy, while Talma's eyes streamed with tears; for, as the latterafterward confessed, he had never before been so deeply touched. Napoleon sent her a check for twenty thousand francs as a testimonial ofhis admiration, and to Crescentini he sent the order of the Iron Cross. Many years after, in St. Helena, the dethroned Cæsar alluded to this asan illustration of his policy. "In conformity with my system, " observedhe, "of amalgamating all kinds of merit, and of rendering one and thesame reward universal, I had an idea of presenting the Cross ofthe Legion of Honor to Talma; but I refrained from doing this, inconsideration of our capricious manners and absurd prejudices. Iwished to make a first experiment in an affair that was out of date andunimportant, and I accordingly gave the Iron Crown to Crescentini. The decoration was foreign, and so was the individual on whom it wasconferred. This circumstance was less likely to attract public notice orto render my conduct the subject of discussion; at worst, it could onlygive rise to a few malicious jokes. Such, " continued the Emperor, "isthe influence of public opinion. I distributed scepters at will, andthousands readily bowed beneath their sway; and yet I could not giveaway a ribbon without the chance of incurring disapprobation, for Ibelieve my experiment with regard to Crescentini proved unsuccessful. ""It did, sire, " observed some one present. "The circumstance occasioneda great outcry in Paris; it drew forth a general anathema in allthe drawing-rooms of the metropolis, and afforded full scope for theexpression of malignant feeling. However, at one of the evening partiesof the Faubourg St. Germain, a _bon mot_ had the effect of completelystemming the current of indignation. A pompous orator was holdingforth in an eloquent strain on the subject of the honor that had beenconferred on Crescentini. He declared it to be a disgrace, a horror, aperfect profanation, and inquired by what right Crescentini was entitledto such a distinction. Mme. Grassini, who was present, rose majesticallyfrom her chair, with a theatrical tone and gesture exclaiming, 'Et sablessure, monsieur?' This produced a general burst of laughter, amidwhich Grassini sat down, embarrassed by her own success. "

Mme. Grassini remained on the stage till about 1823 when, having lostthe beauty of her voice, she retired to private life with a comfortablefortune, spending her last years in Paris. She died in 1850, in hereighty-fifth year, preserving her beauty and freshness in a marvelousdegree. The effect of Grassini's singing on people of refined taste waseven greater than the impression made on regular musicians. Thomas DeQuincey speaks of her in his "Autobiographical Sketches" as having avoice delightful beyond all that he had ever heard. Sir Charles Bellthought it was "only Grassini who conveyed the idea of the united powerof music and action. She did not act only without being ridiculous, butwith an effect equal to Mrs. Siddons. The 'O Dio' of Mrs. Billington wasa bar of music, but in the strange, almost unnatural voice of Grassini, it went to the soul. " Elsewhere he speaks of "her dignity, truth, andaffecting simplicity. "

VI. 

About the time of Mara's departure from England Mrs. Billington waswonderfully popular. No fashionable concert was complete without her, and the constant demand for her services enabled her to fix her ownprice. Her income averaged fifteen thousand pounds a year, and at onetime she was reckoned as worth nearly one hundred thousand pounds. Shespent her large means with a judicious liberality, and the greatestpeople in the land were glad to be her guests. She settled a liberalannuity on her father. Having no children, she adopted two, one thedaughter of an old friend named Madocks, who afterward became herprincipal legatee. Her hospitality crowded her house with the mostbrilliant men in art, literature, and politics; and it was said that thestranger who would see all the great people of the London world broughttogether should get a card to one of Billington's receptions. Heraffability and kindness sometimes got her into scrapes. An eminentbarrister who was at her house one night gave her some advice on alegal matter, and sent in a bill for services amounting to three hundredpounds. Mrs. Billington paid it promptly, but the lawyer ceased to beher guest. As a hostess she was said to have been irresistibly charming, alike from her personal beauty and the witchery of her manners. 

Her kindness and good nature in dealing with her sister artists Avereproverbial. When Grassini, who at first was unpopular in England, wasin despair as to how she should make an impression, Mrs. Billingtonproposed to sing with her in Winter's opera of "Il Ratto di Proserpina, "from which time dated the success of the Italian singer. Toward Marashe had exerted similar good will, ignoring all professional jealousies. Miss Parke, a concert-singer, was once angry because Billington's namewas in bigger type. The latter ordered her name to be printed in thesmallest letters used; "and much Miss Parke gained by her corpulenttype, " says the narrator. Lord Mount Edgcumbe tells us that the operasin which she specially excelled were "La Clemenza di Scipione, " composedfor her by John Christian Bach; Paesiello's "Elfrida"; "Armida, ""Castore e Polluce, " and others by Winter; and Mozart's "Clemenza diTito. " For her farewell benefit, when she quitted the stage, March 30, 1806, she selected the last-named opera, which had never been given inEngland, and existed only in manuscript form. The Prince of Wales hadthe only copy, and she played through the whole score on the pianoforteat rehearsal, to give the orchestra an idea of the music. The finalperformance was immensely successful, and the departing _diva_ sang sosplendidly as to prove that it was not on account of failing powers thatshe withdrew from professional life. It is true that Mrs. Billingtoncontinued to appear frequently in concert for three years longer, buther dramatic career was ended. A curious instance of woman's infatuationwas Mrs. Billington's longing to be reunited to her brutal husband; andso in 1817 she invited him to join her in England. Felican was tooglad to gain fresh control over the victim of his conjugal tyranny, andpersuaded her to leave England for a permanent residence in Italy. Mrs. Billington realized all her property, and with her jewels and plate, of which she possessed a great quantity, departed for the land of song, taking with her Miss Madocks. She paid a bitter penalty for her revivedtenderness toward Felican, for the ruffian subjected her to suchtreatment that she died from the effects of it, August 25, 1818. In suchan ignoble fashion one of the most brilliant and beautiful women in thehistory of song departed from this life. 

ANGELICA CATALANI. 

The Girlhood of Catalani. --She makes her _Début_ inFlorence. --Description of her Marvelous Vocalism. --The Romance of Loveand Marriage. --Her Preference for the Concert Stage. --She meets Napoleonin Paris. --Her Escape from France and Appearance in London. --Opinionsof Lord Mount Edgcumbe and other Critics. --Anecdotes of herself andHusband. --The Great Prima Donna's Character. --Her Gradual Divergencefrom Good Taste in singing. --_Bon Mots_ of the Wits of the Day. --TheOpera-house Riot. --Her Husband's Avarice. --Grand Concert Tour throughEurope. --She meets Goethe. --Her Return to England and BrilliantReception. --She sings with the Tenor Braham. --John Braham' s ArtisticCareer. --The Davides. --Catalani's Last English Appearance, and theOpinions of Critics. --Her Retirement and Death. 

About the year 1790 the convent of Santa Lucia at Gubbio, in the duchyof Urbino, was the subject of a queer kind of scandal. Complaint wasmade to the bishop that one of the novices sang with such extraordinarybrilliancy and beauty of voice that throngs gathered to the chapel frommiles around, and that the religious services were transformed into asort of theatrical entertainment» so entranced were all hearers by thecharm of the singing, and so forgetful of the religious purport of theseoccasions in the fascination of the music. His Reverence ordered thelady abbess to abate the scandal; so the young Angelica Catalani wasno longer permitted to sing alone, but only in concert with the othernovices. Her voice at the age of twelve, when she began to sing, alreadypossessed a volume, compass, and sweetness which made her a phenomenon. The young girl, who had been destined for conventual life, studied sohard that she became ill, and her father, a magistrate of Sinigaglia, was obliged to take her home. Signor Catalani was a man of bigotedpiety, and it was with great difficulty that he could be induced toforego the plan which he had arranged for Angelica's future. The ideaof her going on the stage was repulsive to him, and only his straitenedcircumstances wrung from him a reluctant consent that she should abandonthe thought of the convent and become a singer. From a teacher andcomposer of some reputation the young girl received preliminaryinstruction for two years, and from the hands of this master passed intothose of the celebrated Marchesi, who had succeeded Porpora as chief ofthe teaching _maestri_. This virtuoso had himself been a distinguishedsinger, and his finishing lessons placed Angelica in a position torank with the most brilliant vocalists of the age. It was somewhatunfortunate that she did not learn under Marchesi, who taught her whenher voice was in the most plastic condition, to control that profuseluxuriance of vocalization which was alike the greatest glory andgreatest defect in her art. 

While studying, Angelica went to hear a celebrated cantatrice of theday, and wept at the vanishing strains. "Alas!" she said with sorrowing_naivete_. "I shall never be able to sing like that. " The kind primadonna heard the lamentation and asked her to sing; whereupon she said, "Be reassured, my child; in a few years you will surpass me, and Ishall weep at your superiority. " At the age of sixteen she succeeded ingetting an engagement at La Fenice in Venice to sing in Mayer's opera of"Lodoiska" during the Carnival season. Carus, the director, accepted herin despair at the very last moment on account of the sudden death ofhis prima donna. What were his surprise and delight in finding that the_debutante_ was the loveliest who had come forward for years, andthe possessor of an almost unparalleled voice. Of tall and majesticpresence, a dazzling complexion, large beautiful blue eyes, and featuresof ideal symmetry, she was one to entrance the eye as well as the ear. Her face was so flexible as to express each shade of feeling from graveto gay with equal facility; and indeed all the personal characteristicsof this extraordinary woman were such as Nature could only have bestowedin her most lavish mood. Her voice was a soprano of the purest quality, embracing a compass of nearly three octaves, from G to F, and sopowerful that no band could overwhelm its tones, which thrilled throughevery fiber of the hearer. Full, rich, and magnificent beyond any othervoice ever heard, "it bore no resemblance, " said one writer, "to anyinstrument, except we could imagine the tone of musical glasses to bemagnified in volume to the same gradation of power. " She could ascendat will--though she was ignorant of the rules of art--from the smallestperceptible sound to the loudest and most magnificent crescendo, exactlyas she pleased. One of her favorite caprices of ornament was to imitatethe swell and fall of a bell, making her tones sweep through the airwith the most delicious undulation, and, using her voice at pleasure, she would shower her graces in an absolutely wasteful profusion. Hergreatest defect was that, while the ear was bewildered with the beautyand tremendous power of her voice, the feelings were untouched: shenever touched the heart. She could not, like Mara, thrill, nor, likeBillington, captivate her hearers by a birdlike softness and brilliancy;she simply astonished. "She was a florid singer, and nothing but aflorid singer, whether grave or airy, in the church, orchestra, orupon the stage. " With a prodigious volume and richness of tone, and amarvelous rapidity of vocalization, she could execute brilliantly themost florid notation, leaving her audience in breathless amazement; buther intonation was very uncertain. However, this did not trouble hermuch. 

In the season of 1798 she sang at Leghorn with Crivelli, Marchesi, andMrs. Billington, and thence she made a triumphal tour through Italy. From the first she had met with an unequaled success. Her full, powerful, clear tones, her delivery so pure and true, her instinctiveexecution of the most difficult music, carried all before her. Withoutmuch art or method, that superb voice, capable by nature of all thethings which the most of even gifted singers are obliged to learn byhard work and long experience, was sufficient for the most daring feats. The Prince Regent of Portugal, attracted by her fame, engaged her, withCrescentini and Mme. Gafforini, for the Italian opera at Lisbon, whereshe arrived in the year 1804. 

The romance of Catalani's life connects itself, not with those escapadeswhich furnish the most piquant tidbits for the gossip-monger, but withher marriage, which occurred at Lisbon. Throughout her long career nobreath of scandal touched the character of this extraordinary artist. Her private and domestic life was as exemplary as her public career wasdazzling. One night, as Angelica was singing on the stage, her eyesmet those of a handsome man in full French uniform, and especiallydistinguished by the diamond aigrette in his cap, who sat in full sightin one of the boxes. When she went off the stage she found the militarystranger in the greenroom, waiting for an introduction. This was M. DeVallebrègue, captain in the Eighth Hussars and _attache_ of theFrench embassy, who in after years received his highest recognition ofdistinction as the husband of the chief of living singers. They wereboth in the full flush of youth and beauty, and they fell passionatelyin love with each other at first sight. When the lover asked SignorCatalani's consent, the latter frowned on the scheme, for the goldenharvest was too rich to be yielded up lightly for the asking. He coldlyrefused, and bade the suitor think of his love as hopeless, thoughhe found no objection to M. Vallebrègue personally. Poor Angelicawas thoroughly wretched, and day after day pined for her youngsoldier-lover, who had been forbidden the house by the father. Forseveral days she was in such dejection that she could not sing, andthe romance became the talk of Lisbon. One day an anonymous letterwas received by Papa Catalani charging M. Vallebrègue with being aproscribed man, who had committed some mysterious crime vaguely hintedat. Armed with this, her father sought to reason Angelica out ofher passion; but she clung to her lover with more eagerness, and wasrewarded, to her great joy, by learning that the crime was only havingfought a duel with and severely wounded his superior officer--an offenseagainst discipline, which had been punished by temporary relief frommilitary duty and a pleasant exile to Lisbon. The young beautywept, sighed, pouted, and could be persuaded to sing only with muchdifficulty. All day long she said with deep mournfulness, "_Ma che beluffiziale_" and pined with genuine heart-sickness. At last Vallebrèguesmuggled a letter to his discouraged mistress, in which he said inardent words that no one had a right to separate them, and urged herto lend all her energies to her professional work, so that, being afavorite at court, she might induce the Prince to intercede in thematter. Angelica tried in vain to get an interview with the Prince, andfound that he was at his country villa twenty miles away. Her accustomedenergy was equal to the difficult. Calling a coach, she drove out to theroyal villa. Trembling with emotion and fatigue, she threw herself atthe feet of the good-natured Prince, whom she found in the garden, andtold her story as soon as her timidity could find words. He could hardlyresist the temptation to badinage which the lively Angelica had hithertobeen so ready to meet with brilliant repartee, but the anxious girlcould only weep and plead. It was such a genuine love romance thatthe Prince's heart was touched, and, after some argument and advice toreturn to her father, he yielded and gave his sanction to the match. Heaccompanied the now radiant Angelica back to Lisbon, and in an hour'stime a ceremony in the court chapel made her Madame de Vallebrègue, in presence of General Lannes, the French envoy, and himself. SignorCatalani was enraged at the turn which things had taken, but he couldonly acquiesce in the inevitable, especially as his daughter and herhusband settled on him a country estate in Italy and a comfortableannuity for life. 

Mme. Catalani returned to Italy with a reputation which made her namethe first in everybody's mouth. Yet at this time her appearance onthe dramatic stage always occasioned a feeling of pain, her excessivetimidity and nervousness made her action spasmodic, and deprived herof that easy dignity which must be united with passion and sentiment toproduce a good artistic personation. It was in concert that her grandvoice at this period shone at its best. Her intimate friends were wontto say that it was as disagreeable and agitating for her to sing inopera, as it was delightful in the concert-room; for here she pouredforth her notes with such a genuine ecstasy in her own performance asthat which seems to thrill the skylark or the nightingale. Though thecircumstances of her marriage were of such a romantic kind, and sheseems to have been deeply attached to her husband through life, M. Valle-brègue appears to have been a stupid, ignorant soldier, and, as iscommon with those who make similar matrimonial speculations, to have hadno eyes beyond helping his talented wife to make all the money possibleand spend it with the utmost freedom afterward. Mme. Catalani made abrief visit to Paris in the spring of 1806, sang twice at St. Cloud, andgave three public concerts, each of which produced twenty-four thousandfrancs, the price being doubled for these occasions. 

Napoleon was always anxious to make Paris the center of European art, and to assemble within its borders all the attractions of the civilizedworld. He spared no temptation to induce the Italian cantatrice toremain. When she attended his commands at the Tuileries she trembledlike a leaf before the stern tyrant, under whose gracious demeanor shedetected the workings of an unbending purpose. "Où allez vous, madame?"said he, smilingly. "To London, sire, " was the reply. "Remain in Paris. I will pay you well, and your talents will be appreciated. You shallreceive a hundred thousand francs per annum, and two months for _congé_. So that is settled. Adieu, madame. " Such was the brusque and imperiousinterview, which seemed to fix the fate of the artist. But Mme. Catalani, anxious to get to London, to which she looked as a richharvest-field, and regarding the grim Napoleon as the foe of thelegitimate King, was determined not to stay. "When at Paris I wasdenied a passport, " she afterward said; "however, I got introducedto Talleyrand, and, by the aid of a handful of gold, I was put intoa government boat, and ordered to lie down to avoid being shot; andwonderful to relate, I got over in safety, with my little boy sevenmonths old. "

II. 

Catalani had already signed a contract with Goold and Taylor, themanagers of the King's Theatre, Haymarket, at a salary of two thousandpounds a month and her expenses, besides various other emoluments. Atthe time of her arrival there was no competitor for the public favor, Grassini and Mrs. Billington having both retired from the stage a shorttime previously. Lord Mount Edgcumbe tells us: "The great and far-famedCatalani supplied the place of both, and for many years reigned alone;for she would bear no rival, nor any singer sufficiently good to dividethe applause. It is well known, " he says, "that her voice is of a mostuncommon quality; and capable of bearing exertions almost superhuman. Her throat seems endowed (as is remarked by medical men) with a power ofexpansion and muscular motion by no means usual; and when she throwsout all her voice to the utmost, it has a volume and strength quitesurprising; while its agility in divisions running up and down the scalein semi-tones, and its compass in jumping over two octaves at once, areequally astonishing. It were to be wished that she was less lavish inthe display of these wonderful powers, and sought to please more thanto surprise; but her taste is vicious, her excessive love of ornamentspoiling every simple air, and her greatest delight being in songs ofa bold and spirited character, where much is left to her discretion orindiscretion, without being confined by the accompaniment, but inwhich she can indulge in _ad libitum_ passages with a luxurianceand redundance no other singer ever possessed, or if possessing everpracticed, and which she carries to a fantastical excess. "

Her London _début_ was on the 15th of December, 1806, in Portogallo'sopera of "La Semi-ramide, " composed for the occasion. The music ofthis work was of the most ephemeral nature, but Catalani's magnificentsinging and acting gave it a heroic dignity. She lavished all theresources of her art on it. In one passage she dropped a double octave, and finally sealed her reputation "by running up and down the chromaticscale for the first time in the recollection of opera-goers. . . . It wasthen new, although it has since been repeated to satiety, and evennoted down as an _obbligato_ division by Rossini, Meyerbeer, and others. Rounds of applause rewarded this daring exhibition of bad taste. " Shehad one peculiar effect, which it is said has never been equaled. Thiswas an undulating tone like that of a musical glass, the vibrating notebeing higher than the highest note on the pianoforte. "She appearedto make a sort of preparation previous to its utterance, and neverapproached it by the regular scale. It began with an inconceivably finetone, which gradually swelled both in volume and power, till it made theears vibrate and the heart thrill. It particularly resembled the highestnote of the nightingale, that is reiterated each time more intensely, and which with a sort of ventriloquism seems scarcely to proceed fromthe same bird that a moment before poured his delicate warblings at aninterval so disjointed. "

There are many racy anecdotes related of Catalani's London career, to which the stupid, avaricious, but good-natured character of M. Vallebrègue lent much of their flavor. Speaking of Mrs. Salmon'ssinging, he said with vehemence, "Mrs. Salmon, sare, she is as that, "extending the little finger of his left hand and placing his thumb atthe root of it; "but ma femme! Voilà! she is that"--stretching out hiswhole arm at full length and touching the shoulder-joint with the other. His stupidity extended to an utter ignorance of music, which he onlyprized as the means of gaining the large sums which his extravagancecraved. His wife once complained of the piano, saying, "I can notpossibly sing to that piano; I shall crack my voice: the piano isabsurdly high. " "Do not fret, my dear, " interposed the husband, soothingly; "it shall be lowered before evening: I will attend toit myself. " Evening came, and the house was crowded; but, to theconsternation of the cantatrice, the pianoforte was as high as ever. Shesang, but the strain was excessive and painful; and she went behind thescenes in a very bad humor. "Really, my dear, " said her lord, "I can notconceive of the piano being too high; I had the carpenter in with hissaw, and made him take six inches off each leg in my presence!"

When she made her engagement for the second season, M. Vallebroguedemanded such exorbitant terms that the manager tore his hair withvexation, saying that such a salary to one singer would actually disablehim from employing any other artists of talent. "Talent!" repeated thehusband; "have you not Mme. Cata-lani? What would you have? If youwant an opera company, my wife with four or five puppets is quitesufficient. " So, during the season of 1808, Catalani actually wasthe whole company, the other performers being literally puppets. Sheappeared chiefly in operas composed expressly for her, in which the partfor the prima donna was carefully adapted to the display of hervarious powers. In "Semiramide" particularly she made an extraordinaryimpression, as it afforded room for the finest tragic action; andthe music, trivial as it was, gave full scope for the extraordinaryperfection of her voice. She also appeared in comic operas, and inPaesiello's "La Frascatana" particularly delighted the public by thegraceful lightness and gayety of her comedy. But in them as in tragediesshe stood alone and furnished the sole attraction. Her astonishingdexterity seemed rather the result of the natural aptitude of geniusthan of study and labor, and her most brilliant ornaments more thefanciful improvisations of the moment than the roulades of the composer. Of her elocution in singing it is said: "She was articulate, forcible, and powerful; occasionally light, pleasing, and playful, but neverawfully grand or tenderly touching to the degree that the art may becarried. " Her marvelous strains seemed to distant auditors poured forthwith the fluent ease of a bird; but those who were near saw that herefforts were so great as to "call into full and violent action themuscular powers of the head, throat, and chest. " In the execution ofrapid passages the under jaw was in a continual state of agitation, "in a manner, too, generally thought incompatible with the production ofpure tone from the chest, and inconsistent with a legitimate execution. This extreme motion was also visible during the shake, which Catalaniused sparingly, however, and with little effect. "

In spite of the reputation for rapacity which the avarice and arroganceof her husband helped to create, Catalani won golden opinions by hersweet temper, liberality, and benevolence. Her purse-strings were alwaysopened to relieve want or encourage struggling merit. Her gayety andlight-heartedness were proverbial. It is recorded that at Bangor onceshe heard for the first time the strains of a Welsh harp, the playerbeing a poor blind itinerant. The music sounding in the kitchen of theinn filled the world-renowned singer with an almost infantile glee, and, rushing in among the pots and pans, she danced as madly as if she hadbeen bitten by the tarantula, till, all panting and breathless, shethrew the harper two guineas, and said she had never heard anythingwhich gave her more delight. The claims on her purse kept pace with theenormous gains which seemed to increase from year to year. To her largecharities and her extravagant habits of living, her husband added theheavy losses to which his passion for the gaming table led him. It wassaid in after years that Mme. Catalani should have been worth not lessthan half a million sterling, so immense had been her gains. Mr. Waters, in a pamphlet published in 1807, says that her receipts from all sourcesfor that year had been nearly seventeen thousand pounds. She frequentlywas paid two hundred pounds for singing "Rule Britannia, " a song inwhich she became celebrated; and one thousand pounds was the usual_honorarium_ given for her services at a festival. 

Mme. Catalani, in addition to her operatic performances, frequently sangat the Ancient Concerts and in oratorio; but she lacked the devotionalpathos and tenderness which had given Mara and Mrs. Billington theirpower in sacred music. Yet she possessed strong religious sentiments, and always prayed before entering a theatre. Her somewhat ostentatiouspiety provoked the following scandalous anecdote: She was observedreading a prayer from her missal prior to going before the audience onenight, and some one, taking the book from the attendant, found it to bea copy of Metastasio. This story is probably apocryphal, however, likemany of the most amusing incidents related of artists and authors. Certain it is that Catalani never shone in oratorio, or even in therendering of dramatic pathos; but in bold and brilliant music the worldhas probably never seen her peer. To some the immense volume of hervoice was not pleasant. Queen Charlotte criticised it by wishing for alittle cotton to put in her ears. Some wit, being asked if he wouldgo to York to hear her, replied he could hear better where he was. "Whenever I hear such an outrageous display of execution, " said LordMount Edgcumbe, in his "Musical Reminiscences, " "I never fail torecollect and cordially join in the opinion of a late noble statesman, more famous for his wit than for his love of music, who, hearing aremark on the extreme difficulty of some performance, observed that hewished it was impossible. " It was this same nobleman, Lord North, whoperpetrated the following _mot_: Being asked why he did not subscribeto the Ancient Concerts, and reminded that his brother, the Bishop ofWinchester, had done so, he said, "Oh, if I was as deaf as the goodBishop, I would subscribe too. "

During the period of her operatic career in England, Catalaniillustrated the works of a wide variety of composers, both serious andcomic; for her dramatic talents were equal to both, and there was nomusic which she did not master as if by inspiration, though she was sucha bad reader that to learn a part perfectly she was obliged to hear itplayed on the piano. It was with great unwillingness that she essayedthe music of Mozart, however, who had just become a great favorite inEngland. The strict time, the severe form, and the importance of theaccompaniments were not suited to her splendid and luxuriant style, which disdained all trammels and rules. Yet she was the first singer whointroduced "Le Nozze di Figaro" to the English stage. Besides _Susanna_in "Le Nozze, " she appeared as _Vitellia_ in "La Clemenza di Tito, " aserious _rôle_; and both in acting and singing these interpretationswere praised by the most intelligent connoisseurs--who had previouslyattacked the vicious redundancy of her style severely--as nearlymatchless. Arch and piquant as the waiting-woman, lofty, impassioned, and haughty as the patrician dame of old Rome, she rendered each asif her sole talent were in the one direction. Tremmazani, a delightfultenor, who had just arrived in England, and possessed a voice of thatrich, touching Cremona tone so rare even in Italy, it may be remarkedin passing, refused the part of Count Almaviva as lacking sufficientimportance, and because he regarded it as beneath his dignity to appearin comic opera. 

III. 

The year 1813 was the last season of Catalani's regular engagement onthe operatic stage. She continued to sing in "Tito" and "Figaro, "but her principal pleasure was in the most extravagant and bizarreshow-pieces, such, for example, as variations composed for the violinon popular airs like "God save the King, " "Rule Britannia, " "Cease yourFunning. " She carried her departure from the true limits of art to suchan outrageous degree as to draw on her head the severest reprobation ofall good judges, though the public listened to her wonderful executionwith unbounded delight and astonishment. Toward the latter part of theseason an extraordinary riot took place in consequence of Catalani'sfailure to appear two successive evenings. The managers were in arrears, and the _diva_ by the advice of her husband adopted this plan toforce payment. There were mutterings of the thunder on the firstnon-appearance; but when on the following night Catalani was stillabsent, the storm broke. The opera which had been substituted was halffinished when the clamor drowned all the artistic noise behind thefootlights. A military guard who had been called in to protect the stagefrom invasion were overpowered by a throng of gentlemen who leaped onfrom the auditorium, many of them men of high rank, and the guns andbayonets wrested from the soldiers' hands. Bloodshed seemed imminent;and had it not been for the moderation of the soldiers, who permittedthemselves to be disarmed rather than fire, the result would havebeen very serious. The chandeliers and mirrors were all broken intoa thousand pieces, and the musical instruments hurled around in thewildest confusion. Fiddles, flutes, horns, drums, swords, bayonets, muskets, operatic costumes, and stage properties generally were hurledin a heap on the stage. The gentlemen Mohocks, who signalized themselveson this occasion, did damage to the amount of nearly one thousandpounds, though it is said they made it up to the manager afterward bysubscription. The theatre was closed for a week; and when it reopened, so great was the magnificent Italian's power over the audience that, though they came prepared to condemn, they received her with the loudestdemonstration of applause. But still such conduct toward audiences, iffollowed up, could not but beget dissatisfaction and wrangling, and thegrowing impatience of her managers as well as the more judicious publiccould not be mistaken. 

In spite of the fact that several brilliant singers were in England, andof the desire of the public that the splendid talents of Catalani shouldbe appropriately supported, her jealousy and her exorbitant claimsprevented such a desirable combination. She offered to buy the theatreand thus become sole proprietor, sole manager, and sole performer;but, of course, the proposition was refused, luckily for the enragedcantatrice, who would certainly have paid dearly for her experiment. 

Catalani on closing her English engagement proceeded to Paris. She hadbeen known as an ardent friend of the Bourbon exiles, and so, during theoccupation of Paris by the Allies in 1814, she found herself in greatfavor. After the Hundred Days had passed and the royal house seemed tobe firmly seated, she received a government subvention of one hundredand sixty thousand francs and the privilege of the Opera. Catalani'spassion for absorbing everything within the radius of her own vanity andher jealousy of rivals operated against her success in Paris, as theyhad injured her in London; and she was obliged to yield up her privilegein the course of three years, with the additional loss of five hundredthousand francs of her own private fortune, and the loss of good will onthe part of the Paris public. 

Her grand concert tour through Europe, undertaken with the purpose ofrepairing her losses, was one of the most interesting portions of herlife. Everywhere she was received with abounding enthusiasm, and theconcerts were so thronged that there was rarely ever standing-room. Shesang in nearly every important city on the Continent, was the object ofthe most flattering attention everywhere, and was loaded down withthe costliest presents, jewels, medals, and testimonials, everywhere. Sovereigns vied with each other in showing their admiration by gorgeousofferings, and her arrival in a city was looked on as a gala-day. Inthe midst, however, of these the most trying circumstances in whicha beautiful and captivating woman could be placed, surrounded bytemptation and flattery, her course was marked by undeviating propriety, and not the faintest breath tarnished her fair fame. Such an idol ofpopular admiration would be sure to exhibit an overweening vanity. Whenin Hamburg in 1819, M. Schevenke, a great musician, criticised her vocalfeats with severity. Mme. Catalani shrugged her beautiful shoulders andcalled him "an impious man. " "For, " said she, "when God has given to amortal so extraordinary a talent as I possess, people ought to applaudand honor it as a miracle; it is profane to depreciate the gifts ofHeaven. "

It was during this tour that she met the poet Goethe at the court ofWeimar, where she was made an honored guest, as she had been treatedeverywhere in royal and princely circles. At a court dinner-party whereshe was present, the great German poet was as usual the cynosure of thecompany. His imperial and splendid presence and world-wide fame markedhim out from all others. Catalani was struck by the appearance of thismodern Olympian god, and asked who he was. To a mind innocent ofall culture except such as touched her art merely, the name "Goethe"conveyed but little significance. "Pray, on what instrument does heplay?" "He is no performer, madame--he is the renowned author of'Werter. '" "Oh yes, yes, I remember, " she said; then turning to thevenerable poet, she addressed him in her vivacious manner. "Ah! sir, what an admirer I am of 'Werter!'" Flattered by her evident sincerityand ardor, the poet bowed profoundly. "I never, " continued she, in thesame lively strain, "I never read anything half so laughable in allmy life. What a capital farce it is, sir!" The poet, astounded, couldscarcely believe the evidence of his ears. "'The Sorrows of Werter' afarce!" he murmured faintly. "Oh yes, never was anything so exquisitelyridiculous, " rejoined Catalani, with a ringing burst of laughter. Itturned out that she had been talking all the while of a ridiculousparody of "Werter" which had been performed at one of the vaudevilletheatres of Paris, in which the sentimentality of Goethe's tale had beenmost savagely ridiculed. We can fancy what Goethe's mortification was, and how the fair _diva's_ credit was impaired at the court of Weimar byher ignorance of the illustrious poet and of the novel whose fame hadrung through all Europe. 

Mme. Catalani returned to England in 1821, and found herself the subjectof an enthusiasm little less than that which had greeted her in herearlier prime. Her concert tour extended through all the cities ofthe British kingdom. In this tour she was supported by the great tenorBraham, as remarkable a singer in some respects as Catalani herself, andprobably the most finished artist of English birth who ever ornamentedthe lyric stage. Braham had been brilliantly associated with the lyrictriumphs of Mara, Billington, and Grassini, and had been welcomed inItaly itself as one of the finest singers in the world. When Catalani'sdramatic career in England commenced Braham had supported her, thoughher jealousy soon rid her of so brilliant a competitor for the publicplaudits. Braham's part in Catalani's English concert tour was a veryimportant one, and some cynical wags professed to believe that as manywent to hear the great tenor as to listen to Catalani. 

The electrical effect of her singing was very well shown at one of theseconcerts. She introduced a song, "Delia Superba Roma, " declamatory inits nature, written for her by Marquis Sampieri. The younger Linley, brother-in-law of Sheridan, who was playing in the orchestra, was somoved that he forgot his own part, and on receiving a severe whisperedrebuke from the singer fainted away in his place. Mme. Catalani returnedagain on finishing her English engagement to Russia, where she realizedfifteen thousand guineas in four months. Concert-rooms were too smallto hold her audiences, and she was obliged to use the great hall of thePublic Exchange, which would hold more than four thousand people. At herlast concert the Emperor and Empress loaded her with costly gifts, amongthem being a girdle of magnificent diamonds. 

IV. 

The career of John Braham must always be of interest to those who lovethe traditions of English music. The associate and contemporary of ahost of distinguished singers, and himself not least, his connectionwith the musical life of Cata-lani would seem to make some brief sketchof the greatest of English tenor-singers singularly fitting in thisplace. He was born in London in 1773, of Jewish parentage, his real namebeing Abrams, and was so wretchedly poor that he sold pencils on thestreet to get a scanty living. Leoni, an Italian teacher of repute, discovered by accident that he had a fine voice, and took the friendlesslad under his tutelage. He appeared at the age of thirteen at the CoventGarden Theatre, the song "The Soldier tired of War's Alarms" being thefirst he sang in public. One of the papers spoke of him as a youthfulprodigy, saying, "He promises fair to attain every perfection, possessing every requisite necessary to form a good singer. " Braham atone time lost his voice utterly, and his prospect seemed a gloomyone, as his master Leoni also died about the same time. He now found agenerous patron in Abraham Goldsmith, however, and became a professor ofthe piano, for which instrument he developed remarkable talent. 

An Italian master named Rauzzini seems to have been of great service toBraham when he was about twenty years of age, and under him he fittedhimself for the Italian stage, and secured an opening under Storace, father of the brilliant Nancy Storace, at Drury Lane. His success wasso marked that the following season found him reengaged and hisprofessional life well opened to him. Braham's ambition, however, would not permit him to rest on his laurels, or rest contented with theartistic fitness already acquired. He determined to find in Italy thatfinishing culture which then as now made that country the Mecca ofartists anxious to perfect their education. He visited Florence, Genoa, Milan, Naples, and Rome, studying under the most famous masters. Notcontent with his training in executive music, Braham studied compositionand counterpoint under Isola, and laid the foundation for the knowledgewhich afterward gave him a place among notable English composers as wellas singers. 

While in England Braham had shown proof s of a transcendent talent. Hissinging both in oratorio and opera was of such a stamp as to place himin the van with the most accomplished Italian singers. With the addedfinish of method which he gained by his Italian studies, he made a mostfavorable impression in the various cities when he sang in Italy, andhis name was freely quoted as being one of the very greatest livingsingers. The elder Davide, whose reputation at that time had no equal, even Crescentini being placed second to him, said on hearing him sing, "There are only two singers in the world, I and the Englishman. " Brahamhad one great advantage over his rivals in this, that his knowledge ofthe science of music in all its most abstruse difficulties was thorough. Skillful adept as he was in all the refinements of executive technique, his profound musical grasp and insight made all difficulties ofinterpretation perfect child's-play. Our readers will recall anillustration of Braham's readiness and quickness of resource in theanecdote of him told in connection with Mrs. Billington's life. 

Refusing the most flattering offers from Italian impressarii, who wereeager to retain him for a while in Italy, Braham returned to England in1801, and for the most part during a number of years devoted himself toEnglish opera. Though he had approved himself a brilliant master in theItalian school, his taste and talents also peculiarly fitted him--likeSims Reeves, who seems to have taken Braham for a model--for thesimple and affecting ballad-music with which English opera is socharacteristically marked. His only appearances in Italian opera inEngland after his return were in the seasons of 1804, 1805, 1800, and1816. These seasons were marked by the performance of the fine operasof Winter, of some of the masterpieces of Cimarosa, and by the firstintroduction into England of the music of Mozart, the "Clemenza diTito, " in which Mrs. Billington and Braham appeared, having been theearliest acquaintance of the English public with the greatest of theGerman operatic composers. The production of this opera was at thesuggestion of George IV. , then Prince of Wales, who had a manuscriptscore of the work, with instrumental parts, sent to him as a gift by thegreat Haydn several years before, as a memorial of the kindness shown bythe Prince to the composer of the "Creation, " when in London conductingthe celebrated Salaman symphonic concerts. The characters of _Vittellia_and _Cesto_ were splendidly performed by the two singers; but theItalian part of the company did not perform the difficult and exactingmusic _con amore_, neither were the audiences of that day trained upto the appreciation of the glorious music of Mozart which has obtainedsince that time. 

Braham's career as a singer of English opera is that with which hisglory in art is chiefly associated. His first appearance was in asomewhat feeble work called the "Chains of the Heart, " and this wassucceeded by the "Cabinet, " a production in which Braham composed allthe music of his own part, both solo and the concerted portions in whichhe had to appear--a custom which he continued for a number of years. Seldom has music been more popular than that in which Braham appeared, for he knew how to suit all the subtile qualities of his own voice. Among the more celebrated operas in which he appeared, now unknownexcept by tradition, may be mentioned "Family Quarrels, " "ThirtyThousand, " "English Fleet, " "Out of Place, " "False Alarms, " "Kars, or Love in a Desert, " and "Devil's Bridge. " As Braham grew older heattained a prodigious reputation, never before equaled in England. Intheatre, concert-room, and church he had scarcely a rival; and whetherin singing a simple ballad, in oratorio, or in the grandest dramaticmusic, the largeness and nobility of his style were matched by a voicewhich in its prime was almost peerless. His compass extended overnineteen notes, and his falsetto from D to A was so perfect that it wasdifficult to tell where the natural voice ended. When Weber composed hisopera "Oberon" for the English stage in 1826, Braham was the original_Sir Huon_. 

Braham had made a large fortune by his genius and industry, thecopyright on the many beautiful ballads and songs which he contributedto the musical treasures of the language amounting alone to a handsomecompetence. But, following the example of so many great artists, heaspired to be manager also. In conjunction with Yates, in 1831 hepurchased the Colosseum in Regent's Park for forty thousand pounds, andfive years afterward he spent twenty-six thousand pounds in buildingthe St. James's theatre. These speculations were unfortunate, and Brahamfound himself compelled to renew his professional exertions at a periodwhen musical artists generally think of retiring from the stage. He madea concert and operatic tour in America in 1840, and it was while playingwith him in "Guy Manner-ing" that Charlotte Cushman, who then performedsinging parts, conceived the remarkable _rôle_ of _Meg Merrlies_, whichshe made one of the most picturesque and vivid memories of the stage. Francis Wemyss, in his "Theatrical Biography, " refers to Braham'sappearance at the National Theatre, Philadelphia: "Who that heard'Jephthall's Rash Vow' could ever forget the volume of voice whichissued from that diminutive frame, or the ecstasy with which 'Wafther, angels, through the skies' thrilled every nerve of the attentivelistener? He ought to have visited the United States twenty yearssooner, or not have risked his reputation by coming at all. LikeIncledon, he was only heard by Americans when his powers of voice wereso impaired as to leave them to conjecture what he had been, and mournthe wreck that all had once admired. " Such an impression as this seemsto have been common with the American public--an experience afterward inrecent years repeated in the last visit of the once great Mario. 

In private life Braham was much admired, and was always received inthe most conservative and fastidious circles. As a man of culture, ahumorist, and a raconteur, he was the life of society; and he will beremembered as the composer who has left more popular songs, duets, etc. , than almost any other English musician. He died in 1856, after living tosee his daughter Lady Walde-grave, and one of the most brilliant leadersof London high life. 

The Davides, father and son, also belonged to the Catalani period, theelder having sung with her in Italy, and the younger in after years bothin opera and concert. Giacomo Davide, the elder, whose prime was between1770 and 1800, was pronounced by Lord Mount Edgecumbe the first tenor ofhis time, possessing a powerful and well-toned voice, great execution aswell as knowledge of music, and an excellent style of singing. His sonGiovanni, who became better known than himself, was his pupil. Thoughsinging with a faulty method, Giovanni Davide had a voice of suchmagnificent compass and quality as to produce with it the mostelectrical effects. M. Edouard Bertin gives an interesting accountof him in a letter from Venice dated 1823: "Davide excites among thedilletanti of this town an enthusiasm and delight which can hardlybe conceived without having been witnessed. He is a singer of the newschool, full of mannerism, affectation, and display, abusing likeMartin his magnificent voice with its prodigious compass (three octavescomprised between four B flats). He crushes the principal motive ofan air beneath the luxuriance of his ornamentation, which has no othermerit than that of a difficulty conquered. But he is also a singer fullof warmth, _verve_, expression, energy, and musical sentiment. Alonehe can fill up and give life to a scene: it is impossible for anothersinger to carry away an audience as he does, and when he will only besimple he is admirable. He is the Rossini of song. He is the greatestsinger I ever heard. Doubtless the way in which Garcia* plays and singsthe part of _Otello_ is preferable, taking it all together, to that ofDavide; it is pure, more severe, more constantly dramatic; but with allhis faults Davide produces more effect, a great deal more effect. There is something in him, I can not say what, which, even when he isridiculous, entrances attention. He never leaves you cold, and when hedoes not move he astonishes you. In a word, before hearing him, I didnot know what the power of singing really was. The enthusiasm he excitesis without limit. "

 * The father of Mlle. Mulibran and Viardot-Garcia. 

This remarkable singer died in St. Petersburg in 1851, being thenmanager of an Imperial Opera in that city of enthusiastic music-lovers. 

V. 

In 1824 Mme. Catalani again filled an engagement in England, making herreappearance in Mayer's comic _pasticcio_, "Il Fanatico per la Mu-sica, "the airs of which had been expressly selected for the display of hervocal _tours de force_. Crowded audiences again welcomed her whomabsence had made an idol dearer than ever, and her transcendent power asa singer seemed to have rise even beyond the old pitch in her electrical_bravura_ style of execution. Yet some critics thought they detectedtokens of the destroying hand of time. One critic spoke of the"fragrance" of her tone as having evaporated. Another compared hervoice to a pianoforte the hammers of which had grown hard by use. Inher appearance she had become even more beautiful than ever, with someslight accession of _embonpoint_, and was conceded to be the handsomestwoman in Europe. For a while her popularity was unbounded among allclasses, and probably no singer that ever lived rode on a higher waveof public adoration. But the critics began to be very much dissatisfiedwith the vicious uses to which she put her magnificent voice. In Paristhe wags had called her _l'instrument Catalani_. In London they said herstyle had become a caricature of its former grandeur, so exaggerated andaffected had it grown. 

"When she begins one of the interminable roulades up the scale, " saysa writer in "Knight's Quarterly Magazine, " "she gradually raises herbody, which she had before stooped to almost a level with the ground, until, having won her way with a quivering lip and chattering chin tothe very topmost note, she tosses back her head and all its noddingfeathers with an air of triumph; then suddenly falls to a note twooctaves and a half lower with incredible aplomb, and smiles like avictorious Amazon over a conquered enemy. " A throng of flatterers joinedin encouraging her in all her defects. "No sooner does Catalani quitthe orchestra, " says the same writer, "than she is beset by a host offoreign sycophants, who load her with exaggerated praise. I was presentat a scene of this kind in the refreshment-room at Bath, and heardreiterated on all sides, 'Ah! madame, la dernière fois toujours lameilleure!' Thus is poor Mme. Catalani led to strive to excel herselfevery time she sings, until she exposes herself to the ridiculemost probably of those very flatterers; for I have heard that onthe Continent she is mimicked by a man dressed in female attire, who represents, by extravagant terms and gestures, Mme. Catalani_surpassing_ herself. " Occasionally, however, she showed that her geniushad not forsaken her. Her singing of Luther's Hymn is thus described byan appreciative listener: "She admits in this grandly simple compositionno ornament whatever but a pure shake at the conclusion. The majesty ofher sustained tones, so rich, so ample as not only to fill but overflowthe cathedral where I heard her, the solemnity of her manner, and theSt. Cecilia-like expression of her raised eyes and rapt countenance, produced a thrilling effect through the united medium of sight andhearing. Whoever has heard Catalani sing this, accompanied by Schmidton the trumpet, has heard the utmost that music can do. Then in thesucceeding chorus, when the same awful words, 'The trumpet sounds; thegraves restore the dead which they contained before, ' are repeated bythe whole choral strength, her voice, piercing through the clang ofinstruments and the burst of other voices, is heard as distinctly as ifit were alone! During the encore I found my way to the top of a tower onthe outside of the cathedral, and could still distinguish her wonderfulvoice. "

A charming incident is told of Mme. Catalani while in Brighton. CaptainMontague, cruising off that port, invited her and some other ladies to a_fête_ on his ship, and the ladies were escorted on board by the Captainin a boat manned by twenty men. The prima donna suddenly burst forthwith her pet song, "Rule Britannia, " singing with electrical fire andthe full power of her magnificent voice. The tars dropped their oars, and tears rolled down their weatherbeaten cheeks, while the Captainsaid: "You see, madame, the effect this favorite air has on these bravemen when sung by the finest voice in the world. I have been in manyvictorious battles, but never felt an excitement equal to this. "

Mme. Catalani retired from the stage in 1831. Young and brilliantrivals, such as Pasta and Son-tag, were rising to contest hersovereignty, and for several years the critics had been dropping prettyplain hints that it would be the most judicious and dignified course. She settled on a magnificent estate near Lake Como, where she livedwith her two eldest children--a son and daughter--the younger son beingabsent on military duty in the French army. This latter afterward becamean equerry to Napoleon III. , and the other children occupied positionsof rank and honor. Mme. Catalani founded a school of gratuitousinstruction for young girls near her beautiful villa, and exacted thatall who graduated from this school should adopt her own name. One, Signora Masilli-Catalani, became quite an eminent singer. Mrs. Trollopetells us something of Catalani's latter days as she visited her inItaly: "Nothing could be more amiable than the reception she gave us. "She expressed a great admiration and love for the English. Her beautywas little injured. "Her eyes and teeth are still magnificent, " saysMrs. Trollope, "and I am told that, when seen in evening full dressby candlelight, no stranger can see her for the first time withoutinquiring who that charming-looking woman is. " Mrs. Trollope hinted toMlle, de Valle-brèque that she would like to hear her mother sing; andin a moment Mme. Catalani was at the piano, smiling at the whisperedrequest from her daughter. "I know not what it was she sang, butscarcely had she permitted her voice to swell into one of those bravurapassages, of which her execution was so very peculiar and so perfectlyunequaled, than I felt as if some magic process was being performedupon me, which took me back again to something--I know not what tocall it--which I had neither heard nor felt for nearly twenty years. Involuntarily, unconsciously, my eyes filled with tears, and I felt asmuch embarrassed as a young lady of fifteen might be who suddenly foundherself in the act of betraying emotions which she was far indeed fromwishing to display. " William Gardiner visited Mme. Catalani in 1846. "Iwas surprised at the vigor of Mme. Catalani, " he says, "and howlittle she was altered since I saw her at Derby in 1828. I paid her acompliment upon her good looks. 'Ah!' said she, 'I am growing old andugly. ' I would not allow it. 'Why, man, ' she said, 'I'm sixty-six!' Shehas lost none of that commanding expression which gave her such dignityon the stage. She is without a wrinkle, and appears to be no more thanforty. Her breadth of chest is still remarkable; it was this whichendowed her with the finest voice that ever sang. Her speaking voice anddramatic air are still charming, and not in the least impaired. "

About the year 1848 Catalani and her family left Italy for fear ofthe cholera, which was then raging, and sought refuge in Paris. Whileresiding there she heard Jenny Lind. One morning, a few days after, theservant announced a strange visitor, who would not give her name. Onbeing ushered in, the timid stranger, who showed a plain but pleasantface, knelt at her feet and said falteringly, "I am Jenny Lind, madame--I am come to ask your blessing. " A few days afterward Catalaniwas stricken with the cholera, which she so much dreaded, and died onJune 12th, at the age of sixty-nine. 

It is not a marvel that the public was captivated with Catalani. Shehad every splendid gift that Nature could lavish--surpassing physicalbeauty, a matchless voice, energy of spirit, sweetness of temper, andwarm affections. Her whole private life was marked by the utmost purityand propriety, and she was the soul of generosity and unselfishness. The many business troubles in which she was involved were caused byher husband's rapacity and narrowness of judgment, and not by her owndisposition to take advantage of the necessities of her managers--acharge her enemies at one time brought against her. 

Her unrivaled endowments (for that taken all in all they were unrivaledis now pretty well acknowledged) ought to have raised her much higherin rank as an artist. Her education even as a singer was extremelysuperficial, and she became an object of universal admiration withoutever knowing anything about music. As she advanced in her career, herwhole ambition seemed to be narrowed down to surprising the world bydisplays of vocal power. As long as these displays would dazzle andastonish, it made little difference how absurd and unmeaning they were. Had she assiduously cultivated the dramatic part of her profession, suchwere the powers of her voice, her sense of the beautiful, her histrionicpassion and energy, her charms of person, that she might have been thegreatest lyric artist that ever lived. Many of the songs she selected asvehicles of display were unsuitable to a female voice. For instance, she would take the martial song for a bass voice, "Non piu Andrai, " in"Figaro, " and overpower by the force and volume of her organ allthe brass instruments of the orchestra. A craving for such sort ofadmiration from unthinking crowds turned her aside from the true path ofher art, where she might have reached the top peak of greatness, and hashanded down her memory a shining beacon rather than as a model to hersuccessors. 

GIUDITTA PASTA. 

Greatness of Genius overcoming Disqualification. --The CharacteristicLesson of Pasta's Life. --Her First Appearance and Failure. --Pastareturns to Italy and devotes herself to Study. --Her First GreatSuccesses in 1819. --Characteristics of her Voice and Singing. --Chorley'sReview of the Impressions made on him by Pasta. --She makes her Triumphal_Début_ in Paris. --Talma on Pasta's Acting. --Her Performances of"Giulietta" and "Tancredi. "--Medea, Pasta's Grandest Impersonation, isgiven to the World. --Description of the Performance. --Enthusiasm of theCritics and the Public. --Introduction of Pasta to the English Public inRossini's "Otello. "--The Impression made in England. --Recognized asthe Greatest Dramatic Prima Donna in the World. --Glances at the SalientFacts of her English Career. --The Performance of "Il Crociato inEgitto. "--She plays the Male _Rôle_ in "Otello. "--Rivalry with Malibranand Sontag. --The Founder of a New School of Singing. --Pasta creates theLeading _Rôles_ in Bellini's "Sonnambula" and "Norma" and Donizetti's"Anna Bolena. "--Decadence and Retirement. 

I. 

As an artist who could transform natural faults into the rarestbeauties, who could make the world forgive the presence of otherdeficiencies which could not thus be glorified by the presence ofgenius, thought, and truth--as one who engraved deeper impressionson the memory of her hearers than any other even in an age of greatsingers--Mme. Pasta must be placed in the very front rank of art. The way by which this gifted woman arrived at her throne was long andtoilsome. Nature had denied her the ninety-nine requisites of thesinger (according to the old Italian adage). Her voice at the origin waslimited, husky, and weak, without charm, without flexibility. Though hercountenance _spoke_, its features were cast in a coarse mold. Her figurewas ungraceful, her movements were awkward. No candidate for musicalsovereignty ever presented herself with what must have appeared a moremeager catalogue of pretensions at the outset of her career. What shebecame let our sketch reveal. 

She was the daughter of a Jewish family named Negri, born at Saronno, near Milan, in the year 1798. The records of her childhood are slight, and beyond the fact that she received her first musical lessons at theCathedral of Como and her latter training at the Milan Conservatory, and that she essayed her feeble wings at second-rate Italian theatresin subordinate parts for the first year, there is but little ofsignificance to relate. In 1816 she sang in the train of the haughtyand peerless Catalani at the Favart in Paris, but did not succeedin attracting attention. But it happened that Ayrton, of the King'sTheatre, London, heard her sing at the house of Paer, the composer, and liked her well enough to engage herself and husband at a moderatesalary. When Pasta's glimmering little light first shone in London, Fodor and Camporese were in the full blaze of their reputation--bothbrilliant singers, but destined to pale into insignificance afterwardbefore the intense splendor of Pasta's perfected genius. One of thenotices of the opening performance at the King's Theatre, when Mme. Camporese sang the leading _rôle_ of Cimarosa's "Penelope, " followed upa lavish eulogium on the prima donna with the contemptuous remark, "Twosubordinate singers named Pasta and Mari came forward in the charactersof _Telamuco_ and _Arsi-noë_, but their musical talent does not requireminute delineation. " There is every reason to believe that Pasta wasopenly flouted both by the critics and the members of her own professionduring her first London experience, but a magnificent revenge was instore for her. Among the parts she sang at this chrysalis period were_Cherubino_ in the "Nozze di Figaro, " _Servilia_ in "La Clemenza diTito, " and the _rôle_ of the pretended shrew in Ferrari's "Il ShaglioFortunato. " Mme. Pasta found herself at the end of the season a direfailure. But she had the searching self-insight which stamps the highestforms of genius, and she determined to correct her faults, and developher great but latent powers. Suddenly she disappeared from the view ofthe operatic world, and buried herself in a retired Italian city, where she studied with intelligent and tireless zeal under M. Scappa, a _maestro_ noted for his power of kindling the material of genius. Occasionally she tested herself in public. An English nobleman who heardher casually at this time said: "Other singers find themselves endowedwith a voice and leave everything to chance. This woman leaves nothingto chance, and her success is therefore certain. " She subjected herselfto a course of severe and incessant study to subdue her voice. Toequalize it was impossible. There was a portion of the scale whichdiffered from the rest in quality, and remained to the last "under aveil, " to use the Italian term. Some of her notes were always out oftime, especially at the beginning of a performance, until the vocalizingmachinery became warmed and mellowed by passion and excitement. Outof these uncouth and rebellious materials she had to compose herinstrument, and then to give it flexibility. Chor-ley, in speaking ofthese difficulties, says: "The volubility and brilliancy, when acquired, gained a character of their own from the resisting peculiarities of herorgan. There were a breadth, an expressiveness in her _roulades_, anevenness and solidity in her shake, which imparted to every passage asignificance beyond the reach of more spontaneous singers. " But, after all, the true secret of her greatness was in the intellect andimagination which lay behind the voice, and made every tone quiver withdramatic sensibility. 

The lyric Siddons of her age was now on the verge of making her real_début_. When she reappeared in Venice, in 1819, she made a greatimpression, which was strengthened by her subsequent performancesin Rome, Milan, and Trieste, during that and the following year. Thefastidious Parisians recognized her power in the autumn of 1821, whenshe sang at the Théâtre Italien; and at Verona, during the Congress of1822, she was received with tremendous enthusiasm. She returned to Paristhe same year, and in the opera of "Romeo e Giulietta" she exhibitedsuch power, both in singing and acting, as to call from the Frenchcritics the most extravagant terms of praise. Mme. Pasta was then layingthe foundation of one of the most dazzling reputations ever gained byprima donna. By sheer industry she had extended the range of her voiceto two octaves and a half--from A above the bass clef note to C flat, and even to D in alt. Her tones had become rich and sweet, except whenshe attempted to force them beyond their limits; her intonation was, however, never quite perfect, being occasionally a little flat. Hersinging was pure and totally divested of all spurious finery; she addedlittle to what was set down by the composer, and that little was notonly in good taste, but had a great deal of originality to recommendit. She possessed deep feeling and correct judgment. Her shake wasmost beautiful; Signor Pacini's well-known cavatina, "Il soave e belcontento"--the peculiar feature of which consisted in the solidity andpower of a sudden shake, contrasted with the detached staccato of thefirst bar--was written for Mme. Pasta. Some of her notes were sharpalmost to harshness, but this defect with the greatness of genius sheovercame, and even converted into a beauty; for in passages of profoundpassion her guttural tones were thrilling. The irregularity of her lowernotes, governed thus by a perfect taste and musical tact, aided to agreat extent in giving that depth of expression which was one ofthe principal charms of her singing; indeed, these lower tones werepeculiarly suited for the utterance of vehement passion, producing anextraordinary effect by the splendid and unexpected contrast which theyenabled her to give to the sweetness of the upper tones, causing akind of musical discordance indescribably pathetic and melancholy. Heraccents were so plaintive, so penetrating, so profoundly tragical, thatno one could resist their influence. 

Her genius as a tragedienne surpassed her talent as a singer. When onthe stage she was no longer Pasta, but Tancredi, Romeo, Desdemona, Medea, or Semiramide. Ebers tells us in his "Seven Years of the King'sTheatre": "Nothing could have been more free from trick or affectationthan Pasta's performance. There is no perceptible effort to resemble acharacter she plays; on the contrary, she enters the stage the characteritself; transposed into the situation, excited by the hopes and fears, breathing the life and spirit of the being she represents. " Mme. Pasta was a slow reader, but she had in perfection the sense for themeasurement and proportion of time, a most essential musical quality. This gave her an instinctive feeling for propriety, which no lessonscould teach; that due recognition of accent and phrase, that absenceof flurry and exaggeration, such as makes the discourse and behavior ofsome people memorable, apart from the value of matter and occasion; thatintelligent composure, without coldness, which impresses and reassuresthose who see and hear. A quotation from a distinguished critic alreadycited gives a vivid idea of Pasta's influence on the most cold andfastidious judges:

"The greatest grace of all, depth and reality of expression, waspossessed by this remarkable artist as few (I suspect) before her--asnone whom I have since admired--have possessed it. The best of heraudience were held in thrall, without being able to analyze what made upthe spell, what produced the effect, so soon as she opened her lips. Her recitative, from the moment she entered, was riveting by its truth. People accustomed to object to the conventionalities of opera (just asloudly as if all drama was not conventional too), forgave the singingand the strange language for the sake of the direct and dignified appealmade by her declamation. Mme. Pasta never changed her readings, hereffects, her ornaments. What was to her true, when once arrived at, remained true for ever. To arrive at what stood with her for truth, shelabored, made experiments, rejected with an elaborate care, the resultof which, in one meaner or more meager, must have been monotony. But theimpression made on me was that of being always subdued and surprised forthe first time. Though I knew what was coming, when the passion brokeout, or when the phrase was sung, it seemed as if they were somethingnew, electrical, immediate. The effect to me is at present, in themoment of writing, as the impression made by the first sight of the sea, by the first snow mountain, by any of those first emotions whichnever entirely pass away. These things are utterly different from thefanaticism of a _laudator temporis acti_. "

When Talma heard her declaim, at the time of her earliest celebrity inParis, he said: "Here is a woman of whom I can still learn. One turn ofher beautiful head, one glance of her eye, one light motion of her hand, is, with her, sufficient to express a passion. She can raise the soulof the spectator to the highest pitch of astonishment and delight by onetone of her voice. 'O Dio!' as it comes from her breast, swelling overher lips, is of indescribable effect. " Poetical and enthusiastic bytemperament, the crowning excellence of her art was a grand simplicity. There was a sublimity in her expressions of vehement passion which wasthe result of measured force, energy which was never wasted, exaltedpathos that never overshot the limits of art. Vigorous without violence, graceful without artifice, she was always greatest when the greatestemergency taxed her powers. 

Pasta's second great part at the Theatre Italien was in Rossini's"Tancredi, " an impersonation which was one of the most enchanting andfinished of her lighter _rôles_. "She looked resplendent in the casqueand cuirass of the Red Cross Knight. No one could ever sing the part of_Tancredi_ like Mine. Pasta: her pure taste enabled her to add grace tothe original composition by elegant and irreproachable ornaments. 'Ditanti palpiti' had been first presented to the Parisians by Mme. Fodor, who covered it with rich and brilliant embroidery, and gave it whatan English critic, Lord Mount Edgcumbe, afterward termed itscountry-dance-like character. Mine. Pasta, on the contrary, infused intothis air its true color and expression, and the effect was ravishing. "

"Tancredi" was quickly followed by "Otello, " and the impassionedspirit, energy, delicacy, and tenderness with which Pasta infused thecharacter of _Desdemona_ furnished the theme for the most lavish praiseson the part of the critics. It was especially in the last act that heracting electrified her audiences. Her transition from hope to terror, from supplication to scorn, culminating in the vehement outburst "_sonoinnocente_, " her last frenzied looks, when, blinded by her disheveledhair and bewildered with her conflicting emotions, she seems to seekfruitlessly the means of flight, were awful. The varied resources of thegreat art of tragedy were consummately drawn forth by her _Desdemona_, in this opera, though she was yet to astonish the world with thatimpersonation imperishably linked with her name in the history of art. "Elisabetta" and "Mosè in Egitto" were also revived for her, and shefilled the leading characters in both with _éclat_. 

II. 

In January, 1824, Mme. Pasta gave to the world what by all concurrentaccounts must have been the grandest lyric impersonation in therecords of art, the character of _Medea_ in Simon May-er's opera. This masterpiece was composed musically and dramatically by the artistherself on the weak foundation of a wretched play and correct butcommonplace music. In a more literal and truthful sense than that inwhich the term is so often travestied by operatic singers, the partwas _created_ by Pasta, reconstructed in form and meaning, as well asinspired by a matchless executive genius. In the language of one writer, whose enthusiasm seems not to have been excessive: "It was a triumph ofhistrionic art, and afforded every opportunity for the display of allthe resources of her genius--the varied powers which had been calledforth and combined in _Medea_, the passionate tenderness of _Romeo_, thespirit and animation of _Tancredi_, the majesty of _Semi-ramide_, themournful beauty of _Nina_, the dignity and sweetness of _Desdemona_. It is difficult to conceive a character more highly dramatic or moreintensely impassioned than that of _Medea_; and in the successive scenesPasta appeared as if torn by the conflict of contending passions, untilat last her anguish rose to sublimity. The conflict of human affectionand supernatural power, the tenderness of the wife, the agonies of themother, and the rage of the woman scorned, were portrayed with a truth, a power, a grandeur of effect unequaled before or since by any actressor singer. Every attitude, each movement and look, became a study for apainter; for in the storm of furious passion the grace and beauty of hergestures were never marred by extravagance. Indeed, her impersonationof _Medea_ was one of the finest illustrations of classic grandeurthe stage has ever presented. In the scene where _Medea_ murders herchildren, the acting of Pasta rose to the sublime. Her self-abandonment, her horror at the contemplation of the deed she is about to perpetrate, the irrepressible affection which comes welling up in her breast, werepictured with a magnificent power, yet with such natural pathos, thatthe agony of the distracted mother was never lost sight of in the furyof the priestess. Folding her arms across her bosom, she contracted herform, as, cowering, she shrunk from the approach of her children; thengrief, love, despair, rage, madness, alternately wrung her heart, untilat last her soul seemed appalled at the crime she contemplated. Starting forward, she pursued the innocent creatures, while the audienceinvoluntarily closed their eyes and recoiled before the harrowingspectacle, which almost elicited a stifled cry of horror. But her finegenius invested the character with that classic dignity and beautywhich, as in the Niobe group, veils the excess of human agony in thedrapery of ideal art. "

Chorley, whose warmth of admiration is always tempered by accurateart-knowledge and the keenest insight, recurs in later years toPas-ta's _Medea_ in these eloquent words: "The air of quiet concentratedvengeance, seeming to fill every fiber of her frame--as though deadlypoison were flowing through her veins--with which she stood alonewrapped in her scarlet mantle, as the bridal procession of _Jason_ and_Creusa_ swept by, is never to be forgotten. It must have been hardfor those on the stage with her to pass that draped statue with foldedarms--that countenance lit up with awful fire, but as still as death andinexorable as doom. Where again has ever been seen an exhibition of artgrander than her _Medea's_ struggle with herself ere she consents tomurder her children?--than her hiding the dagger with its fell purposein her bosom under the strings of her distracted hair?--than of hersteps to and fro as of one drunken with frenzy--torn with the agoniesof natural pity, yet still resolved on her awful triumph? These memoriesare so many possessions to those who have seen them so long as reasonshall last; and their reality is all the more assured to me because Ihave not yet fallen into the old man's habit of denying or doubtingnew sensations. " The Paris public, it need not be said, even moresusceptible to the charm of great acting than that of great singing, were in a frenzy of admiration over this wonderful new picture added tothe portrait-gallery of art. In this performance Pasta had the advantageof absorbing the whole interest of the opera; in her other greatParisian successes she was obliged to share the admiration of the publicwith the tenor Garcia (Malibran's father), the barytone Bordogni, andLevasseur the basso, next to Lablache the greatest of his artistic kind. 

A story is told of a distinguished critic that he persuaded himselfthat, with such power of portraying _Medea's_ emotions, Pasta mustpossess Medea's features. Having been told that the features of theColchian sorceress had been found in the ruins of Herculaneum cut on anantique gem, his fantastic enthusiasm so overcame his judgment thathe took a journey to Italy expressly to inspect this visionary cameo, which, it need not be said, existed only in the imagination of apractical joker. 

In 1824 Pasta made her first English appearance at the King's Theatre, at which was engaged an extraordinary assemblage of talent, MesdamesColbran-Rossini, Catalani, Konzi di Begnis, "Vestris, Caradori, andPasta. The great tragedienne made her first appearance in _Desdemona_, and, as all Europe was ringing with her fame, the curiosity to see andhear her was almost unparalleled. Long before the beginning of the operathe house was packed with an intensely expectant throng. For an Englishaudience, idolizing the memory of Shakespeare, even Rossini's finemusic, conducted by that great composer himself, could hardly underordinary circumstances condone the insult offered to a species ofliterary religion by the wretched stuff pitchforked together and calleda libretto. But the genius of Pasta made them forget even this, andLondon bowed at her feet with as devout a recognition as that offeredby the more fickle Parisians. Her chaste and noble style, untortured bymeretricious ornament, excited the deepest admiration. Count Stendhal, the biographer of Rossini, seems to have heard her for the first time atLondon, and writes of her in the following fashion:

"Moderate in the use of embellishments, Mme. Pasta never employs thembut to heighten the force of the expression; and, what is more, herembellishments last only just so long as they are found to be useful. "In this respect her manner formed a very strong contrast with that ofthe generality of Italian singers at the time, who were more desirous ofcreating astonishment than of giving pleasure. It was not from anylack of technical knowledge and vocal skill that Mme. Pasta avoidedextravagant ornamentation, for in many of the concerted pieces--in whichshe chiefly shone--her execution united clearness and rapidity. "Mme. Pasta is certainly less exuberant in point of ornament, and moreexpressive in point of majesty and simplicity, " observed one critic, "than any of the first-class singers who have visited England for a longperiod. . . . She is also a mistress of art, " continues the same writer, "and, being limited by nature, she makes no extravagant use of herpowers, but employs them with the tact and judgment that can proceedonly from an extraordinary mind. This constitutes her highest praise;for never did intellect and industry become such perfect substitutes fororganic superiority. Notwithstanding her fine vein of imagination andthe beauty of her execution, she cultivates high and deep passions, andis never so great as in the adaptation of art to the purest purposes ofexpression. "

The production of "Tancredi" and of Zingarelli's "Romeo e Giulietta"followed as the vehicles of Pasta's genius for the pleasure of theEnglish public, and the season was closed with "Semiramide, " in whichher regal majesty seemed to embody the ideal conception of the Assyrianqueen. The scene in the first act where the specter of her murderedconsort appears she made so thrilling and impressive that some of theolder opera-goers compared it to the wonderful acting of Garrick in the"ghost-scene" of "Hamlet"; and those when she learns that _Arsace_ isher son, and when she falls by his hand before the tomb of _Ninus_, were recounted in after-years as among the most startling memories ofa lifetime. During her London season Mme. Pasta went much into society, and her exalted fame, united with her amiable manners, made hereverywhere sought after. Immense sums were paid her at private concerts, and her subscription concerts at Almack's were the rage of the town. Heroperatic salary of £14, 000 was nearly doubled by her income from othersources. 

III. 

The following year the management of the King's Theatre again endeavoredto secure Pasta, who had returned to Paris. Before she would finallyconsent she stipulated that the new manager should pay her all thearrears of salary left unsettled by his predecessor, for, in spite ofits artistic excellence, the late season had not proved a pecuniarysuccess. After much negotiation the difficulty was arranged, and Mme. Pasta, binding herself to fill her Parisian engagements at the close ofher leave of absence, received her _congé_ for England. Her reappearancein "Otello" was greeted with fervid applause, and it was decided thather singing had gained in finish and beauty, while her acting was aspowerful as before. It was during this season that Pasta first sang withMalibran. Ronzi di Begnis had lost her voice, Caradori had seceded ina pet, and the manager in despair tried the trembling and inexperienceddaughter of the great Spanish tenor to fill up the gap. She was afailure, as Pasta had been at first in England, but time was to bringher a glorious recompense, as it had done to her elder rival. For thenext two years Pasta sang alternately in London and Paris, and herpopularity on the lyric stage exceeded that of any of the contemporarysingers, for Catalini, whose genius turned in another direction, seemedto care only for the concert room. But some disagreement with Rossinicaused her to leave Paris and spend a year in Italy. During this timeher English reputation stood at its highest point. No one had everappeared on the English stage who commanded such exalted artisticrespect and admiration. Ebers tells us, speaking of her last engagementbefore going to Italy: "At no period of Pasta's career had she beenmore fashionable. She had literally worked her way up to eminence, and, having attained the height, she stood on it firm and secure; noperformer has owed less to caprice or fashion; her reputation has beenearned, and, what is more, deserved. "

On her reappearance in London in 1827 Pasta was engaged for twenty-threenights at a salary of 3, 000 guineas, with a free benefit, which yieldedher 1, 500 guineas more. Her opening performance was that of _Desdemona_, in which Mme. Malibran also appeared during the same season, thusaffording the critics an opportunity for comparison. It was admittedthat the younger diva had the advantage in vocalization and execution, but that Pasta's conception was incontestably superior, and her readingof the part characterized by far greater nobility and grandeur. Thenovelty of the season was Signor Coccia's opera of "Maria Stuarda, "in which Pasta created the part of the beautiful Scottish queen. Herinterpretation possessed an "impassioned dignity, with an eloquence ofvoice, of look, and of action which defies description and challengesthe severest criticism. " It was a piece of acting which great naturalgenius, extensive powers of observation, peculiar sensibility offeeling, and those acquirements of art which are the results of sedulousstudy, combined to make perfect. It is said that Mme. Pasta felt thispart so intensely that, when summoned before the audience at the close, tears could be seen rolling down her cheeks, and her form to tremblewith the scarcely-subsiding swell of agitation. 

During a short Dublin engagement the same year the following incidentoccurred, showing how passionate were her sensibilities in real life aswell as on the stage: One day, while walking with some friends, a raggedchild about three years of age approached and asked charity for herblind mother in such artless and touching accents that the prima donnaburst 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 fromher eyes. "This child demanded charity in a sublime manner. I have seen, at one glance, all the miseries of the mother, the wretchedness of theirhome, the want of clothing, the cold which they suffer. I should indeedbe a great actress if at any time I could find a gesture expressingprofound misery with such truth. "

Pasta's next remarkable impersonation was that of _Armando_ in "IlCrociato in Egitto, " written by Meyerbeer for Signor Velluti, the lastof the race of male sopranos. She had already performed it in Paris, andbeen overwhelmed with abuse by Velluti's partisans, who were enraged tosee their favorite's strong part taken from him by one so much superiorin genius, however inferior in mere executive vocalism. Velluti haddisfigured his performance by introducing a perfect cascade of rouladesand _fiorituri_, but Pasta's delivery of the music, while inspired byher great tragic sensibility, was marked by such breadth and fidelitythat many thought they heard the music for the first time. A ludicrousstory is told of the first performance in London. Pasta had flown to herdressing-room at the end of one of the scenes to change her costume, butthe audience demanding a repetition of the trio with Mme. Caradori andMile. Brambilla, Pasta was obliged to appear, amid shouts of laughter, half Crusader, half Mameluke. 

On the occasion of her benefit the same season, the opera being"Otello, " Mme. Pasta essayed the daring experiment of singing andplaying the _rôle_ of the Moor, Mile. Sontag singing _Desdemona_. Thoughthe transposition of the music from a tenor to a mezzo-soprano voiceinjured the effect of the concerted pieces, the passionate actingredeemed the innovation. In the last act, where she, as _Otello_, seized_Desdemona_ and dragged her by the hair to the bed that she mightstab her, the effect was one of such tragic horror that many left thetheatre. She thus united the most cultivated vocal excellence withdramatic genius of unequaled power. "Mme. Pasta, " said a clever writer, "is in fact the founder of a new school, and after her the possessionof vocal talent alone is insufficient to secure high favor, or to excitethe same degree of interest for any length of time. Even in Italy, wherethe mixture of dramatic with musical science was long neglected, and notappreciated for want of persons equally gifted with both attainments, Mme. Pasta has exhibited to her countrymen the beauty of a school toolong neglected, in such a manner that they will no longer admit thenotion of lyric tragedy being properly spoken without dramatic as wellas vocal qualifications in its representative. " The presence of Malibranand Sontag during this season inspired Pasta to almost superhumanefforts to maintain her threatened supremacy. In her efforts to surpassthese brilliant young rivals in all respects, she laid herself open tocriticism by departing somewhat from the severe and classic school ofdelivery which had always distinguished her, and overloading her singingwith ornament. 

Honors were showered on Pasta in different parts of Europe. She was madefirst court singer in 1829 by the Emperor of Austria, and presented byhim with a superb diadem of rubies and diamonds. At Bologna, where sheperformed in twelve of the Rossinian operas under the _bâton_ of thecomposer himself, a medal was struck in her honor by the Società delCasino, and all the different cities of her native land vied in doinghonor to the greatest of lyric tragediennes. At Milan in 1830 she sangwith Rubini, Galli, Mme. Pisaroni, Lablache, and David. Donizetti atthis time wrote the opera of "Anna Bolena, " with the special viewof suiting the dominant qualities of Pasta, Rubini, and Galli. Thefollowing season Pasta sang at Milan, at a salary of 40, 000 francs fortwenty representations, and was obliged to divide the admiration ofthe public with Mali-bran, who was rapidly rising to the brilliant rankwhich she afterward held against all comers. Vincenzo Bellini now wrotefor Pasta his charming opera of "La Sonnambula, " and it was producedwith Rubini, Mariano, and Mme. Taccani in the cast. Pasta and Rubinisurpassed themselves in the splendor of their performance. "Emulatingeach other in wishing to display the merits of the opera, they wereboth equally successful, " said a critic of the day, "and those whoparticipated in the delight of hearing them will never forget the magiceffect of their execution. But exquisite as were, undoubtedly, Mme. Pasta's vocal exertions, her histrionic powers, if possible, surpassedthem. It would be difficult for those who have seen her represent, inDonizetti's excellent opera, the unfortunate _Amina_, with a grandeurand 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 asimple country girl. But she has proved her powers to be unrivaled;she personates a simple rustic as easily as she identifies herself with_Medea, Semiramide, Tancredi, and Anna Bolena_. "

IV. 

After an absence of three years Mme. Pasta returned to England, andher opening performance of Medea was aided by the talents of Rubini, Lablache, and Fanny Ayton. Rubini performed the character of _Egeus_, and the duets between the king of tenors and Pasta were so remarkablein a musical sense as to rival the dramatic impression made by her greatacting. She was no exception to the rule that very great tragic actorsare rarely devoid of a strong comic individuality. In Erreco's "Provad'un Opera Seria, " an opera caricaturing the rehearsals of a seriousopera at the house of the prima donna and at the theatre, herperformance was so arch, whimsical, playful, and capricious, that itsdrollery kept the audience in a roar of laughter, while Lablache, as"the composer, " seconded her humor by that talent for comedy whichRonconi alone has ever approached. Lablache also appeared with Pasta in"Anna Bolena, " and the great basso, mighty in bulk, mighty in voice, and mighty in genius, fairly startled the public by his extraordinaryresemblance to Holbein's portrait of Henry VIII. 

After singing a farewell engagement in Paris, Mme. Pasta went to Milanto enjoy the last great triumph of her life in 1832 at La Scala. 

She was supported by an admirable company, among whom were Donizettithe tenor and Giulia Grisi, then youthful and inexperienced, but givingpromise of what she became in her splendid prime of beauty and genius. Bellini had written for these artists the opera of "Norma, " and thefirst performance was directed by the composer himself. Pasta's singingand acting alone made the work successful, for at the outset it was notwarmly liked by the public. Several years afterward in London she alsosaved the work from becoming a _fiasco_, the singular fact being that"Norma, " now one of the great standard works of the lyric stage, tooka number of years to establish itself firmly in critical and popularestimation. 

We have now reached a period of Pasta's life where its chronicle becomespainful. It is never pleasant to watch the details of the decadencewhich comes to almost all art-careers. Her warmest admirers could notdeny that Pasta was losing her voice. Her consummate art shone undimmed, but her vocal powers, especially in respect of intonation, displayed thesigns of wear. For several years, indeed, she sang in Paris, Italy, andLondon with great _eclat_, but the indescribable luster of her singinghad lost its bloom and freshness. She continued to receive Continentalhonors, and in 1840, after a splendid season in St. Petersburg, she wasdismissed by the Czar with magnificent presents. In Berlin, about thistime, she was received with the deepest interest and commiseration, forshe lost nearly all her entire fortune by the failure of Engmuller, a banker of Vienna. She filled a long engagement in Berlin, which wasgenerously patronized by the public, not merely out of admiration ofthe talents of the artist, but with the wish of repairing in some smallmeasure her great losses. After 1841 Pasta retired from the stage, spending her winters at Milan, her summers at Lake Como, and devotingherself to training pupils in the higher walks of the lyric art. 

We can not better close this sketch than by giving an account of one ofthe very last public appearances of her life, when she allowed herselfto be seduced into giving a concert in London for the benefit of theItalian cause. Mme. Pasta had long since dismissed all the belongingsof the stage, and her voice, which at its best had required ceaselesswatching and study, had been given up by her. Even her person hadlost all that stately dignity and queenlfness which had made her stageappearance so remarkable. It was altogether a painful and disastrousoccasion. There were artists present who then for the first time wereto get their impression of a great singer, prepared of course to believethat that reputation had been exaggerated. Among these was Rachel, whosat enjoying the humiliation of decayed grandeur with a cynical andbitter sneer on her face, drawing the attention of the theatre by herexhibition of satirical malevolence. 

Malibran's great sister, Mme. Pauline Viardot, was also present, watching with the quick, sympathetic response of a noble heart everyturn of the singer's voice and action. Hoarse, broken, and destroyed aswas the voice, her grand style spoke to the sensibilities of the greatartist. The opera was "Anna Bolena, " and from time to time the oldspirit and fire burned in her tones and gestures. In the final mad scenePasta rallied into something like her former grandeur of acting; and inthe last song with its roulades and its scales of shakes ascending by asemitone, this consummate vocalist and tragedienne, able to combine formwith meaning--dramatic grasp and insight with such musical display asenter into the lyric art--was indicated at least to the apprehensionof the younger artist. "You are right!" was Mme. Viardot's quick andheartfelt response to a friend by her side, while her eyes streamed withtears--"you are right. It is like the 'Cenacolo' of Leonardo da Vinci atMilan, a wreck of a picture, but the picture is the greatest picture inthe world. "

HENRIETTA SONTAG. 

The Greatest German Singer of the Century. --Her Characteristics as anArtist. --Her Childhood and Early Training. --Her Early Appearances inWeimar, Berlin, and Leipsic, --She becomes the Idol of the Public. --HerCharms as a Woman and Romantic Incidents of her Youth. --Becomesaffianced to Count Rossi. --Prejudice against her in Paris, and herVictory over the Public Hostility. --She becomes the Pet of Aristocratic_Salons_. --Rivalry with Malibran. --Her _Début_ in London, where she iswelcomed with Great Enthusiasm. --Returns to Paris. --Anecdotes of herCareer in the French Capital. --She becomes reconciled with Malibran inLondon. --Her Secret Marriage with Count Rossi. --She retires from theStage as the Wife of an Ambassador. --Return to her Profession afterEighteen Years of Absence. --The Wonderful Success of her Youthrenewed. --Her American Tour, --Attacked with Cholera in Mexico and dies. 

I. 

The career of Henrietta Sontag, born at Cob-lenz on the Rhine in 1805, the child of actors, was so picturesque in its chances and changes thathad she not been a beautiful and fascinating woman and the greatestGerman singer of the century, the vicissitudes of her life would havefurnished rich material for a romance. Nature gave her a pure sopranovoice of rare and delicate quality united with incomparable sweetness. Essentially a singer and not a declamatory artist, the sentiment ofgrace was carried to such a height in her art, that it became equivalentto the more robust passion and force which distinguished some of hergreat contemporaries. As years perfected her excellence into its mellowprime, emotion and warmth animated her art work. But at the outset Mile. Sontag did little more than look lovely and pour forth such a floodof silvery and delicious notes, that the Italians called her the"nightingale of the North. " The fanatical enthusiasm of the German youthran into wild excesses, and we hear of a party of university studentsdrinking her health at a joyous supper in champagne out of one of hersatin shoes stolen for the purpose. 

When Mile. Sontag commenced her brilliant career the taste of operaticamateurs was excessively fastidious. Nearly all outside of Germanyshared Frederick the Great's prejudice against German singers. Yet whenshe appeared in Paris, in spite of hostile anticipation, in spite of herreserve, timidity, and coldness on the histrionic side of her art, shesoon made good her place by the side of such remarkable artists asMme. Pasta and Maria Malibran. She never transformed herself intoan impassioned tragedienne, but through the spell of great personalattraction, of an exquisite voice, and of exceptional sensibility, taste, and propriety in her art methods, she advanced herself to a highplace in public favor. 

Her parents designed Henrietta for their own profession, and in hereighth year her voice had acquired such steadiness that she sang minorparts at the theatre. A distinguished traveler relates having heard hersing the grand aria of the _Queen of the Night_ in the "Zauberflote" atthis age, "her arms hanging beside her and her eye following the flightof a butterfly, while her voice, pure, penetrating, and of angelic tone, flowed as unconsciously as a limpid rill from the mountain-side. " Theyear after this Henrietta lost her father, and she went to Prague withher mother, where she played children's parts under Weber, then _chefd'orchestre_. When she had attained the proper age she was admitted tothe Prague Conservatory, and spent four years studying vocalization, thepiano, and the elements of harmony. An accident gave the young singerthe chance for a _début_ in the sudden illness of the prima donna, whowas cast to sing the part of the _Princesse de Navarre_ in Boïeldieu's"Jean de Paris. " The little vocalist of fifteen had to wear heels fourinches high, but she sang none the less well, and the audience seemedto feel that they had heard a prodigy. She also took the part of theheroine in Paer's opera of "Sargino, " and her brilliant success decidedher career, as she was invited to take a position in the Viennese Opera. Here she met the brilliant Mme. Fodor, then singing an engagement in theAustrian capital. So great was this distinguished singer's admiration ofthe young girl's talents that she said, "Had I her voice I should holdthe whole world at my feet. "

Mlle. Sontag had the advantage at this period of singing with greatartists who took much interest in her career and gave her valuable hintsand help. Singing alternately in German and English opera, and always anardent student of music, she learned to unite all the brilliancy ofthe Italian style and method to the solidity of the German school. Thebeautiful young cantatrice was beset with ardent admirers, not the leastimportant being the English Ambassador Earl Clan William. He followedher to theatre, to convents, church, and seemed like her shadow. Sontagin German means Sunday; so the Viennese wits, then as now as wickedand satirical as those of Paris, nicknamed the nobleman Earl Montag, asMonday always follows Sunday. It was during this Vienna engagement thatWeber wrote the opera of "Euryanthe, " and designed the principalpart for Sontag. But the public failed to fancy it, and called it"L'Ennuyante. " The serious part of her art life commenced at Leipsic in1824, where she interpreted the "Freischutz" and "Euryanthe, " then inthe flush of newness, and made a reputation that passed the boundsof Germany, though foreign critics discredited the reports of herexcellence till they heard her. 

"Henrietta's voice was a pure soprano, reaching perhaps from A or B to Din alt, and, though uniform in its quality, it was a little reedy in thelower notes, but its flexibility was marvelous: in the high octave, fromF to C in alt, her notes rang out like the tones of a silver bell. Theclearness of her notes, the precision of her intonation, the fertilityof her invention, and the facility of her execution, were displayed inbrilliant flights and lavish fioriture; her rare flexibility being anatural gift, cultivated by taste and incessant study. It was to theexample of Mme. Fodor that Mile. Sontag was indebted for the bloomingof those dormant qualities which had till then remained undeveloped. Theease with which she sang was perfectly captivating; and the neatness andelegance of her enunciation combined with the sweetness and brilliancyof her voice and her perfect intonation to render her executionfaultless, and its effect ravishing. She appeared to sing with thevolubility of a bird, and to experience the pleasure she imparted. " Touse the language of a critic of that day: "All passages are alike toher, but she has appropriated some that were hitherto believed tobelong to instruments--to the piano-forte and the violin, for instance. Arpeggios and chromatic scales, passages ascending and descending, she executed in the same manner that the ablest performers on theseinstruments execute them. There were the firmness and the neatnessthat appertain to the piano-forte, while she would go through a scale_staccato_ with the precision of the bow. Her great art, however, layin rendering whatever she did pleasing. The ear was never disturbed bya harsh note. The velocity of her passages was sometimes uncontrollable, for it has been observed that in a division, say, of four groups ofquadruplets, she would execute the first in exact time, the second andthird would increase in rapidity so much that in the fourth she wascompelled to decrease the speed perceptibly, in order to give the bandthe means of recovering the time she had gained. "

Mile. Sontag was of middle height, beautifully formed, and had a facebeaming with sensibility, delicacy, and modesty. Beautiful light-brownhair, large blue eyes, finely molded mouth, and perfect teeth completedan _ensemble_ little short of bewitching. Her elegant figure andthe delicacy of her features were matched by hands and feet of suchexquisite proportions that sculptors besought the privilege of modelingthem, and poets raved about them in their verses. Artlessness and_naivete_ were joined with such fine breeding of manner that it seemedas if the blue blood of centuries must have coursed in her veins insteadof the blood of obscure actors, whose only honor was to have givento the world one of the paragons of song. Sontag never aspired to thehigher walks of lyric tragedy, as she knew her own limitation, but inlight and elegant comedy, the _Mosinas_ and _Susannas_, she has neverbeen excelled, whether as actress or singer. It was said of her that shecould render with equal skill the works of Rossini, Mozart, Weber, and Spohr, uniting the originality of her own people with the artisticmethod and facility of the French and Italian schools. From LeipsicMile. Sontag went to Berlin, where the demonstrations of delight whichgreeted her singing rose to fever-heat as the performances continued. Expressions of rapture greeted heron the streets; even the rigidetiquette of the Prussian court gave way to receive the low-born singeras a royal guest, an honor which all the aristocratic houses were promptto emulate. It was at Berlin that Sontag made the acquaintance of CountRossi, a Piedmontese nobleman attached to the Sardinian Legation. Anardent attachment sprang up between them, and they became affianced. 

Not content with her supremacy at home, she sighed for other worlds toconquer, and after two years at Berlin she obtained leave of absencewith great difficulty, and went to Paris. French connoisseurs laughedat the idea of this German barbarian--for some of the critics were rudeenough to use this harsh term--becoming the rival of Pasta, Cinti, and Fodor, and the idea of her singing Rossini's music seemed purelypreposterous. On the 15th of June, 1826, she made her bow to the Frenchpublic. The victory was partly won by the shy, blushing beauty of theyoung German, who seemed the very incarnation of maidenly modesty andinnocence, and when she had finished her first song thunders of applauseshook the house. Her execution of Rode's variations surpassed eventhat of Catalani, and "La Petite Allemande" became an instant favorite. Twenty-three succeeding concerts made Henrietta Sontag an idol of theParis public, which she continued to be during her art career. She alsoappeared with brilliant distinction in opera, the principal ones being"Il Barbiere, " "La Donna del Lago, " and "L'Italiani in Alghieri. " Herbenefit-night was marked by a demonstration on the part of her admirers, and she was crowned on the stage. 

II. 

The beautiful singer became a great pet of the Parisian aristocracy, andwas welcomed in the highest circles, not simply as an artist, but as awoman. She was honored with a state dinner at the Prussian Ambassador's, and the most distinguished people were eager to be presented to her. At the house of Talleyrand, having been introduced to the Duchess vonLothringen, that haughty dame said, "I would not desire that my daughterwere other than you. " It was almost unheard of that a German cantatricewithout social antecedents should be sedulously courted by the mostbrilliant women of rank and fashion, and her presence sought as anornament at the most exclusive _salons_. It was at this time thatCatalani met her and declared, "_Elle est la première de son genre, maisson genre n'est pas le premier_, " and a celebrated flute-player on herbeing introduced to him by a musical professor was accosted with thewords, "_Ecco il tuo rivale_. "

In Paris, as was the case afterward in London, the most romantic storieswere in circulation about the adoration lavished on her by princesand bankers, artists and musicians. The most exalted personages weresupposed to be sighing for her love, and it was reported that no singerhad ever had so many offers of marriage from people of high rank andconsideration. Indeed, it was well known that about the same timeCharles de Beriot, the great violinist, and a nobleman of almostprincely birth, laid their hearts and hands at her feet. Mile. Sontag, it need not be said, was true to her promise to Count Rossi, and refusedall the flattering overtures made her by her admirers. A singularlink connects the careers of Sontag and Malibran personally as well asmusically. It was during the early melancholy and suffering of DeBeriot at Sontag's rejection of his love that he first met Malibran. His profound dejection aroused her sympathy, and she exerted herself tosoothe him and rouse him from his state of languor and lassitude. Theresult can easily be fancied. De Beriot's heart recovered from theshock, and was kindled into a fresh flame by the consolations of thebeautiful and gifted Spanish singer, whence ensued a connection whichwas consummated in marriage as soon as Malibran was able to break theunfortunate tie into which she had been inveigled in America. 

The Parisian managers offered the most extravagant terms to keep thenew favorite of the public, but her heart and duty alike prompted her toreturn to Berlin. On the route, at the different towns where shesang, she was received with brilliant demonstrations of admiration andrespect, and it was said at the time that her return journey on thisoccasion was such a triumphal march as has rarely been vouchsafed toan artist, touching in the spontaneity of its enthusiasm as it wasbrilliant and impressive in its forms. Berlin welcomed her with greatwarmth, and, though Cata-lani herself was among the singers at thetheatre, Sontag fully shared her glory in the German estimation. The King made her first singer at his chapel, at a yearly salary oftwenty-four thousand francs, and rich gifts were showered on her by herhosts of wealthy and ardent admirers. 

She sang again in Paris in 1828, appearing in "La Cenerentola" as anovelty, though the music had to be transposed for her. Malibran wassinging the same season, and a bitter rivalry sprang up between theblonde and serene German beauty and the brilliant Spanish brunette. Itwas whispered afterward, by those who knew Malibran well, that she neverforgave Henrietta Sontag for having been the first to be beloved by DeBeriot. The voices of the two singers differed as much as their persons. The one was distinguished for exquisite sweetness and quality of tone, and perfection of execution, for a polished and graceful correctnesswhich never did anything alien to good taste and made finish of formcompensate for lack of fire. The other's splendid voice was marred byirregularity and unevenness, but possessed a passionate warmth in itsnotes which stirred the hearts of the hearers. Full of extraordinaryexpedients, an audience was always dazzled by some unexpected beautiesof Malibran's performance, and her original and daring conceptions gaveher work a unique character which set her apart from her contemporaries. The Parisian public took pleasure in fomenting the dispute between therival queens of song, and each one was spurred to the utmost by the hotdiscord which raged between them. 

On April 16th of the same year Mile. Sontag made her first appearancebefore the London public in the character of _Mosina_ in Rossini's "IlBarbiere, " a part peculiarly suited to the grace of her style andthe _timbre_ of her voice. One of her biographers thus sketches theexpectations and impressions of the London public:

"Since Mrs. Billington, never had such high promise been made, or somuch expectation excited: her talents had been exaggerated by report, and her beauty and charms extolled as matchless; she was declared topossess all the qualities of every singer in perfection, and as anactress to be the very personification of grace and power. Storiesof the romantic attachments of foreign princes and English lords wereafloat in all directions; she was going to be married to a personage ofthe loftiest rank--to a German prince--to an ambassador; she was pursuedby the ardent love of men of fashion. Among other stories in circulationwas one of a duel between two imaginary rival candidates for a ticketof admission to her performance; but the most affecting and trustworthystory was that of an early attachment between the beautiful Henriettaand a young student of good family, which was broken off in consequenceof his passion for gambling. 

"Mile. Sontag, before she appeared at the opera, sang at the houses ofPrince Esterhazy and the Duke of Devonshire. An immense crowd assembledin front of the theatre on the evening of her _début_ at the opera. Thecrush was dreadful; and when at length the half-stifled crowd managedto find seats, 'shoes were held up in all directions to be owned. ' Theaudience waited in breathless suspense for the rising of the curtain;and when the fair cantatrice appeared, the excited throng could scarcelyrealize that the simple English-looking girl before them was thecelebrated Sontag. On recovering from their astonishment, they applaudedher warmly, and her lightness, brilliancy, volubility, and gracefulmanner made her at once popular. Her style was more florid than thatof any other singer in Europe, not even excepting Catalani, whom sheexcelled in fluency, though not in volume; and it was decided that sheresembled Fodor more than any other singer--which was natural, as shehad in early life imitated that cantatrice. Her taste was so cultivatedthat the redundancy of ornament, especially the obligato passageswhich the part of _Rosina_ presents, never, in her hands, appearedovercharged; and she sang the cavatina 'Una voce poco fà' in a style asnew as it was exquisitely tasteful. 'Two passages, introduced by her inthis air, executed in a _staccato_ manner, could not have been surpassedin perfection by the spirited bow of the finest violin-player. ' In thelesson-scene she gave Rode's variations, and her execution of the secondvariation in arpeggios was pronounced infinitely superior to Catalani's. 

"At first the _cognoscenti_ were haunted by a fear that Sontag wouldpermit herself to degenerate, like Catalani, into a mere imitator ofinstrumental performers, and endeavor to astonish instead of pleasingthe public by executing such things as Rode's variations. But it wassoon observed that, while indulging in almost unlimited, luxurianceof embellishment in singing Rossini's music, she showed herself a goodmusician, and never fell into the fault, common with florid singers, of introducing ornaments at variance with the spirit of the air or theharmony of the accomplishments. In singing the music of Mozart or Weber, she paid the utmost deference to the text, restraining the exuberance ofher fancy, and confining herself within the limits set by thecomposer. Her success was tested by a most substantial proof of herpopularity--her benefit produced the enormous sum of three thousandpounds. "

Laurent, the manager of the Theatre Italien, succeeded in making acontract by which Sontag was to sing in Paris for fifty thousand francsa year, with a _congé_ of three months. It was at this period that shecommenced seriously to study tragic characters, and, though she at firstfailed in making a strong impression on her audiences, her assiduousattention to sentiment and passion wrought such fruits as to provehow far study and good taste may create the effect of something likeinspiration, even on the part of an artist so cool and placid as thegreat German cantatrice. Her efforts were stimulated by the rivalry ofMali-bran, and this contest was the absorbing theme of discussion in theParis salons and journals. It reached such a height that the two singersrefused to meet each other socially, and on the stage when theysang together their jealousy and dislike showed itself in the mostundisguised fashion. Among the incidents related of this interestingoperatic episode, the following are specially worthy of mention: AnItalian connoisseur, who had never heard Sontag, and who firmly believedthat no German could sing, was induced to go one night by a friend toa performance in which she appeared. After listening five minutes hestarted up hastily in act to go. "Stay, " urged his friend; "you will beconvinced presently. " "I know it, " replied the Italian, "and therefore Igo. "

One evening, at the termination of the performance, the two rivalswere called out, and a number of wreaths and bouquets were flung on thestage. Malibran stooped and picked up one of the coronals, supposing itdesigned for her, when a stern voice cried out: "Rendez-la; ce n'est paspour vous!" "I would not deprive Mlle. Sontag of a single wreath, " saidthe haughty Spaniard in a loud voice which could be heard everywherethrough the listening house. "I would sooner bestow one on her!"

This quarrel was afterward made up between them when they were engagedtogether in London the following year, 1828. This reconciliation wasbrought about by M. Fetis, who had accompanied them from Paris. Heproposed to them that they should sing for one of the pieces at aconcert in which they were both engaged, the _duo_ of _Semiramide_ and_Arsace_, in Rossini's opera. For the first time in London their voiceswere heard together. Each outdid herself in the desire to excel, and theexquisite fusion of the two voices, so different in tone and character, was so fine that the hearts of the rivals melted toward each other, andthey professed mutual friendship. The London public got the benefit ofthis amity, for the manager of the King's Theatre was able to produceoperas in which they sang together, among them being "Semiramide, " "DonGiovanni, " "Nozze di Figaro, " and "Romeo e Giulietta"--Malibran playingthe hero in the latter opera. The following year Sontag also sangwith Malibran in London, her greatest success being in _Carolina_, theprincipal character of Cimarosa's "Il Matrimonio Segreto. "

Mile. Sontag was now for the first time assailed by the voice ofcalumny. Her union with Count Rossi, consummated more than a yearbefore, had been kept secret on account of the dislike of his familyto the match. Born in Corsica, Count Rossi was a near relative of thefamily of Napoleon Bonaparte, and his sister was the Princess de Salm. His relations were opposed to his marriage with one whom they considereda plebeian, though she had been ennobled by the Prussian King, underthe name of Von Lauenstein, with a full patent and all the formalitiesobserved on such occasions. Mile. Sontag determined to make a farewelltour through Europe, and retire from the stage. She paid her adieuxto her public in the different great cities of Europe--London, Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg, Moscow, Warsaw, Leipsic, etc. --with incrediblesuccess, and the sums she realized are said to have been enormous. Onreturning from Russia she gave a concert at Hamburg; and it was herethat she took the occasion at a great banquet given her by a wealthymerchant to make the public and formal announcement of her marriage toCount Rossi. It was remarked that during this farewell concert tourher powers, far from having declined, seemed to have gained in compass, brilliancy, and expression. 

Countess Rossi first lived at the Hague, and then for a short time atFrankfort. Here she took precedence of all the ladies of the diplomaticcorps, her husband being Minister Plenipotentiary to the Germanic Diet. In Berlin she was a familiar guest of the royal family, and sang duetsand trios with the princes and princesses. She devoted her leisure hoursto the study of composition, and at the houses of Prince Esterhazy andPrince Metternich, in 1841, at Vienna, she executed a cantata of herown for soprano and chorus with most brilliant success. The Empressherself invited the Countess to repeat it at her own palace with all theimperial family for listeners. Thus courted and flattered, possessedof ample wealth and rank, idolized by her friends and respected by thegreat world, Henrietta Sontag passed nearly twenty swift, happy yearsat the different European capitals to which her husband was successivelyaccredited. 

III. 

Countess Rossi was never entirely forgotten in her brilliant retirement. Her story, gossips said, was intended to be shadowed forth "with adifference" in "L'Ambassadrice" of Scribe and Auber, written for Mme. Cinti Damoreau, whose voice resembled that of Sontag. Travelers, who gotglimpses of the august life wherein she lived, brought home tales of herpopularity, of her beauty not faded but only mellowed by time, and ofher lovely voice, which she had watched and cultivated in her titledleisure. It can be fancied, then, what a thrill of interest and surpriseran through the London public when it was announced in 1848 that theCountess Rossi, owing to family circumstances, was about to resume herprofession. A small, luxuriantly bound book in green and gold, devotedto her former and more recent history, was put on sale in London, andcirculated like wildfire. The situation in London was peculiar. JennyLind had created a furor in that city almost unparalleled in its musicalhistory, and to announce that the "Swedish nightingale" was not thegreatest singer that ever lived or ever could live, before a company ofher admirers, was sufficient to invite personal assault. Mlle. Lind hadjust departed for America. It was an adventure little short of desperatefor a singer to emerge from a retirement of a score of years and measureher musical and dramatic accomplishments against those of a predecessorwhose tantalizing disappearance from the stage had rendered her on somany grounds more than ever the object of fanatical worship. 

The political storm of 1848 had swept away the fortune of CountessRossi, and when she announced her intention of returning to the stage, the director of Her Majesty's Theatre was prompt to make her an offerof seventeen thousand pounds for the season. She had not been idle orcareless during the time when the Grisis, the Persianis, and theLinds were delighting the world with the magic of their art. She hadassiduously kept up the culture of her delicious voice, and steppedagain before the foot-lights with all the ease, steadiness, and _aplomb_of one who had never suffered an interregnum in her lyric reign. Shecame back to the stage under new and trying musical conditions, to anorchestra far stronger than that to which her youth had been accustomed, to a new world of operas. The intrepidity and industry with which shemet these difficulties are deserving of the greatest respect. Not merelydid she go through the entire range of her old parts, _Susanna, Moslna, Desdemona, Donna Anna_, etc. , but she presented herself in a number ofnew works which did not exist at her farewell to the stage--Bellini's"Sonnambula, " Donizetti's "Linda, " "La Figlia del Reggimento, " "DonPasquale, " "Le Tre Nozze" of Alary, and Ilalévy's "La Tempesta";indeed, in the latter two creating the principal _rôles_. Her formercompanions had disappeared. Malibran had been dead for thirteen years, Mme. Pisaroni had also departed from the earthly scene, and a galaxy ofnew stars were glittering in the musical horizon. Giulia Grisi, ClaraNovello, Pauline Viardot, Fanny Per-siani, Jenny Lind, Maretta Alboni, Nantier Didier, Sophie Cruvelli, Catherine Hayes, Louisa Pyne, Duprez, Mario, Ronconi, and others--all these had arisen since the day she hadleft the art world as Countess Rossi. Only the joyous and warmheartedLablache was left of her old comrades to welcome her back to the sceneof her old triumphs. 

Her reappearance as _Linda_, on July 7, 1849, was the occasion of acordial and sympathetic reception on the part of a very brilliantand distinguished audience. The first notes of the "polacca" weresufficient to show that the great artist was in her true placeagain, and that the mature woman had lost but little of the artisticfascinations of the gifted girl. Of course, time had robbed her of oneor two upper notes, but the skill, grace, and precision with which sheutilized every atom of her power, the incomparable steadiness and finishwith which she wrought out the composer's intentions, the marvelousflexibility of her execution, she retained in all their pristineexcellence. The loss of youthful freshness was atoned for by the deeperpassion and feeling which in an indefinable way permeated all herefforts, and gave them a dramatic glow lacking in earlier days. She wasrapturously greeted as a dear friend come back in the later sunny days. In "La Figlia del Reggimento, " which Jenny Lind had brought to Englandand made her own peculiar property, Mme. Sontag was adjudged to be byfar the greater, both vocally and dramatically. As a singer of Mozart'smusic she was incomparably superior to all. Her taste, steadiness, suavity, and solid knowledge suited a style very difficult for asouthern singer to acquire. Chorley repeated the musical opinion ofhis time in saying: "The easy, equable flow demanded by Mozart'scompositions, so melodious, so wondrously sustained, so sentimental(dare I say so rarely impassioned?); that assertion of individualitywhich distinguishes a singer from a machine when dealing with singers'music; that charm which belongs to a keen appreciation of elegance, butwhich can only be perfected when Nature has been genial, have never beenso perfectly combined (in my experience) as in her. " If Sontag did notpossess the highest genius of the lyric artist, she had un-equaled graceand sense of artistic propriety, and with that grace an untiring desireand energy in giving her very best to the public on all occasions whenshe appeared. Her constancy and loyalty to her audience were moralqualities which wonderfully enhanced her value and charm as a singer. 

During this season Mme. Sontag appeared in her favorite character of_Rosina_, with Lablache and Gardoni; she also performed _Amina_ and_Desdemona_. Had it not been that the attention of the public wasabsorbed by "the Swedish Nightingale" and the "glorious Alboni, " Mme. Sontag would have renewed the triumphs of 1828. The next season shesang again at Her Majesty's Theatre as _Norina, Elvira_ ("I Puritani"), _Zerlina_, and _Maria_ (in "La Figlia del Reggimento"). The chiefnovelty was "La Tempestà, " written by Scribe, and composed by Halévyexpressly for Her Majesty's Theatre, the drama having been translatedinto Italian from the French original. It was got up with extraordinarysplendor, and had a considerable run. Mme. Sontag sang charmingly inthe character of _Miranda_; but the greatest effect was created byLablache's magnificent impersonation of _Caliban_. No small share of thesuccess of the piece was due to the famous danseuse Carlotta Grisi, whoseemed to take the most appropriate part ever designed for ballerinawhen she undertook to represent _Ariel_. 

At the close of the season of 1850 Mme. Sontag went to Paris with Mr. Lumley, who took the Théâtre Italien, and she was warmly welcomed byher French audiences. "Even amid the loud applause with which the crowdgreeted her appearance on the stage, " says a French writer, "it was easyto distinguish the respect which was entertained for the virtuous lady, the devoted wife and mother. "

Before her acceptance of the offer to go to America, in 1852, sheappeared in successive engagements at London, Vienna, and Berlin, whereher reception was of the most satisfying nature both to the artist andthe woman. On her arrival in New York, on September 19th, she commenceda series of concerts with Salvi and Signo-ra Blangini. At New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and the larger cities of the South, she quicklyestablished herself as one of the greatest favorites who had ever sungin this country, in spite of the fact that people had hardly recoveredfrom the Lind mania which had swept the country like wildfire, a factapt to provoke petulant comparisons. Her pecuniary returns from herAmerican tour were very great, and she was enabled to buy a château anddomain in Germany, a home which she was unfortunately destined never toenjoy. 

In New Orleans, in 1854, she entered into an engagement with M. Masson, director of opera in the city of Mexico, to sing for a fixed periodof two months, with the privilege of three months longer. This wasthe closing appearance in opera, as she contemplated, for the task ofreinstating her family fortunes was almost done. Fate fulfilled herexpectations with a malign sarcasm; for while her agent, M. Ullman, was absent in Europe gathering a company, Mme. Sontag was seizedwith cholera and died in a few hours, on June 17, 1854. Such was thelamentable end of one of the noblest women that ever adorned thelyric stage. Her funeral was a magnificent one, in presence of a greatconcourse of people, including the diplomatic corps. The service wascelebrated by the orchestras of the two Italian theatres; the nuns ofSt. Francis sang the cantata; the prayer to the Virgin was intoned bythe German Philharmonic Society, who also sang Lindpainter's chorus, "Ne m'oubliez pa "; and the leading Mexican poet, M. Pantaleon Tovar, declaimed a beautiful tribute in sonorous Spanish verse. The body wastaken to Germany and buried in the abbey of Makenstern, in Lausitz. 

THE END.