GREAT SINGERS

MALIBRAN TO TITIENS

SECOND SERIES

BY GEORGE T. FERRIS

NEW YORK

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

1891

Copyright, 1881, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 

NOTE. 

In the preparation of this companion volume of "Great Singers, " thesame limitations of purpose have guided the author as in the case ofthe earlier book, which sketched the lives of the greatest lyric artistsfrom Faustina Bordoni to Henrietta Sontag. It has been impossible toinclude any but those who stand incontestably in the front rank of theoperatic profession, except so far as some account of the lesser lightsis essential to the study of those artistic lives whose names make thecaptions of these sketches. So, too, it has been attempted to embody, inseveral of the articles, intelligent, if not fully adequate, notice ofa few of the greatest men singers, who, if they have not aroused asdeep an enthusiasm as have those of the other sex, are perhaps justlyentitled to as much consideration on art grounds. It will be observedthat the great living vocalists have been excluded from this book, except those who, having definitely retired from the stage, may beconsidered as dead to their art. This plan has been pursued, not fromany undervaluation of the Pattis, the Nilssons, and the Luccas of thepresent musical stage, but because, in obeying that necessity imposed bylimitation of space, it has seemed more desirable to exclude those whoseplace in art is not yet finally settled, rather than those whose namesbelong to history, and who may be seen in full perspective. 

The material from which this little book is compiled has been drawn froma variety of sources, among which may be mentioned the three works ofHenry F. Chorley, "Music and Manners in France and Germany, " "ModernGerman Music, " and "Thirty Years' Musical Kecollections"; SutherlandEdwards's "History of the Opera"; Fetis's "Biographie des Musiciens";Ebers's "Seven Years of the King's Theatre"; Lumley's "Reminiscences";Charles Hervey's "Theatres of Paris"; Arsène Houssaye's "Galeriede Portraits"; Countess de Merlin's "Mémoires de Madame Malibran";Ox-berry's "Dramatic Biography and Histrionic Anecdotes"; Crowest's"Musical Anecdotes" and Mrs. Clayton's "Queens of Song. "

CONTENTS. 

MARIA FELICIA MALIBRAN. 

The Childhood of Maria Garcia. --Her Father's Sternness and SevereDiscipline. --Her First Appearance as an Artist on the OperaticStage. --Her Genius and Power evident from the Beginning. --Anecdotesof her Early Career. --Manuel Garcia's Operatic Enterprise in NewYork. --Maria Garcia is inveigled into marrying M. Malibran. --Failure ofthe Garcia Opera, and Maria's Separation from her Husband. --Shemakes her _Début_ in Paris with Great Success. --Madame Malibran'sCharacteristics as a Singer, a Genius, and a Woman. --Anecdotes of herGenerosity and Kindness. --She sings in a Great London Engagement. --HerEccentric and Daring Methods excite Severe Criticism. --Her RecklessExpenditure of Strength in the Pursuit of her Profession orPleasures. --Madame Malibran's Attachment to De Bériot. --Anecdotes ofher Public and Private Career. --Malibran in Italy, where she becomesthe Popular Idol. --Her Last London Engagement. --Her Death at Manchesterduring the Great Musical Festival

WILHELMINA SCHRÖDER-DEVRIENT. 

Mme. Schröder-Devrient the Daughter of a Woman of Genius. --Her EarlyAppearance on the Dramatic Stage in Connection with her Mother. --Shestudies Music and devotes herself to the Lyric Stage. --Her Operatic_Début_ in Mozart's "Zauberflote. "--Her Appearance and Voice. --Mlle. Schröder makes her _Début_ in her most Celebrated Character, _Fidelio_. --Her own Description of the First Performance. --A WonderfulDramatic Conception. --Henry Chorley's Judgment of her as a Singer andActress. --She marries Carl Devrient at Dresden. --Mme. Schröder-Devrientmakes herself celebrated as a Representative of Weber's RomanticHeroines. --Dissolution of her Marriage. --She makes SuccessfulAppearances in Paris and London in both Italian and GermanOpera. --English Opinions of the German Artist. --Anecdotes of her LondonEngagement. --An Italian Tour and Reëngagements for the Paris and LondonStage. --Different Criticisms of her Artistic Style. --Retirement from theStage, and Second Marriage. --Her Death in 1860, and the Honors paid tothe Memory of her Genius

GIULIA GRISI. 

The Childhood of a Great Artist. --Giulietta Grisi's Early MusicalTraining. --Giuditta Grisi's Pride in the Talents of her YoungSister. --Her Italian _Début_ and Success. --She escapes from a ManagerialTaskmaster and takes Refuge in Paris. --Impression made on FrenchAudiences. --Production of Bellini's "Puritani. "--Appearance before theLondon Public. --Character of Grisi's Singing and Acting. --Anecdotes ofthe Prima Donna. --Marriage of Mlle. Grisi. --Her Connection withOther Distinguished Singers. --Kubini, his Character as an Artist, andIncidents of his Life. --Tamburini, another Member of the First Great"Puritani" Quartet. --Lablache, the King of Operatic Bassos. --His Careeras an Artist. --His Wonderful Genius as Singer and Actor. --Advent ofMario on the Stage. --His Intimate Association with Mme. Grisi asWoman and Artist. --Incidents of Mario's Life and Character asan Artist. --Grisi's Long Hold on the Stage for more than aQuarter-century. --Her American Tour. --Final Retirement from herProfession. --The Elements of her Greatness as a Goddess of Song

PAULINE VIARDOT. 

Vicissitudes of the Garcia Family. --Pauline Viardot's EarlyTraining. --Indications of her Musical Genius. --She becomes a Pupilof Liszt on the Piano. --Pauline Garcia practically self-trained as aVocalist. --Her Remarkable Accomplishments. --Her First Appearance beforethe Public with De Bériot in Concert. --She makes her _Début_ in Londonas _Desdemona_. --Contemporary Opinions of her Powers. --Description ofPauline Garcia's Voice and the Character of her Art. --The Originalityof her Genius. --Pauline Garcia marries M. Viardot, a Well-known_Litterateur_. --A Tour through Southern Europe. --She creates a DistinctPlace for herself in the Musical Art. --Great Enthusiasm in Germanyover her Singing. --The Richness of her Art Resources. --Sketches of theTenors, Nourrit and Duprez, and of the Great Barytone, Ronconi. --Mme. Viardot and the Music of Meyerbeer. --Her Creation of the Part of _Fides_in "Le Prophète, " the Crowning Work of a Great Career. --Retirement fromthe Stage. --High Position in Private Life. --Connection with the FrenchConservatoire

FANNY PERSIANI. 

The Tenor Singer Tacchinardi. --An Exquisite Voice and DeformedPhysique. --Early Talent shown by his Daughter Fanny. --His Aversion toher entering on the Stage Life. --Her Marriage to M. Persiani. --TheIncident which launched Fanny Persiani on the Stage. --Rapid Success as aSinger. --Donizetti writes one of his Great Operas for her. --_Personnel_, Voice, and Artistic Style of Mme. Persiani. --One of the GreatestExecutants who ever lived. --Anecdotes of her Italian Tours. --FirstAppearance in Paris and London. --A Tour through Belgium withRu-bini. --Anecdote of Prince Metternich. --Further Studies of Persiani'sCharacteristics as a Singer. --Donizetti composes Another Opera forher. --Her Prosperous Career and retirement from the Stage. --LastAppearance in Paris for Mario's Benefit

MARIETTA ALBONI. 

The Greatest of Contraltos. --Marietta Alboni's EarlySurroundings. --Rossini's Interest in her Career. --First Appearance onthe Operatic Stage. --Excitement produced in Germany by her Singing. --HerIndependence of Character. --Her Great Success in London. --Descriptionof her Voice and Person. --Concerts in Paris. --The Verdicts of the GreatFrench Critics. --Hector Berlioz on Alboni's Singing. --She appears inOpera in Paris. --Strange Indifference of the Audience quickly turned toEnthusiasm. --She competes favorably in London with Grisi, Persiani, and Viardot. --Takes the Place of Jenny Lind as Prima Donna at HerMajesty's. --She extends her Voice into the Soprano Register. --Performs"Fides" in "Le Prophète. "--Visit to America. --Retires from the Stage

JENNY LIND. 

The Childhood of the "Swedish Nightingale. "--Her First MusicalInstruction. --The Loss and Return of her Voice. --Jenny Lind'sPupilage in Paris under Manuel Garcia. --She makes the Acquaintance ofMeyerbeer. --Great Sue-cess in Stockholm in "Robert le Diable. "--FredrikaBremer and Hans Christian Andersen on the Young Singer. --Her _Début_in Berlin. --Becomes Prima Donna at the Royal Theatre. --Beginning ofthe Lind Enthusiasm that overran Europe. --She appears in Dresden inMeyerbeer's New Opera, "Feldlager in Schliesen. "--Offers throng in fromall the Leading Theatres of Europe. --The Grand _Furore_ in Every Partof Germany. --Description of Scenes in her Musical Progresses. --She makesher _Début_ in London. --Extraordinary Excitement of the English Public, such as had never before been known. --Descriptions of her Singingby Contemporary Critics. --Her Quality as an Actress. --Jenny Lind's_Personnel_. --Scenes and Incidents of the "Lind" Mania. --Her SecondLondon Season. --Her Place and Character as a Lyric Artist. --Mlle. Lind's American Tour. --Extraordinary Enthusiasm in America. --HerLavish Generosity. --She marries Herr Otto Goldschmidt. --Present Life ofRetirement in London. --Jenny Lind as a Public Benefactor

SOPHIE CRUVELLI. 

The Daughter of an Obscure German Pastor. --She studies Music inParis. --Failure of her Voice. --Makes her _Début_ at La Fenice. --Sheappears in London during the Lind Excitement. --Description of herVoice and Person. --A Great Excitement over her Second Appearancein Italy. --_Début_ in Paris. --Her Grand Impersonation in"Fidelio. "--Critical Estimates of her Genius. --Sophie Cruvelli'sEccentricities. --Excitement in Paris over her _Valentine_ in "LesHuguenots. "--Different Performances in London and Paris. --She retiresfrom the Stage and marries Baron Vigier. --Her Professional Status. --Oneof the Most Gifted Women of any Age

THERESA TITIENS. 

Born at Hamburg of an Hungarian Family. --Her Early MusicalTraining. --First Appearance in Opera in "Lucrezia Borgia. "--Romance ofher Youth. --Rapid Extension of her Fame. --Receives a _Congé_ fromVienna to sing in England. --Description of Mlle. Titiens, her Voice, and Artistic Style. --The Characters in which she was speciallyeminent. --Opinions of the Critics. --Her Relative Standing inthe Operatic Profession. --Her Performances of _Semi-ramide_and _Medea_. --Latter Years of her Career. --Her Artistic Tour inAmerica. --Her Death, and Estimate placed on her Genius

GREAT SINGERS, SECOND SERIES, MALIBRAN TO TITIENS. 

MARIA FELICIA MALIBRAN. 

The Childhood of Maria Garcia. --Her Father's Sternness and SevereDiscipline. --Her First Appearance as an Artist on the OperaticStage. --Her Genius and Power evident from the Beginning. --Anecdotesof her Early Career. --Manuel Garcia's Operatic Enterprise in NewYork. --Maria Garcia is inveigled into marrying M. Malibran. --Failure ofthe Garcia Opera, and Maria's Separation from her Husband. --Shemakes her _Début_ in Paris with Great Success. --Madame Malibran'sCharacteristics as a Singer, a Genius, and a Woman. --Anecdotes of herGenerosity and Kindness. --She sings in a Great London Engagement. --HerEccentric and Daring Methods excite Severe Criticism. --Her RecklessExpenditure of Strength in the Pursuit of her Profession orPleasures. --Madame Malibran's Attachment to De Bériot. --Anecdotes ofher Public and Private Career. --Malibran in Italy, where she becomesthe Popular Idol. --Her Last London Engagement. --Her Death at Manchesterduring the Great Musical Festival. 

I. 

With the name of Malibran there is associated an interest, alikepersonal and artistic, rarely equaled and certainly unsurpassed amongthe traditions which make the records of the lyric stage so fascinating. Daring originality stamped her life as a woman, her career as an artist, and the brightness with which her star shone through a brief and stormyhistory had something akin in it to the dazzling but capricious passageof a meteor. If Pasta was the Siddons of the lyric drama, unapproachablein its more severe and tragic phases, Malibran represented its Garrick. Brilliant, creative, and versatile, she sang equally well in all stylesof music, and no strain on her resources seemed to overtax the powerof an artistic imagination which delighted in vanquishing obstacles andtransforming native defects into new beauties, an attribute of geniuswhich she shared in equal degree with Pasta, though it took on adifferent manifestation. 

This great singer belonged to a Spanish family of musicians, who havebeen well characterized as "representative artists, whose power, genius, and originality have impressed a permanent trace on the record of themethods of vocal execution and ornament. " Her father, Manuel VicenteGarcia, at the age of seventeen, was already well known as composer, singer, actor, and conductor. His pieces, short comic operas, had agreat popularity in Spain, and were not only bright and inventive, but marked by thorough musical workmanship. A month after he made his_début_ in Paris, in 1811, he had become the chief singer, and sangfor three years under the operatic _regime_ which shared the generalsplendor of Napoleon's court. He was afterward appointed first tenor atNaples by King Joachim Munit, and there produced his opera of "Califo diBagdad, " which met with great success. It was here that the child Maria, then only five years old, made her first public appearance in one ofPaer's operas, and here that she received her first lessons in musicfrom M. Panseron and the composer Hérold. When Garcia quitted Italyin 1816, he sang with Catalani in Paris, but, as that jealous artistadmitted no bright star near her own, Garcia soon left the troupe, andwent to London in the spring of 1818. He oscillated between the twocountries for several years, and was the first brilliant exponent of theRossinian music in two great capitals, as his training and method werepeculiarly fitted to this school. The indomitable energy and ambitionwhich he transmitted to his daughters, who were to become suchdistinguished ornaments of the stage, were not contented with makingtheir possessor a great executant, for he continued to produce operas, several of which were put on the stage in Paris with notable success. Garcia's name as a teacher commenced about the year 1823 to overshadowhis reputation as a singer. In the one he had rivals, in the other hewas peerless. His school of singing quickly became famous, though hecontinued to appear on the stage, and to pour forth operas of more thanaverage merit. 

The education of his daughter Maria, born at Paris, March 24, 1808, hadalways been a matter of paternal solicitude. A delicate, sensitive, andwillful child, she had been so humored and petted at the convent-schoolof Hammersmith, where she was first placed, that she developed a capriceand a recklessness which made her return to the house of her stern andimperious father doubly painful, lier experience was a severe one, andManuel Garcia was more pitiless to his daughter than to other pupils. Already at this period Maria spoke with ease Spanish, Italian, French, and English, to which she afterward added German. The Garcia householdwas a strange one. The Spanish musician was a tyrant in his home, anda savage temper, which had but few streaks of tenderness, frequentlyvented itself in blows and brutality, in spite of the remarkable musicalfacility with which Maria appropriated teaching, and the brilliant giftswhich would have flattered the pride and softened the sympathies ofa more gentle and complacent parent. The young girl, in spite ofher prodigious instinct for art and her splendid intelligence, had apeculiarly intractable organ. The lower notes of the voice were veryimperfect, the upper tones thin, disagreeable, and hard, the middleveiled, and her intonation so doubtful that it almost indicated animperfect ear. She would sometimes sing so badly that her father wouldquit the piano precipitately and retreat to the farthest corner of thehouse with his fingers thrust into his ears. But Garcia was resolvedthat his daughter should become what Nature seemingly had resolved sheshould not be, a great vocalist, and he bent all the energies of hisharsh and imperious temper to further this result. "One evening Istudied a duet with Maria, " says the Countess Merlin, "in which Garciahad written a passage, and he desired her to execute it. She tried, butbecame discouraged, and said, 'I can not. ' In an instant the Andalu-sianblood of her father rose. He fixed his flashing eyes upon her: 'Whatdid you say?' Maria looked at him, trembled, and, clasping her hands, murmured in a stifled voice, 'I will do it, papa;' and she executed thepassage perfectly. She told me afterward that she could not conceive howshe did it. 'Papa's glance, ' added she, 'has such an influence uponme that I am sure it would make me fling myself from the roof into thestreet without doing myself any harm. '"

Maria Felicia Garcia was a wayward and willful child, but so generousand placable that her fierce outbursts of rage were followed by themost fascinating and winning contrition. Irresistibly charming, frank, fearless, and original, she gave promise, even in her early youth, ofthe remarkable qualities which afterward bestowed such a unique andbrilliant _cachet_ on her genius as an artist and her character as awoman. Her father, with all his harshness, understood her truly, forshe inherited both her faults and her gifts from himself. "Her proud andstubborn spirit requires an iron hand to control it, " he said; "Mariacan never become great except at the price of much suffering. " By thetime she had reached the age of fifteen her voice had greatly improved. Her chest-notes had gained greatly in power, richness, and depth, thoughthe higher register of the vocal organ still remained crude and veiled. Fetis says that it was on account of the sudden indisposition ofMadame Pasta that the first public appearance of Maria in opera wasunexpectedly made, but Lord Mount Edgcumbe and the impressario Ebersboth tell a different story. The former relates in his "Reminiscences"that, shortly after the repair of the King's Theatre, "the greatfavorite Pasta arrived for a limited number of nights. About the sametime Konzi fell ill and totally lost her voice, so that she was obligedto throw up her engagement and return to Italy. Mme. Vestris havingseceded, and Caradori being for some time unable to perform, it becamenecessary to engage a young singer, the daughter of the tenor Garcia, who had sung here for several seasons. . . . Her extreme youth, herprettiness, her pleasing voice, and sprightly, easy action as _Rosina_in 'Il Barbiere, ' in which part she made her _début_, gained her generalfavor. " Chor-ley recalls the impression she made on him at this time inmore precise and emphatic terms: "From the first hour when Maria Garciaappeared on the stage, first in 'Il Barbiere' and subsequently in'Il Crociato, ' it was evident that a new artist, as original asextraordinary, was come--one by nature fairly endowed, not merely withphysical powers, but also with that inventive, energetic, rapid genius, before which obstacles become as nothing, and by the aid of which thesharpest contradictions become reconciled. " She made her _début_ on June7, 1825, and was immediately engaged for the remaining six weeks ofthe season at five hundred pounds. Her first success was followed by asecond in Meyerber's 'Il Crociato, ' in which she sang with Velluti, thelast of that extraordinary _genre_ of artists, the male sopranos. Garciawrote several arias for her voice, which were interpolated in the opera, much to Manager Ayrton's disgust, but much also to the young singer'sadvantage, for the father knew every defect and every beauty of hisdaughter's voice. 

If her father was ambitious and daring, Maria was so likewise. She hadto sing with Velluti a duet in Zingarelli's "Romeo e Giulietta, " and inthe morning they rehearsed it together, Velluti reserving his fioriturefor the evening, lest the young _débutante_ should endeavor to imitatehis ornaments. In the evening he sang his solo part, embroidering itwith the most florid decorations, and finishing with a new and beautifulcadenza, which astonished and charmed the audience; Maria seized thephrases, to which she imparted an additional grace, and crowned hertriumph with an audacious and superb improvisation. Thunders of applausegreeted her, and while trembling with excitement she felt her armgrasped by a hand of iron. "Briccona!" hissed a voice in her ear, asVelluti glared on her, gnashing his teeth with rage. After performingin London, she appeared in the autumn with her father at the Manchester, York, and Liverpool Festivals, where she sang some of the most difficultpieces from the "Messiah" and the "Creation. " Some said that she failed, others that she sang with a degree of mingled brilliancy, delicacy, andsweetness that drew down a storm of applause. 

II. 

Garcia now conceived a project for establishing Italian opera in theUnited States, and with characteristic daring he set sail for Americawith a miserable company, of which the only talent consisted of his ownfamily, comprising himself, his son, daughter, and wife, Mme. Garciahaving been a fairly good artist in her youth. The first opera producedwas "Il Barbiere, " on November 29, 1825, and this was speedilyfollowed by "Tancredi, " "Otello, " "Il Turco in Italia, " "Don Giovanni, ""Cenerentola, " and two operas composed by Garcia himself--"L'AmanteAstuto, " and "La Figlia dell' Aria, " The young singer's success was ofextraordinary character, and New York, unaccustomed to Italian opera, went into an ecstasy of admiration. Maria's charming voice and personalfascination held the public spellbound, and her good nature in theintroduction of English songs, whenever called on by her admirers, raised the delight of the opera-goers of the day to a wild enthusiasm. 

The occurrence of the most unfortunate episode of her life at this timewas the fruitful source of much of the misery and eccentricity of herafter-career. M. François Eugène Malibran, a French merchant, engaged inbusiness in New York, fell passionately in love with the young singer, and speedily laid his heart and fortune, which was supposed to be great, at her feet. In spite of the fact that the suitor was fifty, and Mariaonly seventeen, she was disposed to accept the offer, for she was sickof her father's brutality, and the straits to which she was constantlyput by the exigencies of her dependent situation. Her heart had neveryet awakened to the sweetness of love, and the supposed great fortuneand lavish promises of M. Malibran dazzled her young imagination. Garciasternly refused his consent, and there were many violent scenes betweenfather and daughter. Such was the hostility of feeling between the two, that Maria almost feared for her life. The following incident is anexpressive comment on the condition of her mind at this time: Oneevening she was playing _Des-demona_ to her father's _Othello_, inRossini's opera. At the moment when _Othello_ approaches, his eyessparkling with rage, to stab _Desdemona_, Maria perceived that herfather's dagger was not a stage sham, but a genuine weapon. Frantic withterror, she screamed "Papa, papa, for the love of God, do not kill me!"Her terrors were groundless, for the substitution of the real for atheatrical dagger was a mere accident. The audience knew no difference, as they supposed Maria's Spanish exclamation to be good operaticItalian, and they applauded at the fine dramatic point made by the youngartist!

At last the importunate suitor overcame Gar-cia's opposition by agreeingto give him a hundred thousand francs in payment for the loss of hisdaughter's services, and the sacrifice of the young and beautiful singerwas consummated on March 23, 1826. A few weeks later Malibran was abankrupt and imprisoned for debt, and his bride discovered how she hadbeen cheated and outraged by a cunning scoundrel, who had calculatedon saving himself from poverty by dependence on the stage-earnings ofa brilliant wife. The enraged Garcia, always a man of unbridled temper, was only prevented from transforming one of those scenes of mimictragedy with which he was so familiar, into a criminal reality byassassinating Malibran, through the resolute expostulations of hisfriends. Mme. Malibran instantly resigned for the benefit of herhusband's creditors any claims which she might have made on the remnantsof his estate, and her New York admirers had as much occasion to applaudthe rectitude and honor of the woman as they had had the genius of theartist. Garcia himself, hampered by pecuniary difficulties, set sailfor Mexico with his son and younger daughter, to retrieve his fortunes, while Maria remained in New York, tied to a wretch whom she despised, and who looked on her musical talents as the means of supplying himwith the luxuries of life. Mme. Malibran's energy soon found a vent inEnglish opera, and she made herself as popular on the vernacular as shehad on the Italian stage. But she soon wearied of her hard fate, whichcompelled her to toil without ceasing for the support of the man whohad deceived her vilely, and for whom not one spark of love operated tocondone his faults. Five months utterly snapped her patience, and shedetermined to return to Paris. She arrived there in September, 1826, and took up her abode with M. Malibran's sister. Although she had becomeisolated from all her old friends, she found in one of the companions ofher days of pupilage, the Countess Merlin, a most affectionate help andcounselor, who spared no effort to make her talents known to the musicalworld of Paris, Mme. De Merlin sounded the praises of her friend sosuccessfully that she soon succeeded in evoking a great degree of publiccuriosity, which finally resulted in an engagement. 

Malibran's first appearance in the Grand Opéra at Paris was for thebenefit of Mme. Galli, in "Semiramide. " It was a terrible ordeal, forshe had such great stars as Pasta and Sontag to compete with, and shewas treading a classic stage, with which the memories of all the greatnames in the lyric art were connected. She felt that on the result ofthat night all the future success of her life depended. Though her heartwas struck with such a chill that her knees quaked as she stepped on thestage, her indomitable energy and courage came to her assistance, andshe produced an indescribable sensation. Her youth, beauty, andnoble air won the hearts of all. One difficult phrase proved such astumbling-block that, in the agitation of a first appearance, she failedto surmount it, and there was an apprehension that the lovely singer wasabout to fail. But in the grand aria, "Bel Raggio, " she indicated suchresources of execution and daring of improvisation, and displayed such afull and beautiful voice, that the house resounded with the most furiousapplause. Mme. Malibran, encouraged by this warm reception, redoubledthe difficulties of her execution, and poured forth lavishness offioriture and brilliant cadenzas such as fairly dazzled her hearers. Paris was conquered, and Mme. Malibran became the idol of the city, forthe novelty and richness of her style of execution set her apart fromall other singers as a woman of splendid inventive genius. She couldnow make her own terms with the managers, and she finally gave thepreference to the Italiens over the Grand Opéra, at terms of eighthundred francs per night, and a full benefit. 

In voice, genius, and character Mme. Mali-bran was alike original. Her organ was not naturally of first-rate quality. The voice was amezzo-soprano, naturally full of defects, especially in the middletones, which were hard and uneven, and to the very last she was obligedto go through her exercises every day to keep it flexible. By thetremendously severe discipline to which she had been subjected by herfather's teaching and method, the range of voice had been extended upand down so that it finally reached a compass of three octaves from Din alt to D on the third line in the base. Her high notes had anindescribable sparkle and brilliancy, and her low tones were so soft, sweet, and heart-searching that they thrilled with every varying phaseof her sensibilities. Her daring in the choice of ornaments was so greatthat it was only justified by the success which invariably crowned herflights of inventive fancy: To the facility and cultivation of voice, which came from her father's training, she added a fertility of musicalinspiration which came from nature. A French critic wrote of her:"Her passages were not only remarkable for extent, rapidity, andcomplication, but were invariably marked by the most intense feeling andsentiment. Her soul appeared in everything she did. " Her extraordinaryflexibility enabled her to run with ease over passages of the mostdifficult character. "In the tones of Malibran, " says one of her Englishadmirers, "there would at times be developed a deep and tremblingpathos, that, rushing from the fountain of the heart, thrilled instantlyupon a responsive chord in the bosoms of all. " She was the pupil ofnature. Her acting was full of genius, passion, and tenderness. She wasequally grand as _Semiramide_ and as _Arsace_, and sang the music ofboth parts superbly. Touching, profoundly melancholy as _Desdemona_, she was gay and graceful in _Rosina_; she drew tears as _Ninetta_, and, throwing off the coquette, could produce roars of laughter as _Fidalma_. She had never taken lessons in poses or in declamation, yet she wasessentially, innately graceful. Mme. Malibran was in person aboutthe middle height, and the contour of her figure was rounded to anenchanting _embonpoint_, which yet preserved its youthful grace. Hercarriage was exceedingly noble, and the face more expressive thanhandsome; her hair was black and glossy, and always worn in a simplestyle. The eyes were dark and luminous, the teeth white and regular, andthe countenance, habitually pensive in expression, was mutable in theextreme, and responsive to every emotion and feeling of the heart. Toquote from Mr. Chorley: "She may not have been beautiful, but she wasbetter than beautiful, insomuch as a speaking Spanish human countenanceis ten times more fascinating than many a faultless angel-face such asGuido could paint. There was health of tint, with but a slight touch ofthe yellow rose in her complexion; great mobility of expression in herfeatures; an honest, direct brightness of eye; a refinement in the formof her head, and the set of it on her shoulders. "

When she was reproached by Fetis for using _ad captandum_ effects toolavishly in the admonition: "With the degree of elevation to which youhave attained, you should impose your opinion on the public, not submitto theirs, " she answered, with a laugh and a shrug of her charmingshoulders: "_Mon cher grognon_, there may perhaps be two or threeconnoisseurs in the theatre, but it is not they who give success. When Ising for you, I will sing very differently. " Mme. Malibran, buoyed upon the passionate enthusiasm of the French public, essayed the mostwonderful and daring flights in her song. She appeared as _Desdemona, Rosina_, and as _Romeo_ in Zingarelli's opera--characters, of the mostopposing kind and two of them, indeed, among Pasta's masterpieces. Itwas said that, "if Malibran must yield the palm to Pasta in point ofacting, yet she possessed a decided superiority in respect of song";and, even in acting, Malibran's grace, originality, vivacity, piquancy, spontaneity, feeling, and tenderness, won the heart of all spectators. Such was her versatility, that the _Semi-ramide_ of one evening was the_Cinderella_ of the next, the _Zerlina_ of another, and the _Desdemona_of its successor; and in each the individuality of conception wasadmirably preserved. On being asked by a friend which was her favoriterôle, she answered, "The character I happen to be acting, whichever itmay be. "

In spite, however, of the general testimony to her great dramaticability, so clever and capable a judge as Henry Chorley rated hermusical genius as far higher than that of dramatic conception. Hesays: "Though creative as an executant, Malibran was not creative asa dramatic artist. Though the fertility and audacity of her musicalinvention had no limits, though she had the power and science of acomposer, she did not establish one new opera or character on the stage, hardly even one first-class song in a concert-room. " This criticism, when closely examined, may perhaps indicate a high order of praise. Mme. Malibran, as an artist, was so unique and original in her methods, soincomparable in the invention and skill which required no master toprompt or regulate her cadences, so complex in the ingenuity whichblended the resources of singing and acting, that other singers simplydespaired of imitating her effects, and what she did perished with her, except as a brilliant tradition. In other words, her utter superiorityto the conventional made her artistic work phenomenal, and of a stylenot to be perpetuated on the stage. The weight of testimony appears tobe that Mme. Malibran was, beyond all of her competitors, a singer ofmost versatile and brilliant genius, in whom dramatic instincts reignedwith as dominant force as ability of musical expression. The fact, however, that Mme. Malibran, with a voice weak and faulty in the extremein one whole octave of its range, and that the most important (betweenF and F), was able by her matchless skill and audacity in the forms ofexecution, modification, and ornament, to achieve the most brilliantresults, might well blind even a keen connoisseur by kindling hisadmiration of her musical invention, at the expense of his recognitionof dramatic faculty. 

It was characteristic of Mme. Malibran that she fired all herfellow-artists with the ardor of her genius. Her resources and knowledgewere such that she could sing in any school and any language. The musicof Mozart and Cimarosa, Boïeldieu and Eossini, Cherubini and Bellini, Donizetti and Meyerbeer, furnished in equal measure the mold into whichher great powers poured themselves with a sort of inspired fury, likethat of a Greek Pythoness. She had an artistic individuality powerfulto create types of its own, which were the despair of other singers, forthey were incapable of reproduction, inasmuch as they were partly forgedfrom her own defects, transformed by genius into beauties. In all thoseaccomplishments which have their root in the art temperament, she was asort of Admirable Crichton. She played the piano-forte with great skill, and, with no special knowledge of drawing, possessed marked talent insketching caricatures, portraits, and scenes from nature. She composedboth the music and words of songs and romances with a felicitous ease. She excelled in feminine works, such as embroidery, tapestry, anddressmaking, and always modeled her own costumes. It was a saying withher friends that she was as much the artist with her needle as withher voice. She wrote and spoke five languages, and often used them withdifferent interlocutors with such readiness and accuracy that sherarely confused them. Her wit and vivacity as a conversationalist werecelebrated, and her _mots_ had the point as well as the flash of thediamond. Her retorts and sarcasms often wounded, but she was quick toheal the stroke by a sweet and childlike contrition that made her doublyfascinating. 

Impassioned, ardent, the prey of an endless excitement, her restlessnature would quickly return from its flights to the every-day dutiesand responsibilities of life, and her instincts were so strong andnoble that she was eager to repair any errors into which she might bebetrayed. Lavish in her generosity to others, she was personally frugal, even penurious. A certain brusque and original frankness, and theingenuousness with which she betrayed every impression, often involvedher in compromising positions, which would have been fatal to a womanin her position less pure and upright in her essential nature. Fond ofdolls, toys, and trifles, she was also devoted to athletic sports andpastimes, riding, swimming, skating, shooting, and fencing. Sometimesher return from a fatiguing night at the opera would be marked by anexuberance of animal spirits, which would lead her to jump over chairsand tables like a schoolboy. She was wont to say, "When I try torestrain my flow of spirits, I feel as if I should be suffocated. " Herreckless gayety and unconventional manners led to strange rumors. Shewould wander over the country attired in boy's clothes, and without anescort, and a great variety of innocent escapades led a carping world tobelieve that she indulged excessively in stimulants, but the truth wasthat she never drank anything but a little wine-and-water. 

Maria could not long endure the frowning tutelage of M. Malibran'ssister, whom she at first selected as her chaperon, and so one day shedecamped without warning, in a coach, and established her "householdgods" with Mme. Naldi, an old friend of her father, and a woman ofaustere manners, whom she obeyed like a child. Her protector had chargeof all her money, and opened all her letters before Maria saw them. When her fortune was at his height, Mme. Mali-bran showed her friend andbiographer, Countess do Merlin, a much-worn Cashmere shawl, saying: "Iuse this in preference to any that I have. It was the first Cashmereshawl I ever owned, and I have pleasure in remembering how hard I foundit to coax Mme. Naldi to let me buy it. "

In 1828 the principal members of the operatic company at the Italienswere Malibran, Sontag, Donzelli, Zuchelli, and Graziani. Malibran sangin "Otello, " "Matilda di Shabran, " "La Cenerentola, " and "La GazzaLadra. " Jealous as she was by temperament, she always wept whenMadamoiselle Sontag achieved a great success, saying, naively, "Why doesshe sing so divinely?" The coldness between the two great singers wasfomented by the malice of others, but at last a touching reconciliationoccurred, and the two rivals remained ever afterward sincere friends andadmirers of each other's talents. There are many charming anecdotes ofMadame Malibran's generosity and quick sympathy. At the house of one ofher friends she often met an aged widow, poor and unhappy, and stronglydesired to assist her; but the position and character of the ladyrequired delicate management. "Madame, " she said at last, "I know thatyour son makes very pretty verses. " "Yes, madame, he sometimes amuseshimself in that way. But he is so young!" "No matter. Do you know thatI could propose a little partnership affair? Troupenas [the musicpublisher] has asked me for a new set of romances. I have no wordsready. If your son will give them to me, we could share the profits. "Mme. Malibran received the verses, and gave in exchange six hundredfrancs. The romances were never finished. 

She performed all such acts of charity with so much refined delicacy, such true generosity, that the kindness was doubled. Thus, at the endof this season, a young female chorister, engaged for the opening of theKing's Theatre, found herself unable to quit Paris for want of funds. Mme. Malibran promised to sing at a concert which some of the leadingvocalists gave for her benefit. The name of Malibran of course drew acrowd, and the room was filled; but she did not appear, and at last theywere obliged to commence the concert. The entertainment was half overwhen she came, and approached the young girl, saying to her in a lowvoice: "I am a little late, my dear, but the public will lose nothing, for I will sing all the pieces announced. In addition, as I promised youall my evening, I will keep my word. I went to sing in a concert at thehouse of the Duc d'Orléans, where I received three hundred francs. Theybelong to you. Take them. "

III. 

In April of the same year during which Mme. Malibran had establishedherself so firmly in the admiration of the Parisian world, she acceptedan engagement for the summer months with La-porte of the King's Theatrein London. She made her _début_ in the character of _Desdemona_, a partwhich had already been firmly fixed in the notions of the musical publicby the two differing conceptions of Pasta and Sontag. The opera had beenoriginally written for Mme. Colbran, Rossini's wife, and when it wasrevived for Pasta that great lyric tragedienne had embodied in it agrand, stormy, passionate style, suited to the _genre_ of her genius. Mme. Sontag, on the other hand, fashioned her impersonation from theside of delicate sentiment and tenderness, and Malibran had a difficulttask in shaping the conception after an ideal which should escape thereproach of imitation. Her version was full of electric touchesand rapid alternations of feeling, but at times it bordered on thesensational and extravagant. Her fiery vehemence was often felt to beinconsistent with the tenderness of the heroine. The critics, whileadmitting the varied and original beauties of her reading, were yetsevere in their condemnation of some of its features. Mme. Malibran, however, urged that her action was what she would have manifested in theactual situations. "I remember once, " says the Countess De Merlin, "afriend advised her not to make _Otello_ pursue her so long when he wasabout to kill her. Her answer was: 'You are right; it is not elegant, Iadmit; but, when once I fairly enter into my character, I never think ofeffects, but imagine myself actually the person I represent. I canassure you that in the last scene of Desdemona I often feel as if I werereally about to be murdered, and act accordingly. ' Donzelli used to bemuch annoyed by Mme. Malibran not determining beforehand how he was toseize her; she often gave him a regular chase. Though he was one of thebest-tempered men in the world, I recollect him one evening beingseriously angry. Desdemona had, according to custom, repeatedly escapedfrom his grasp; in pursuing her, he stumbled, and slightly woundedhimself with the dagger he brandished. It was the only time I ever sawhim in a passion. "

She next appeared successively as _Rosina, Ni-netta, and Tancredi_, winning fresh laurels in them all, not only by her superb skill invocalizing, but by her versatility of dramatic conception and the easewith which she entered into the most opposite phases of feelingand motive. She covered Rossini's elaborate fioriture with a freshprofusion of ornament, but always with a dexterity which saved it fromthe reproach of being overladen. She performed _Semiramide_ with Mme. Pisaroni, and played Zerlina to Sontag's _Donna Anna_. Her habit oftreating such dramatic parts as _Ninetta, Zerlina_, and _Amina_ was theoccasion of keen controversy among the critics of the time. Entirelyaverse to the conventional method of idealizing the character of thecountry girl out of all semblance to nature, Malibran was essentiallyrealistic in preserving the rusticity, awkwardness, and _naivete_ ofpeasant-life. One critic argued: "It is by no means rare to discover inthe humblest walk of life an inborn grace and delicacy of Nature's ownimplanting; and such assuredly is the model from which characters like_Ninetta_ and _Zerlina_ ought to be copied. " But there were others whosaw in the vigor, breadth, and verisimilitude of Mme. Malibran's stageportraits of the peasant wench the truest and finest dramatic justice. A great singer of our own age, Mme. Pauline Lucca, seems to have modeledher performances of the operatic rustic after the same method. In suchcharacters as __Susanna in the "Nozze di Figaro, " and _Fidalma_in Cimarosa's "Il Matrimonio Segreto, " her talent for lyric comedyimpressed the _cognoscenti_ of London with irresistible power. She wasfascinated by the ludicrous, and was wont to say that she was anxiousto play the _Duenna_ in "Il Barbiere" for the sake of the grotesquecostume. In playing _Fidalma_ the drollery of her tone and manner, therichness and originality of her comic humor, were incomparable. Herdaring, however, prompted her to do strange things, which would havebeen condemned in any other singer. For example, while _Fidalma_ is inthe midst of the most ludicrous drollery of the part, Malibran suddenlytook up one word and gave an extended series of the most brilliant anddifficult roulades of her own improvisation, through the whole rangeof her voice. Her hearers were transported at this musical feat, but itentirely interrupted the continuity of the humor. 

On Mme. Malibran's return to Paris, she found her father, who hadunexpectedly returned from his Mexican tour, thoroughly bankrupted inpurse, and more embittered than ever by his train of misfortunes. Heannounced his intention of giving some representations at the TheatreItalien. This resolution caused much vexation to his daughter, but shedid not oppose it. Garcia had lost a part of his voice; his tenor hadbecome a barytone, and he could no longer reach the notes which had informer times been written for him. She knew how much her father's voicehad become injured, and knowing equally well his intrepid courage, feared, not without reason, that he would tarnish his brilliantreputation. Garcia displayed even more than ever the great artist. Ahoarseness seized him at the moment of appearing on the stage. "Thisis nothing, " said he: "I shall do very well"; and, by sheer strength oftalent and of will, he arranged the music of his part (_Almaviva_) tosuit the condition of his voice, changing the passages, transposing theman octave lower, and taking up notes adroitly where he found his voiceavailable; and all this instantly, with an admirable confidence. 

Malibran's second season in Paris confirmed the estimate which had beenplaced on her genius, but the incessant labors of her professional lifeand the ardor with which she pursued the social enjoyments of life werecommencing to undermine her health. She never hesitated to sacrificeherself and her time for the benefit of her friends, in spite of her ownphysical debility. One night she had promised to sing at the house ofher friend, Mme. Merlin, and was amazed at the refusal of her manager topermit her absence from the theatre on a benefit-night. She said to him:"It does not signify; I sing at the theatre because it is my duty, butafterward I sing at Mme. Merlin's because it is my pleasure. " And soafter one o'clock in the morning, wearied from the arduous performanceof "Semiramide, " she appeared at her friend's and sang, supped, andwaltzed till daybreak. This excess in living every moment of her lifeand utter indifference to the requirements of health were characteristicof her whole career. One night she fainted in her dressing-roombefore going on the stage. In the hurry of applying restoratives, a_vinaigrette_ containing some caustic acid was emptied over her lips, and her mouth was covered with blisters. The manager was in despair; butMme. Malibran, quietly stepping to the mirror, cut off the blisters witha pair of scissors, and sang as usual. Such was the indomitable courageof the woman that she was always faithful to her obligations, come whatmight; a conscientiousness which was afterward the immediate cause ofher death. 

IV. 

It was in Paris, in 1830, that Mme. Malibran's romantic attachment to M. Charles de Bériot, the famous Belgian violinist, had its beginning. M. De Bériot had been warmly and hopelessly enamored of Malibran's rival, Mdlle. Sontag, in spite of the fact that the latter lady was known tobe the _fiancée_ of Count Rossi. The sympathies of Malibran's warm andaffectionate heart were called out by her friend's disappointment, forgossip in the musical circles of Paris discussed De Bériot's unfortunatelove-affair very freely. With her usual impulsive candor she expressedher interest in the brilliant young violinist without reserve, and itwas not long before De Bériot made Malibran his confidante, and foundconsolation for his troubles in her soothing companionship. The resultwas what might have been expected. Malibran's beauty, tenderness, andgenius speedily displaced the former idol in the heart of the Belgianartist, while she learned that it was but a short step between pity andlove. This mutual affection was the cause of a dispute between Maria andher friend Mme. Naldi, whose austere morality disapproved the intimacy, and there was a separation, our singer moving into lodgings of her own. 

It was during her London engagement of the same year that Mme. Malibranbecame acquainted with the greatest of bassos, Lablache, who made his_début_ before an English public in the rôle of _Geronimo_, in "IlMatrimonio Segreto. " The friendship between these two distinguishedartists became a very warm one, that only terminated with Malibran'sdeath. Lablache, who had sung with all the greatest artists of the age, lamented her early taking off as one of the greatest misfortunes of thelyric stage. One strong tie between them was their mutual benevolence. On one occasion an unfortunate Italian importuned Lablache forassistance to return to his native land. The next day, when all thecompany were assembled for rehearsal, Lablache requested them to joinin succoring their unhappy compatriot; all responded to the call, Mme. Lalande and Donzelli each contributing fifty francs. Malibran gave thesame as the others; but, the following day, seizing the opportunity ofbeing alone with Lablache, she desired him to add to her subscription offifty francs two hundred and fifty more; she had not liked to appear tobestow more than her friends, so she had remained silent the precedingday. Lablache hastened to seek his _protégé_, who, however, profitingby the help afforded him, had already embarked; but, not discouraged, Lablache hurried after him, and arrived just as the steamer was leavingthe Thames. Entering a boat, however, he reached the vessel, wenton board, and gave the money to the _émigré_, whose expressions ofgratitude amply repaid the trouble of the kind-hearted basso. Anothertime Malibran aided a poor Italian who was destitute, telling him to saynothing about it. "Ah, madame, " he cried, "you have saved me for ever!""Hush!" she interrupted; "do not say that; only the Almighty could doso. Pray to him. "

The feverish activity of Mme. Malibran was shown at this time in aprofusion of labors and an ardor in amusement which alarmed all herfriends. When not engaged in opera, she was incessant in concert-giving, for which her terms were eighty guineas per night. She would fly toCalais and sing there, hurry back to England, thence hasten to Brussels, where she would give a concert, and then cross the Channel again, givingherself no rest. Night after night she would dance and sing at privateparties till dawn, and thus waste the precious candle of her life atboth ends. She was haunted by a fancy that, when she ceased to livethus, she would suddenly die, for she was full of the superstitionof her Spanish race. Mme. Malibran about this time essayed the sameexperiment which Pasta had tried, that of singing the rôle of the Moorin "Otello. " It was not very successful, though she sang the music andacted the part with fire. The delicate figure of a woman was not fittedfor the strong and masculine personality of the Moorish warrior, andthe charm of her expression was completely veiled by the swarthy maskof paint. Her versatility was so daring that she wished even to out-leapthe limits of nature. 

The great _diva's_ horizon (since Sontag's retirement from the stage shehad been acknowledged the leading singer of the age) was now destined tobe clouded by a portentous event. M. Malibran arrived in Paris. He hadheard of his wife's brilliant success, and had come to assert his rightsover her. Maria declined to see him, and no persuasions of her friendscould induce her to grant the _soi-disant_ husband, for whose memory shehad nothing but rooted aversion, even an interview. Though she finallyarrived at a compromise with him (for his sole interest in resumingrelationship with his wife seemed to be the desire of sharing in theemoluments of her profession), she determined not to sing again in theFrench capital while M. Malibran remained there, and accordingly retiredto a chateau near Brussels. The whole musical world was interested insettling this imbroglio, and there was a final settlement, by the termsof which the singer was not to be troubled or interfered with by herhusband as long as he was paid a fixed stipend. She returned to Paris, and reappeared at the Italiens as _Ninetta_, the great Rubini being inthe same cast. The two singers vied with each other "till, " observed aFrench critic, "it seemed as if talent, feeling, and enthusiasm could gono further. " This engagement, however, was cut short by her frequent andalarming illnesses, and Mme. Malibran, though reckless and short-sightedin regard to her own health, became seriously alarmed. She suddenlydeparted from the city, leaving a letter for the director, Severini, avowing a determination not to return, at least till her health wasfully reestablished. This threatened the ruin of the administration, forMalibran was the all-powerful attraction. M. Viardot, a friend whohad her entire confidence (Mlle. Pauline Garcia afterward became Mme. Viardot), was sent to Brussels as ambassador, and he represented theruin she would entail on the operatic season of the Italiens. This pleaappealed to her generosity, and she returned to fulfill her engagement. Constant attacks of illness, however, continued to disturb herperformances, and the Parisian public chose to attribute thisinterruption of their pleasures to the caprice of the _diva_. Sheso resented this injustice that she determined, at the close ofthe engagement, that she would never again sing in Paris. Her lastappearance, on January 8, 1832, was as _Desdemona_, and the fervency ofher singing and acting made it a memorable night, as the rumor had creptout that Mme. Malibran was then taking a lasting leave of them as anartist, and the audience sought to repair their former injustice byredoubled expressions of enthusiasm and pleasure. 

An amusing instance of her eccentric and impulsive resolution washer hasty tour with La-blache to Italy which occurred a few monthsafterward. The great basso, passing through Brussels _en route_ toNaples, called at her villa to pay his respects. Malibran declared herintention, in spite of his laughing incredulity, of going with him. Though he was to leave at dawn the next morning, she was waiting at thedoor of his hotel when he came down the stairs. As she had no passport, she was detained on the Lombardy frontier till Lablache obtained theneeded document. At Milan she only sang in private concerts, and pressedon to Rome, where she engaged for a short season at the Teatro Valle, and succeeded in offending the _amour propre_ of the Romans by singingFrench romances of her own composition in the lesson-scene of "IlBarbiere. " She learned of the death of her father while in Rome, newswhich plunged her in the deepest despondency, for the memory of hissternness and cruelty had long been effaced by her appreciation of theinestimable value his training had been to her. She had often remarkedto her friend, Mme. Merlin, that without just such a severe system hervoice would never have attained its possibilities. 

From Rome she went to Naples to fulfill a _scrittura_ with Barbaja, thecelebrated _impressario_ of that city, to give twelve performances atone thousand francs a night. An immense audience greeted her on theopening night at the Fondo Theatre, August 6, 1832, at first with a coldand critical indifference--a feeling, however, which quickly flamedinto all the unrestrained volcanic ardor of the Neapolitan temperament. Thenceforward she sang at double prices, "notwithstanding thesubscribers' privileges were on most of these occasions suspended, andalthough 'Otello, ' 'La Gazza Ladra, ' and operas of that description werethe only ones offered to a public long since tired even of the beautiesof Rossini, and proverbial for their love of novelty. "

Her great triumph, however, was on the night when she took her leave, in the character of _Ninetta_. "Nothing can be imagined finer than thespectacle afforded by the immense Theatre of San Carlo, crowded to thevery ceiling, and ringing with acclamations, " says a correspondent ofone of the English papers at the time. "Six times after the fall ofthe curtain Mme. Mali-bran was called forward to receive the reiteratedplaudits and adieux of the assembled multitude, and indicate by gracefuland expressive gestures the degree to which she was overpowered byfatigue and emotion. The scene did not end within the walls of thetheatre; for a crowd of the most enthusiastic rushed from all partsof the house to the stage-door, and, as soon as her sedan came out, escorted it with loud acclamations to the Palazzo Barbaja, and renewedtheir salutations as the charming vocalist ascended the steps. "

Mme. Malibran had now learned to dearly love Italy and its impulsive, warm-hearted people, so congenial to her own nature. She sang indifferent Italian cities, receiving everywhere the most enthusiasticreceptions. In Bologna they placed a bust of their adored songstressin the peristyle of the theatre. Each city vied with its neighbor inlavishing princely gifts on her. She had not long been in London, whereshe returned to meet her spring engagement at the King's Theatre in1833, when she concluded a contract with the Duke Visconti of Milan forone hundred and eighty-five performances, seventy-five in the autumn andcarnival season of 1835-'36, seventy-five in the corresponding season of1836-'37, and thirty-five in the autumn of 1836, at a salary of eighteenthousand pounds. These were the highest terms which had then ever beenoffered to a public singer, or in fact to any stage performer since thedays of imperial Rome. 

V. 

Mme. Malibran's Italian experiences were in the highest sense gratifyingalike to her pride as a great artist and to her love of admiration asa woman. Her popularity became a mania which infected all classes, andher appearance on the streets was the signal for the most fervid shoutsof enthusiasm from the populace. For two years she alternated betweenLondon and the sunny lands where she had become such an idol. She hadto struggle in Milan against the indelible impress made by Mme. Pasta, whose admirers entertained an almost fanatical regard for her memory asthe greatest of lyric artists; but when Malibran appeared as _Norma_, a part written by Bellini expressly for Pasta, she was proclaimed _lacantante per eccelenza_. A medal, executed by the distinguished sculptorValerio Nesti, was struck in her honor. Her generosity of nature wassignally instanced during these golden Italian days in many acts ofbeneficence, of which the following are instances: During her stay atSinigaglia in the summer of 1834, she heard an exquisite voicesinging beneath the windows of her hotel. On looking out she saw a wanbeggar-girl dressed in rags. Discovering by investigation that it was acase of genuine want, she placed the girl in a position where she couldreceive an excellent musical education and have all her needs amplysupplied. On the eve of her departure from Naples, the last engagementshe ever sang in that city, Gallo, proprietor of the Teatro Emeronnitio, came to entreat her to sing once at his establishment. He had a wife andseveral children, and was a very worthy man, on the verge of bankruptcy. "I will sing, " answered she, "on one condition--that not a word issaid about remuneration. " She chose the part of _Amina_; the house wascrammed, and the poor man was saved from ruin. A vast multitude followedher home, with an enthusiasm which amounted almost to a frenzy, and thegrateful manager named his theatre the Teatro Garcia. On Ash-Wednesday, March 13, 1835, Mme. Malibran bade the Neapolitans adieu--an eternaladieu. Radiant with glory, and crowned with flowers, she was conductedby the Neapolitans to the faubourgs amid the _éclat_ of _vivats_ andacclamations. 

The Neapolitans adored Malibran, and she loved to sing to thesesusceptible lovers of the divine art. On one occasion when she wassuffering from a severe accident, she appeared with her arm in a slingrather then disappoint her audience. During all her Italian seasons, especially in Naples, where perfection of climate and delightful scenerycombine to stimulate the animal spirits, she pursued the same wildand reckless course which had so often threatened to cut off her frailtenure of life. A daring horsewoman and swimmer, she alternated theseexercises with fatiguing studies and incessant social pleasures. Shepracticed music five or six hours a day, spent several hours in violentexercise, and in the evenings not engaged at the theatre would goto parties, where she amused herself and her friends in a thousanddifferent ways--making caricatures, doggerel verses, riddles, conundrums, _bouts-rimes_, dancing, jesting, laughing, and singing. Fullof exhaustless vivacity, she seemed more and more to disdain rest as herphysical powers grew weaker. The enthusiasm with which she was receivedand followed everywhere was in itself a dangerous draught on her nervousenergies, which should have been husbanded, not lavishly wasted. Onenight at Milan she was deluged with bouquets of which the leaves were ofgold and silver, and recalled by the frantic acclamations of her hearerstwenty times, at the close of which she fainted on the stage. It wasduring this engagement at Milan that she heard of the death of the youngcomposer, Vincentio Bellini, on September 23, 1835, and she set onfoot a subscription for a tribute to his memory, leading the list withfour-hundred francs. It was a premonition of her own departure from theworld of art which she had so splendidly adorned, for exactly a yearfrom that day she breathed her last sigh. 

Her arrival in Venice during this last triumphant tour of her lifewas the occasion for an ovation not less flattering than those she hadreceived elsewhere. As her gondola entered the Grand Canal, she waswelcomed with a deafening _fanfare_ of trumpets, the crash of musicalbands, and the shouts of a vast multitude. It was as if some greatgeneral had just returned from victories in the field, which had saved astate. Mali-bran was frightened at this enthusiasm, and took refuge in achurch, which speedily became choke-full of people, and a passage hadto be opened for her exit to her hotel. Whenever she appeared, themultitude so embarrassed her that a way had to be made by the gendarmes, and her gondola was always pursued by a _cortege_ of other gondolas, that crowded in her wake. When she departed, the city presented her witha magnificent diamond and ruby diadem. 

In March, 1835, the divorce which she had long been seeking was grantedby a French tribunal, and ten months later, at the expiration of thelimit fixed by French law, she married M. De Bériot, March 29, 1836, thus legalizing the birth of their son, Wilfred de Bériot, who, withone daughter, that did not live, had been the fruit of their passionateattachment. On the day of her marriage she distributed a thousand francsamong the poor, and her friends showered costly gifts on her, among thembeing an agraffe of pearls from the Queen of France. 

During the season of 1835 Mme. Malibran appeared for Mr. Bunn atDrury Lane and Covent Garden in twenty-six performances, for which shereceived £3, 463. Among other operas she appeared in Balfe's new work, "The Maid of Artois, " which, in spite of its beautiful melody, has neverkept its hold on the stage. Her _Leonora_ in Beethoven's "Fidelio"was considered by many the peer of Mme. Schrôder-Devrient's grandperformance. Her labors during this season were gigantic. She would riseat 5 a. M. , and practice for several hours, rehearsing before a mirrorand inventing attitudes. It was in this way that she conceived the"stage-business" which produced such an electric impression in "GliOrazi, " when the news of her lover's death is announced to the heroine. "While the rehearsals of 'The Maid of Artois' were going on from day today--and Mme. Malibran's rehearsals were not so many hours of saunteringindifference--she would, immediately after they were finished, dartto one or two concerts, and perhaps conclude the day by singing at anevening party. She pursued the same course during her performance ofthat arduous character, " thus wrote one of the critics of the time, forthe interest which Malibran excited was so great that the public lovedto hear of all the details of her remarkable career. 

Shortly after her marriage in the spring of 1836, Mme. De Bériot wasthrown from her horse while attending a hunting-party in England, and sustained serious internal injury, which she neglected to provideagainst by medical treatment, concealing it even from her husband. Indeed, she sang on the same evening, and her prodigious facility in_tours de force_ was the subject of special comment, for she seemedspurred to outdo herself from consciousness of physical weakness. Whenshe returned to England again in the following September, her failinghealth was painfully apparent to all. Yet her unconquerable energystruggled against her sufferings, and she would permit herselfno relaxation. In vain her husband and her good friend Lablachcremonstrated. A hectic, feverish excitement pervaded all her actions. She was engaged to sing at the Manchester Musical Festival, and at therehearsals she would laugh and cry hysterically by turns. 

At the first performance of the festival in the morning, she was carriedout of her dressing-room in a swoon, but the dying singer was bent ondoing what she considered her duty. She returned and delivered the airof _Abraham_ by Cimarosa. Her thrilling tones and profound dejectionmade a deep impression on the audience. The next day she rallied fromher sick-bed and insisted on being carried to the festival building, where she was to sing a duet with Mme. Caradori-Allen. This was thedying song of the swan, and it is recorded that her last effort was oneof the finest of her life. The assembly, entranced by the genius andskill of the singer, forgot her precarious condition and demanded arepetition. Malibran again sang with all the passionate fire of hernature, and her wonderful voice died away in a prolonged shake on hervery topmost note. It was her last note on earth, for she was carriedthence to her deathbed. 

Her sufferings were terrible. Convulsions and fainting-fits followedeach other in swift succession, and it was evident that her end wasnear. The news of her fatal illness excited the deepest sympathy andsorrow throughout England and France, and bulletins of her conditionwere issued every day. Pending the arrival of her own physician, Dr. Belluomini, from London, she had been bled while in a fainting-fit bytwo local practitioners. When she recovered her senses, she said, "I ama slain woman, for they have bled me!" She died on September 23, 1836, and De Bériot's name was the last word that parted her pallid lips. 

The death of this great and idolized singer produced a painful shockthroughout Europe, and was regarded as a public calamity, for she hadbeen as much admired and beloved as a woman as she was worshiped asan artist. Her remains, first interred in Manchester, were afterwardremoved by her husband to Brussels, where he raised a circular memorialchapel to her memory at Lacken. Her statue, chiseled in white marble byGeefs, represents her as _Norma_, and stands in the center, faintly litby a single sunbeam admitted from a dome, and surrounded by masses ofshadow. "It appears, " says the Countess de Merlin, "like a fantasticthought, the dream of a poet. "

Maria Malibran was unquestionably one of the most gifted and remarkablewomen who ever adorned the lyric stage. The charm of her singingconsisted in the peculiarity of the timbre and the remarkable range ofher voice, in her excitable temperament, which prompted her to executethe most audacious improvisations, and in her strong musical feeling, which kept her improvisations within the laws of good taste. Her voice, a mezzo-soprano, with a high soprano range superadded by incessant workand training, was in its middle register very defective, a fault whichshe concealed by her profound musical knowledge and technical skill. It was her mind that helped to enslave her hearers; for without mentaloriginality and a distinct sort of creative force her defective voicewould have failed to charm, where in fact it did provoke raptures. Shewas, in the exact sense of a much-abused adjective, a phenomenal singer, and it is the misfortune of the present generation that she died tooyoung for them to hear. 

WILHELMINA SCHRÖDER-DEVRIENT. 

Mme. Schröder-Devrient the Daughter of a Woman of Genius. --Her EarlyAppearance on the Dramatic Stage in Connection with her Mother. --Shestudies Music and devotes herself to the Lyric Stage. --Her Operatic_Début_ in Mozart's "Zauberflôte. "--Her Appearance and Voice. --Mlle. Schröder makes her _Début_ in her most Celebrated Character, _Fidelio_. --Her own Description of the First Performance. --A WonderfulDramatic Conception. --Henry Chorley's Judgment of her as a Singer andActress. --She marries Carl Devrient at Dresden. --Mme. Schröder-Devrientmakes herself celebrated as a Representative of Weber's RomanticHeroines. --Dissolution of her Marriage. --She makes SuccessfulAppearances in Paris and London in both Italian and GermanOpera. --English Opinions of the German Artist. --Anecdotes of her LondonEngagement. --An Italian Tour and Reëngagements for the Paris and LondonStage. --Different Criticisms of her Artistic Style. --Retirement from theStage, and Second Marriage. --Her Death in 1860, and the Honors paid tothe Memory of her Genius. 

I. 

In the year 1832 German opera in its original form was introduced intoEngland for the first time, and London learned to recognize the grandeurof Beethoven in opera, as it had already done in symphony and sonata. "Fidelio" had been already presented in its Italian dress, withoutmaking very much impression, for the score had been much mutilated, andthe departure from the spirit of the composer flagrant. The opera, as given by artists "to the manner born, " was a revelation to Englishaudiences. The intense musical vigor of Beethoven's great work was feltto be a startling variety, wrought out as it was in its principalpart by the genius of a great lyric vocalist. This was Mme. Schröder-Devrient, who, as an operatic tragedienne, stands foremost inthe annals of the German musical stage, though others have surpassedher in merely vocal resources, and who never has been rivaled except byPasta. 

She was the daughter of Sophia Schröder, the Siddons of Germany. Thisdistinguished actress for a long time reigned supreme in her art. Herdeep sensibilities and dramatic instincts, her noble elocution andstately beauty, fitted her admirably for tragedy. In such parts as_Phèdre, Medea, Lady Macbeth, Mérope, Sappho, Jeanne de Montfaucon, and Isabella_ in "The Bride of Messina, " she had no pere. WilhelminaSchröder was born in Hamburg, October 6, 1805, and was destined by hermother for a stage career. In pursuance of this, the child appeared atthe age of five years as a little Cupid, and at ten danced in the balletat the Imperial Theatre of Vienna. With the gradual development of theyoung girl's character came the ambition for a higher grade of artisticwork. So, when she arrived at the age of fifteen, her mother, who wishedher to appear in tragedy, secured for her a position at the Burgtheaterof Vienna, where she played in such parts as _Aricie_ in "Phèdre, "and _Ophelia_ in "Hamlet. " The impression she made was that of a greatnascent actress, who would one day worthily fill the place of hermother. But the true scope of her genius was not yet defined, for shehad not studied music. At last she was able to study under an Italianmaster of great repute, named Mazzatti, who resided in the Austriancapital. 

Her first appearance was as _Pamina_ in Mozart's "Zauberflote, " at theVienna theatre, January 20, 1821. The _débutante_ was warmly welcomed byan appreciative audience, and the terrors of the young girl of seventeenwere quickly assuaged by the generous recognition she received. Thebeauty of her voice, her striking figure and port, and her dramaticgenius, combined to make her instantly successful. Wilhelmina Schröderwas tall and nobly molded, and her face, though not beautiful, wassweet, frank, and fascinating--a face which became transfigured withfire and passion under the influence of strong emotion. Her vocal organwas a mellow soprano, which, though not specially flexible, unitedsoftness with volume and compass. In intonation and phrasing, her art, in spite of her youth and inexperience, showed itself to be singularlyperfect. Though she rapidly became a favorite, her highest triumph wasnot achieved till she appeared as _Leonora_ in the "Fidelio. " In thisshe eclipsed all who had preceded her, and Germany soon rang with hername as that of an artist of the highest genius. Her own account of herfirst representation of this rôle is of much interest:

"When I was studying the character of _Leonora_ at Vienna, I could notattain that which appeared to me the desired and natural expression atthe moment when _Leonora_, throwing herself before her husband, holdsout a pistol to the Governor, with the words, 'Kill first his wife!'I studied and studied in vain, though I did all in my power to placemyself mentally in the situation of _Leonora_. I had pictured to myselfthe situation, but I felt that it was incomplete, without knowing why orwherefore. Well, the evening arrived; the audience knows not with whatfeelings an artist, who enters seriously into a part, dresses for therepresentation. The nearer the moment approached, the greater was myalarm. When it did arrive, and as I ought to have sung the ominouswords and pointed the pistol at the Governor, I fell into such an uttertremor at the thought of not being perfect in my character, that mywhole frame trembled, and I thought I should have fallen. Now only fancyhow I felt when the whole house broke forth with enthusiastic shouts ofapplause, and what I thought when, after the curtain fell, I wastold that this moment was the most effective and powerful of my wholerepresentation! So, that which I could not attain with every effortof mind and imagination, was produced at this decisive moment by myunaffected terror and anxiety. This result and the effect it had uponthe public taught me how to seize and comprehend the incident, so, that which at the first representation I had hit upon unconsciously, Iadopted in full consciousness ever afterward in this part. "

Not even Malibran could equal her in the impersonation of thischaracter. Never was dramatic performance more completely, moreintensely affecting, more deeply pathetic, truthful, tender, andpowerful. 

Some critics regarded her as far more of the tragedian than the singer. "Her voice, since I have known it, " observes Mr. Chorley, in his "ModernGerman Music, " "was capable of conveying poignant or tender expression, but it was harsh and torn--not so inflexible as incorrect. Mme. Schröder-Devrient resolved to be _par excellence_ 'the German dramaticsinger. ' Earnest and intense as was her assumption of the parts sheattempted, her desire of presenting herself first was little lessvehement: there is no possibility of an opera being performed by acompany, each of whom should be as resolute as she was never to rest, never for an instant to allow the spectator to forget his presence. She cared not whether she broke the flow of the composition by some cryheard on any note or in any scale--by even speaking some word, forwhich she would not trouble herself to study a right musical emphasisor inflection--provided, only, she succeeded in continuing to arrest theattention. Hence, in part, arose her extraordinary success in "Fidelio. "That opera contains, virtually, only one acting character, and with herit rests to intimate the thrilling secret of the whole story, to developthis link by link, in presence of the public, and to give the drama theimportance of terror, suspense, and rapture. When the spell is brokenby exhibiting the agony and the struggle of which she is the innocentvictim, if the devotion, the disguise, and the hope of Leonora, thewife, were not for ever before us, the interest of the prison-operawould flag and wane into a cheerless and incurable melancholy. ThisMme. Schröder-Devrient took care that it should never do. From her firstentry upon the stage, it might be seen that there was a purpose at herheart, which could make the weak strong and the timid brave; quickeningevery sense, nerving every fiber, arming its possessor with disguiseagainst curiosity, with persuasion more powerful than any obstacle, withexpedients equal to every emergency. . . . What Pasta would be in spiteof her uneven, rebellious voice, a most magnificent singer, Mme. Schröder-Devrient did not care to be, though nature, as I have heardfrom those who heard her sing as a girl, had blessed her with a fresh, delicious soprano voice. "

II. 

Her fame so increased that the Fräulein Schröder soon made an art-tourthrough Germany. Her appearances at Cassel in the spring of 1823, insuch characters as _Pamina_ and _Agathe_, produced a great sensation. At Dresden she also evoked a large share of popular enthusiasm, and hername was favorably compared with the greatest lights of the German lyricstage. While singing at this capital she met Carl Devrient, one of theprincipal dramatic tenors of Germany, and, an attachment springing upbetween the pair, they were married. The union did not prove a happyone, and Mme. Schröder-Devrient had bitter occasion to regret that shehad tied her fortunes to a man utterly unworthy of love and respect. She remained for several years at Dresden, and among other operas sheappeared in Weber's "_Euryanthe_, " with Mme. Funk, Herr Berg-mann, andHerr Meyer. She also made a powerful impression on the attention ofboth the critics and the public in Cherubini's "Faniska, " and Spohr's"Jessonda, " both of which operas are not much known out of Germany, though "Faniska" was first produced at the Théâtre Feydeau, in Paris, and contributed largely to the fame of its illustrious composer. Theaustere, noble music is not of a character to please the multitude wholove what is sensational and easily understood. When "Faniska" was firstproduced at the Austrian capital in the winter of 1805, both Haydn andBeethoven were present. The former embraced Cherubini, and said to him, "You are my son, worthy of my love"; while Beethoven cordially hailedhim as "the first dramatic composer of the age. " The opera of "Faniska"is based on a Polish legend of great dramatic beauty, and the unity ofidea and musical color between it and Beethoven's "Fidelio" has oftenexcited the attention of critics. It is perhaps owing to this dramaticsimilarity that Mme. Schröder-De vrient made as much reputation byher performance of it as she had already acquired in Beethoven's lyricmasterpiece. 

In 1828 she went to Prague, and thence to Berlin, where her marriage wasjudicially dissolved, she retaining her guardianship of her son, thenfour years old. Spontini, who was then the musical autocrat of Berlin, conceived a violent dislike to her, and his bitter nature expresseditself in severe and ungenerous sarcasms. But the genius of the singerwas proof against the hostility of the Franco-Italian composer, and theimmense audiences which gathered to hear her interpret the chef-d'ouvresof Weber, whose fame as the great national composer of Germany wasthen at its zenith, proved her strong hold on the hearts of the Germanpeople. Spontini's prejudice was generally attributed to Mme. Devrient'sdislike of his music and her artistic identification with the heroinesof Weber, for whose memory Spontini entertained much the same envioushate as Salieri felt for Mozart in Vienna at an earlier date. 

Our singer's ambition sighed to conquer new worlds, and in 1830 she wentto Paris with a troupe of German singers, headed by Mme. Fischer, atall blonde beauty, with a fresh, charming voice, but utterly Mme. Schrôder-Devrient's inferior in all the requirements of the greatartist. She made her _début_ in May at the Theatre Louvois, as _Agathe_in "Der Freischutz, " and, though excessively agitated, was so impressiveand powerful in the impersonation as to create a great _éclat_. Thecritics were highly pleased with the beauty and finish of her style. She produced the principal parts of her _répertoire_ in "Fidelio, " "DonGiovanni, " Weber's "Oberon" and "Euryanthe, " and Mozart's "Serail. "It was in "Fidelio, " however, that she raised the enthusiasm of heraudiences to the highest pitch. On returning again to Germany sheappeared in opera with Scheckner and Sontag, in Berlin, winning laurelseven at the expense of Mme. Sontag, who was then just on the eve ofretiring from the stage, and who was inspired to her finest efforts asshe was departing from the field of her triumphs. 

Two years later Mme. Schröder-Devrient accepted a proposition made toher by the manager of the Théâtre Italiens to sing in a language anda school for which she was not fully qualified. The season opened withsuch a dazzling constellation of genius as has rarely, if ever, beengathered on any one stage--Pasta, Malibran, Schröder-Devrient, Rubini, Bordogni, and Lablache. Mme. Pasta's illness caused the substitution ofSchröder-Devrient in her place in the opera of "Anna Bolena, " and theresult was disastrous to the German singer. But she retrieved herselfin the same composer's "Pirata, " and her splendid performance cooperatedwith that of Rubini to produce a sensation. It was observed that shequickly accommodated herself to the usages and style of the Italianstage, and soon appeared as if one "to the manner born. " Toward theclose of the engagement Mme. Devrient appeared for Malibran's benefitas _Desdemona_, Rubini being the Moor. Though the Rossinian music is a_genre_ by itself, and peculiarly dangerous to a singer not trained inits atmosphere and method, the German artist sang it with great skilland finish, and showed certain moments of inspiration in its performancewhich electrified her hearers. 

Mme. Schrëder-Devrient's first appearance in England was under themanagement of Mr. Monck Mason, who had leased the King's Theatre inpursuance of a somewhat daring enterprise. A musical and theatricalenthusiast, and himself a composer, though without any experience inthe practical knowledge of management, he projected novel and daringimprovements, and aspired to produce opera on the most extensive andcomplete scale. He engaged an enormous company--not only of Italianand German, but of French singers--and gave performances in all threelanguages. Schröder-Devrient sang in all her favorite operas, and also_Desdemona_, in Italian. Donzelli was the _Otello_, and the performancemade a strong impression on the critics, if not on the public. "We knownot, " wrote one, "how to say enough of Mme. Schrëder-Devrient withoutappearing extravagant, and yet the most extravagant eulogy we couldpen would not come up to our idea of her excellence. She is a womanof first-rate genius; her acting skillful, various, impassioned, hersinging pure, scientific, and enthusiastic. Her whole soul is wrappedin her subject, yet she never for a moment oversteps the modesty ofnature. " It was during this season that Mr. Chorley first heard her. He writes in his "Musical Recollections" a vivid description of herappearance in "Fidelio": "She was a pale woman. Her face, a thoroughlyGerman one, though plain, was pleasing from the intensity of expressionwhich her large features and deep, tender eyes conveyed. She had profusefair hair, the value of which she thoroughly understood, delighting inmoments of great emotion to fling it loose with the wild vehemence ofa Mænad. Her figure was superb, though full, and she rejoiced in itsdisplay. " He also speaks of "the inherent expressiveness of her voicewhich made it more attractive on the stage than a more faultless organ. "Mme. Schröder-Devrient met a warm social welcome in London from thefamily of the great pianist, Moscheles, to whom she was known of old. Mme. Moscheles writes in her diary: "Our interesting guests at dinnerwere the Haizingers, he the admirable tenor singer of whom the Germanopera company here may well be proud, she pretty and agreeable asever; we had, too, our great Schröder and our greater Mendelssohn. Theconversation, of course, was animated, and the two ladies were in suchspirits that they not only told anecdotes, but accompanied them withdramatic gestures; Schröder, when telling us how he (the hero of heranecdote) drew his sword, flourished her knife in a threatening mannertoward Haizinger, and Mendelssohn whispered to me, 'I wonder what John[the footman] thinks of such an English vivacity? To see the brandishingof knives, and not know what it is all about! Only think!'" A comicepisode which occurred during the first performance of "Fidelio" isalso related by the same authority: "In that deeply tragic scene whereMme. Schröder (_Fidelio_) has to give Haizinger (_Florestan_) a piece ofbread which she has kept hidden for him three days in the folds of herdress, he does not respond to the action. She whispers to him with arather coarse epithet: 'Why don't you take it? Do you want it buttered?'All this time, the audience, ignorant of the by-play, was solely intenton the pathetic situation. " This is but one of many instances whichcould be adduced from the annals of the stage showing how the exhibitionof the greatest dramatic passion is consistent with the existence of ajocose, almost cynical, humor on the part of the actors. 

III. 

In the following year (1833), Mme. Schröder-Devrient sang under Mr. Bunn at the Covent Garden Theatre, appearing in several of Weber's andMozart's masterpieces. She was becoming more and more of a favorite withthe English public. The next season she devoted herself again tothe stage of Germany, where she was on the whole best understood andappreciated, her faults more uniformly ignored. She appeared in twelveoperas by native composers in Berlin, and thence went to Vienna and St. Petersburg. She proceeded to Italy in 1835, where she sang for eighteenmonths in the principal cities and theatres of that country, andsucceeded in evoking from the critical Italians as warm a welcome asshe had commanded elsewhere. In one city the people were so enthusiasticthat they unharnessed her horses, and drew her carriage home from thetheatre after her closing performance. Although she never entirelymastered the Italian school, she yet displayed so much intelligence, knowledge, and faculty in her art-work, that all catholic lovers ofmusic recognized her great talents. She appeared again in Vienna in1836, with Mme. Tadolini, Genaro, and Galli, singing in "L'Elisird'Amore, " and works of a similar cast, operas unsuited, one would think, to the peculiar _cachet_ of her genius, but her ability in comic andromantic operas, though never so striking as in grand tragedy, seemed todevelop with practice. 

Her last English engagement was in 1837, opening the season witha performance of "Fidelio" in English. The whole performance waslamentably inferior to that at the Opera-House in 1832. "Norma" wasproduced, Schröder-Devrient being seconded by Wilson, Giubilei, and MissBetts. She was either very ill advised or overconfident, for her "massy"style of singing was totally at variance with the light beauty ofBellini's music. Her conception of the character, however, was in thegrandest style of histrionic art. "The sibyls of Michael Angelo are notmore grand, " exclaimed one critic; "but the vocalization of Pastaand Grisi is wholly foreign to her. " During this engagement, Mme. Schröder-Devrient was often unable to perform, from serious illness. From England she went to the Lower Rhine. 

In 1839 she was at Dresden with Herr Tichatschek, one of the firsttenors of Germany, a handsome man, with a powerful, sweet, and extensivevoice. In June, 1841, she gave a performance at Berlin, to assist theParisian subscription for a monument to Cherubini. The opera was "LesDeux Journées, " in which she took her favorite part of _Constance_. Thesame year she sang at Dresden with the utmost success, in a new _rôle_in Goethe's "Tasso, " in which she was said to surpass her _Fidelio_. Forseveral years Mme. Schröder-Devrient resided in perfect seclusion in thelittle town of Rochlitz, and appeared to have forgotten all her stageambition. Suddenly, however, she made her reappearance at Dresden in the_rôle_ of _Romeo_ in Bellini's "I Montecchi ed i Capuletti. " She hadlost a good deal of her vocal power and skill, yet her audiences seemedto be moved by the same magic glamour as of old, in consequence of hermagnificent acting. Among other works in which she performed during thisclosing operatic season of her life was Gluck's "Iphigenie en Aulis, "which was especially revived for her. Johanna Wagner, the sister ofthe great composer, was also in the cast, and a great enthusiasmwas created by a general stage presentation of almost unparalleledcompleteness for that time. 

Mme. Devrient retired permanently from the stage in the year 1849, having amassed a considerable fortune by her professional efforts. Shemade a second matrimonial venture with a rich Livonian proprietor namedBock, with whom she retired to his estate. Her retirement occasionedprofound regret throughout Germany, where she was justly looked on asone of the very greatest artists, if, indeed, even this reservationcould be made, who had ever shone on their lyric stage. The EmperorFrancis I. Paid Mme. Schröder a compliment which had never before beenpaid to a German singer. He ordered her portrait to be painted in allher principal characters, and placed in the collection of the ImperialMuseum. Six years after her farewell from the stage, an Italian critic, Scudo, heard her sing in a private house in Paris, and speaks verydisparagingly of her delivery of the melodies of Schubert in a weak, thin voice. She, like Malibran, possessed one of those voices whichneeded incessant work and practice to keep it in good order, though shedid not possess the consummate musical knowledge and skill of Malibran. She was a woman of great intelligence and keen observation; an artist ofthe most passionate ardor and impetuosity, always restrained, however, by a well-studied control and reserve; in a word, a great lyrictragedienne rather than a great singer in the exact sense of that word. She must be classed with that group of dramatic singers who were theinterpreters of the school of music which arose in Germany after thedeath of Mozart, and which found its most characteristic type in CarlMaria von Weber, for Beethoven, who on one side belongs to this school, rather belonged to the world, like Shakespeare in the drama, than to asingle nationality. Mme. Schröder-De-vrient died February 9, 1860, at Cologne, and the following year her marble bust was placed in theOpera-House at Berlin. 

GIULIA GRISI. 

The Childhood of a Great Artist. --Giulietta Grisi's Early MusicalTraining. --Giuditta Grisi's Pride in the Talents of her YoungSister. --Her Italian _Début_ and Success. --She escapes from a ManagerialTaskmaster and takes Refuge in Paris. --Impression made on FrenchAudiences. --Production of Bellini's "Puritani. "--Appearance before theLondon Public. --Character of Grisi's Singing and Acting. --Anecdotes ofthe Prima Donna. --Marriage of Mlle. Grisi. --Her Connection withOther Distinguished Singers. --Rubini, his Character as an Artist, andIncidents of his Life. --Tamburini, another Member of the First Great"Puritani" Quartet. --Lablache, the King of Operatic Bassos. --His Careeras an Artist. --His Wonderful Genius as Singer and Actor. --Advent ofMario on the Stage. --His Intimate Association with Mme. Grisi asWoman and Artist. --Incidents of Mario's Life and Character as anArtist. --Grisi's Long Hold on the Stage for more than a QuarterCentury. --Her American Tour. --Final Retirement from her Profession. --TheElements of her Greatness as a Goddess of Song. 

I. 

A quarter of a century is a long reign for any queen, a brilliant onefor an opera queen in these modern days, when the "wear and tear" ofstage-life is so exacting. For so long a time lasted the supremacyof Mme. Grisi, and it was justified by a remarkable combination ofqualities, great physical loveliness, a noble voice, and dramaticimpulse, which, if not precisely inventive, was yet large andsympathetic. A celebrated English critic sums up her great qualitiesand her defects thus: "As an artist calculated to engage, and retainthe average public, without trick or affectation, and to satisfy by herbalance of charming attributes--by the assurance, moreover, that she wasgiving the best she knew how to give--she satisfied even those who hadreceived much deeper pleasure and had been impressed with much deeperemotion in the performances of others. I have never tired of Mme. Grisiduring five-and-twenty years; but I have never been in her case underone of those spells of intense enjoyment and sensation which make anepoch in life, and which leave a print on memory never to be effaced byany later attraction, never to be forgotten so long as life and power toreceive shall endure. "

Giulietta Grisi was the younger daughter of M. Gaetano Grisi, an Italianofficer of engineers, in the service of Napoleon, and was born at Milan, July 2, 1812. Her mother's sister was the once celebrated Grassini, who, as the contemporary of Mrs. Billington and Mme. Mara, had shared theadmiration of Europe with these great singers. Thence probably she andher sister Giuditta, ten years her elder, inherited their gift of song. Giuditta was for a good while regarded as a prodigy by her friends, andacquired an excellent rank on the concert and operatic stage, but shewas so far outshone by her more gifted sister, that her name is nowonly one of the traditions of that throng of talented and hard-workingartists who have contributed much to the stability of the lyric stage, without adding to it any resplendent luster. Delicate health preventedthe little Giulia from receiving any early musical training, but her ownsecret ambition caused her to learn the piano-forte, by her own efforts;and her enthusiastic attention, and attempt to imitate, while her sisterwas practicing _solfeggi_, clearly indicated the bent of her tastes. Shesoon astonished her family by the fluency and correctness with whichshe repeated the most difficult passages; and Giuditta, who appreciatedthese evidences of vocal and mimetic talent, would listen with delightto the lively efforts of her young sister, and then, clasping her fondlyin her arms, prophesy that she would be "the glory of her race. " "Thoushalt be more than thy sister, my Giuliettina, " she would exclaim. "Thoushalt be more than thy aunt! It is Giuditta tells thee so--believeit. " The only defect in Giulia's voice--certainly a serious one--was achronic hoarseness, which seemed a bar to her advancement as a vocalist. 

Her parents resolved that Giulia should have regular lessons in singing;and she entered the Conservatory of her native town, where her sisterhad also obtained her musical training. The early talent she developed, under the direction of the composer Marliani, was remarkable. That shemight continue her studies uninterruptedly, she was sent to Bologna, to her uncle, Colonel Ragani, husband of Grassini, by whom she was putunder the care of the learned Giacomo Guglielmi, son of the celebratedcomposer, who during three years devoted himself entirely to hermusical education. Gradually the lovely quality of her voice began tobe manifest, and its original blemishes disappeared, her tones acquiringdepth, power, and richness. 

Giuditta was deeply interested in her young sister's budding talents, and finally took her from the Conservatory, and placed her under thetuition of Fillippo Celli, where she remained for three months, till the_maestro_ was obliged to go to Rome to produce a new opera. GiuliaGrisi was remarkably apt and receptive, and gifted with great musicalintelligence, and she profited by her masters in an exceptional degree. Industry cooperated with talent to so advance her attainments that hersister Giuditta succeeded in the year 1828 in securing her _début_ inRossini's "Elmira, " at Bologna. The part was a small one, but the youth, loveliness, and freshness of voice displayed by the young singersecured for her a decided triumph. Rossini, who was then at Bologna, wasdelighted with Giulia Grisi, and predicted a great career for her, andGiuditta shed tears of joy over her beloved _protégée_. The director ofthe theatre engaged her immediately for the carnival season, and in1829 she appeared as prima donna in many operas, among which were "IlBarbiere, " "Towaldo e Dorliska, " and "La Sposa di Provincia, " the latterof which was expressly written for her by Millotatti. 

Our young singer, like many another brilliant cantatrice, in the verydawn of her great career fell into the nets of a shrewd and unprincipledoperatic speculator. Signor Lanari, an _impressario_ of Florence, recognized the future success of the inexperienced young girl, anddecoyed her into an engagement for six years on terms shamefully low, for Giulia's modesty did not appreciate her own remarkable powers. Alone and without competent advisers, she fell an easy prey to thesharp-witted farmer of other people's genius. Among the operas which shesung in at this early period under Lanari's management were Bellini's "IMontecchi ed i Capuletti, " which the composer had just written for hersister Giuditta at Venice; "Il Barbiere, " and "Giulietta e Romeo, "written by Vaccai. She was pronounced by the Italians the mostfascinating _Juliet_ ever seen on the stage. At Bologna her triumphwas no less great, and she became the general topic of discussion andadmiration. Lanari was so profiting by his stroke of sharp businessthat he was making a little fortune, and he now transferred his musicalproperty for a large consideration to Signor Crevelli, the director ofLa Scala at Milan. Here Julia Grisi met Pasta, whom she worshiped as amodel of all that was grand and noble in the lyric art. Pasta declared, "I can honestly return to you the compliments paid me by your aunt, andsay that I believe you are worthy to succeed us. " Here she enjoyedthe advantage of studying the great lyric tragedienne, with whom sheoccasionally performed: not a look, a tone, a gesture of her great modelescaped her. She was given the part of _Jane Seymour_ in Donizetti's"Anna Bolena, " which she looked and acted to perfection, Pastapersonating the unfortunate Queen. Madame Pasta, struck with the geniusdisplayed by her young rival, exclaimed: "_Tu iras loin! tu prendras maplace! tu seras Pasta!_" Bellini, who was then in Milan, engaged inthe composition of his "Norma, " overwhelmed her with applause andcongratulations, intermingled with allusions to the part he had incontemplation for her--that of _Adalgiza_. 

In November, 1831, there was a strenuous rivalry between the twotheatres of Milan, La Scala and the Carcano. The vocal company at thelatter comprised Pasta, Lina Koser (now Mme. Balfe), Elisa Orlandi, Eugénie Martinet, and other ladies; Kubini, Mariani, and Galli beingthe leading male singers. The composers were Bellini, Donizetti, andMajocchi. At the Scala, which was still under the direction of Crivelli, then a very old man, were Giulietta Grisi, Amalia Schütz, and Pisaroni, with Mari, Bonfigli, Pocchini, Anbaldi, etc. To this company GiudittaGrisi was added, and a new opera by Coccia, entitled "Enrico diMontfort, " was produced, in which both the sisters appeared. The companyat the Scala received an accession from the rival theatre, the greatPasta, and soon afterward Donzelli, who ranked among the foremost tenorsof the age. 

Bellini had just completed "Norma, " and it was to be produced at theScala. The part of the Druid priestess had been expressly written forPasta. This Bellini considered his masterpiece. It is related that abeautiful Parisienne attempted to extract from his reluctant lips hispreference among his own works. The persistent fair one finally overcamehis evasions by asking, "But if you were out at sea, and should beshipwrecked--" "Ah!" said the composer, impulsively, "I would leave allthe rest and save 'Norma'"! With Pasta were associated Giulia Grisiin the _rôle_ of _Adalgiza_, and Donzelli in _Pollio_. The singersrehearsed their parts _con amore_, and displayed so much intelligenceand enthusiasm that Bellini was quite delighted. The first performancejust escaped being a failure in spite of the anxious efforts of thesingers. Donzelli's suave and charming execution, even "Casta Diva, "delivered by Pasta in her most magnificent style, failed to move thecold audience. Pasta, at the end of the first act, declared the newopera _a fiasco_. The second act was also coldly received till the greatduet between _Norma_ and _Adalgiza_, which was heartily applauded. Thisunsealed the pent-up appreciation of the audience, and thenceforward"Norma" was received with thunders of applause for forty nights. 

Encouraged by Pasta, Giulia Grisi declared that she, too, would become agreat tragedienne. "How I should love to play _Norma!_" she exclaimedto Bellini one night behind the scenes. "Wait twenty years, and we shallsee. " "I will play _Norma_ in spite of you, and in less than twentyyears!" she retorted. The young man smiled incredulously, and muttered, "_A poco! a poco!_" But Grisi kept her word. 

Her genius was now fully appreciated, and she had obtained one of thosetriumphs which form the basis of a great renown. With astonishing easeshe passed from _Semiramide_ to _Anna Bolena_, then to _Desdemona_, to_Donna Anna_, to _Elena_ in the "Donna del Lago. "

The young artiste had learned her true value, and was aware of theinjury she was suffering from remaining in the service to which she hadfoolishly bound herself: she was now twenty-four, and time was passingaway. Her father's repeated endeavors to obtain more reasonable termsfor his daughter from Lanari proved fruitless. He urged that hisdaughter, having entered into the contract without his knowledge, andwhile she was a minor, it was illegal. "Then, if you knew absolutelynothing of the matter, and it was altogether without your cognizance, "retorted Lanari, imperturbably, "how did it happen that her salary wasalways paid to you?"

But the high-spirited Giulietta had now become too conscious of herown value to remain hampered by a contract which in its essence wasfraudulent. She determined to break her bonds by flight to Paris, where her sister Giuditta and her aunt Mme. Grassini-Ragani were thendomiciled. She confided her proposed escapade to her father and her oldteacher Marliani, who assisted her to procure passports for herselfand maid. Her journey was long and tedious, but, spurred by fear andeagerness, she disdained fatigue for seven days of post-riding overbad roads and through mountain-gorges choked with snow, till she threwherself into the arms of her loving friends in the French capital. 

II. 

An engagement was procured for her without difficulty at the Opéra, which was then controlled by the triumvirate, Rossini, Robert, andSeverini. Rossini remembered the beautiful _débutante_ for whom he hadpredicted a splendid future, and secured a definite engagement forher at the Favart to replace Mme. Malibran. That this young andcomparatively inexperienced girl, with a reputation hardly known out ofItaly, should have been chosen to take the place of the great Malibran, was alike flattering testimony to her own rising genius andRossini's penetration. She appeared first before a French audience in"_Semiramide_, " and at once became a favorite. During the season ofsix months she succeeded in establishing her place as one of the mostbrilliant singers of the age. She sang in cooperation with many of theforemost artists whose names are among the great traditions of the art. In "Don Giovanni, " Rubini and Tamburini appeared with her; in "AnnaBolena, " Mme. Tadolini, Santini, and Rubini. Even in Pasta's own greatcharacters, where Mlle. Grisi was measured against the greatest lyrictragedienne of the age, the critics, keen to probe the weak spot of newaspirants, found points of favorable comparison in Grisi's favor. Duringthis year, 1832, both Giuditta and Giulia Grisi retired from the stage, the former to marry an Italian gentleman of wealth, and the latter todevote a period to rest and study. 

When Giulia reappeared on the French stage the following year, awonderful improvement in the breadth and finish of her art was noticed. She had so improved her leisure that she had eradicated certainminor faults of vocal delivery, and stood confessed a symmetrical andsplendidly equipped artist. Her performances during the year 1833 inParis embraced a great variety of characters, and in different stylesof music, in all of which she was the recipient of the most cordialadmiration. 

The production of Bellini's last opera, "I Puritani, " in 1834, was oneof the great musical events of the age, not solely in virtue of thebeauty of the work, but on account of the very remarkable quartetwhich embodied the principal characters--Grisi, Rubini, Tamburini, andLa-blache. This quartet continued in its perfection for many years, with the after-substitution of Mario for Rubini, and was one of themost notable and interesting facts in the history of operatic music. Bellini's extraordinary skill in writing music for the voice was nevermore noticeably shown than in this opera. In conducting the rehearsals, he compelled the singers to execute after his style. It is recordedthat, while Rubini was rehearsing the tenor part, the composer cried outin a rage: "You put no life into the music. Show some feeling. Don't youknow what love is?" Then, changing his voice: "Don't you know yourvoice is a gold-mine that has never been explored? You are an excellentartist, but that is not enough. You must forget yourself and try torepresent _Gualtiero_. Let's try again. " Rubini, stung by the reproach, then sang magnificently. "I Puritan!" made a great _furore_ in Paris, and the composer received the Cross of the Legion of Honor, an honorthen less rarely bestowed than it was in after-years. He did not livelong to enjoy the fruits of his widening reputation, but died whilecomposing a new opera for the San Carlo, Naples. In the delirium of hisdeath-bed, he fancied he was at the Favart, conducting a performance of"I Puritani. " Mlle. Grisi's first appearance before the London publicoccurred during the spring of the same year, and her great personalloveliness and magnificent voice as _Ninetta_, in "La Gazza Ladra, "instantly enslaved the English operatic world, a worship which lastedunbroken for many years. Her _Desdemona_ in "Otello, " which shortlyfollowed her first opera, was supported by Rubini as _Otello_, Tamburinias _Iago_, and Ivanhoff as _Rodriguez_. It may be doubted whether anysinger ever leaped into such instant and exalted favor in London, wherethe audiences are habitually cold. 

Her appearance as _Norma_ in December, 1834, stamped this henceforth asher greatest performance. "In this character, Grisi, " says a writer inthe "Musical World, " "is not to be approached, for all those attributeswhich have given her her best distinction are displayed therein in theirfullest splendor. Her singing may be rivaled, but hardly her embodimentof ungovernable and vindictive emotion. There are certain parts in thelyric drama of Italy this fine artiste has made her own: this is oneof the most striking, and we have a faith in its unreachablesuperiority--in its completeness as a whole--that is not to bedisturbed. Her delivery of 'Casta Diva' is a transcendent effortof vocalization. In the scene where she discovers the treachery of_Pollio_, and discharges upon his guilty head a torrent of withering andindignant reproof, she exhibits a power, bordering on the sublime, whichbelongs exclusively to her, giving to the character of the insultedpriestess a dramatic importance which would be remarkable even ifentirely separated from the vocal preeminence with which it is allied. But, in all its aspects, the performance is as near perfection as rareand exalted genius can make it, and the singing of the actress and theacting of the singer are alike conspicuous for excellence and power. Whether in depicting the quiet repose of love, the agony of abusedconfidence, the infuriate resentment of jealousy, or the influenceof feminine piety, there is always the best reason for admiration, accompanied in the more tragic moments with that sentiment of awe whichgreatness of conception and vigor of execution could alone suggest. "

Mr. Chorley writes, in his "Musical Reminiscences": "Though naturallyenough in some respects inexperienced on her first appearance inEngland, Giulia Grisi was not incomplete. And what a soprano voice washers! rich, sweet; equal throughout its compass of two octaves (fromC to C), without a break or a note which had to be managed. Her voicesubdued the audience ere 'Dipiacer' was done. . . . In 1834 she commandedan exactness of execution not always kept up by her during theafter-years of her reign. Her shake was clear and rapid; her scales werecertain; every interval was taken without hesitation by her. Nor hasany woman ever more thoroughly commanded every gradation of force thanshe--in those early days especially; not using the contrast of loudand soft too violently, but capable of any required violence, of anyadvisable delicacy. In the singing of certain slow movements pianissimo, such as the girl's prayer on the road to execution, in 'La Gazza, ' oras the cantabile in the last scene of 'Anna Bolena' (which we know as'Home, Sweet Home'), the clear, penetrating beauty of her reduced tones(different in quality from the whispering semi-ventriloquism which wasone of Mlle. Lind's most favorite effects) was so unique as to reconcilethe ear to a certain shallowness of expression in her rendering of thewords and the situation. 

"At that time the beauty of sound was more remarkable (in such passagesas I have just spoken of) than the depth of feeling. When the passionof the actress was roused--as in 'La Gazza, ' during the scene with herdeserter father--with the villainous magistrate, or in the prison withher lover, or on her trial before sentence was passed--her gloriousnotes, produced without difficulty or stint, rang through the house likea clarion, and were truer in their vehemence to the emotion of the scenethan were those wonderfully subdued sounds, in the penetrating tenuityof which there might be more or less artifice. From the first, the vigoralways went more closely home to the heart than the tenderness in hersinging; and her acting and her vocal delivery--though the beauty of herface and voice, the mouth that never distorted itself, the sounds thatnever wavered, might well mislead an audience--were to be resisted bynone. "

Henceforward, Mlle. Grisi alternated between London and Paris for manyyears, her great fame growing with the ripening years. Of course, she, like other beautiful singers, was the object of passionate addresses, and the ardent letters sent to her hotel and dressing-room at thetheatre occasioned her much annoyance. Many unpleasant episodesoccurred, of which the following is an illustration, as showing thepersecution to which stage celebrities are often subjected: While shewas in her stage-box at the Paris Opera one night, in the winter of1836, she observed an unfortunate admirer, who had pursued her formonths, lying in ambuscade near the door, as if awaiting her exit. M. Robert, one of the managers, requested the intruder to retire, and, asthe admonition was unheeded, Colonel Ragani, Grisi's uncle, somewhatsternly remonstrated with him. The reckless lover drew a sword from acane, and would have run Colonel Ragani through, had it not been for thecoolness of a gentleman passing in the lobby, who seized and disarmedthe amorous maniac, who was a young author of some repute, namedDupuzet. Anecdotes of a similar kind might be enumerated, for Grisi'swomanly fascinations made havoc among that large class who become easilyenamored of the goddesses of the theatre. 

Like all the greatest singers, Grisi was lavishly generous. She hadoften been known to sing in five concerts in one day for charitablepurposes. At one of the great York festivals in England, she refused, asa matter of professional pride, to sing for less than had been givento Malibran, but, to show that there was nothing ignoble in herpersistence, she donated all the money received to the poor. Sherendered so many services to the Westminster Hospital that she was madean honorary governor of that institution, and in manifold ways provedthat the goodness of her heart was no whit less than the splendor of herartistic genius. 

The marriage of Mlle. Grisi, in the spring of 1830, to M. Auguste Gérardde Melcy, a French gentleman of fortune, did not deprive the stageof one of its greatest ornaments, for after a short retirement at thebeautiful château of Vaucresson, which she had recently purchased, sheagain resumed the operatic career which had so many fascinations for oneof her temperament, as well as substantial rewards. Her first appearancein London after her marriage was with Rubini and Tamburini in the operaof "Semiramide, " speedily followed by a performance of _Donna Anna_, in"Don Giovanni. " The excitement of the public in its eager anticipationof the latter opera was wrought to the highest pitch. A great throngpressed against both entrances of the theatre for hours before theopening of the doors, and many ladies were severely bruised or faintedin the crush. It was estimated that more than four thousand persons werepresent on this occasion. The cast was a magnificent one. Mme. Grisi wassupported by Mmes. Persiani and Albertazzi, and Tamburini, Lablache, andRubini. This was hailed as one of the great gala nights in the musicalrecords of London, and it is said that only a few years ago oldconnoisseurs still talked of it as something incomparable, in spite ofthe gifted singers who had since illustrated the lyric art. Mme. Pasta, who occupied a stage box, led the applause whenever her beautiful youngrival appeared, and Grisi, her eyes glowing with happy tears, went toPasta's box to thank the queen of lyric tragedy for her cordial homage. 

"Don Giovanni" was performed with the same cast in January, 1838, at theThéâtre Italiens. About an hour after the close of the performance thebuilding was discovered to be on fire, and it was soon reduced to a heapof glowing ashes. Severini, one of the directors, leaped from an upperstory, and was instantly dashed to pieces, and Robert narrowly savedhimself by aid of a rope ladder. Rossini, who had an apartment in theopera-house, was absent, but the whole of his musical library, valued attwo hundred thousand francs, was destroyed, with many rare manuscripts, which no effort or expense could replace. 

III. 

Mme. Grisi, more than any other prima donna who ever lived, washabitually associated in her professional life with the greatest singersof the other sex. Among those names which are inseparable from hers, arethose of Rubini, Tamburini, Lablache, and, _par excellence_, that ofMario. Any satisfactory sketch of her life and artistic surroundingswould be incomplete without something more than a passing notice ofthese shining lights of the lyric art. Giambattista Rubini, withouta shred of dramatic genius, raised himself to the very first place incontemporary estimation by sheer genius as a singer, for his musicalskill was something more than the outcome of mere knowledge andexperience, and in this respect he bears a close analogy to Malibran. Rubini's countenance was mean, his figure awkward, and lacking inall dignity of carriage; he had no conception of taste, character, orpicturesque effect. As stolid as a wooden block in all that appertainsto impersonation of character, his vocal organ was so incomparable inrange and quality, his musical equipment and skill so great, that hismemory is one of the greatest traditions of the lyric art. 

Rubini, born at Bergamo in the year 1795, made his _début_ in one of thetheatres of his native town, at the age of twelve, in a woman's part. This curious prima donna afterward sat at the door of the theatre, between two candles, holding a plate, in which the admiring publicdeposited their offerings to the fair _bénéficiaire_. His next step wasplaying on the violin in the orchestra between the acts of comedies, andsinging in the chorus during the operatic season. He seems to have beenunnoticed, except as one of the _hoi polloi_ of the musical rabble, till an accident attracted attention to his talent. A drama was to beproduced in which a very difficult cavatina was introduced. The managerwas at a loss for any one to sing it till Rubini proffered his services. The fee was a trifling one, but it paved the way for an engagement inthe minor parts of opera. The details of Rubini's early life seem tobe involved in some obscurity. He was engaged in several wanderingcompanies as second tenor, and in 1814, Rubini then being nineteen yearsof age, we find him singing at Pavia for thirty-six shillings a month. In the latter part of his career he was paid twenty thousand poundssterling a year for his services at the St. Petersburg ImperialOpera. This singer acquired his vocal style, which his contemporariespronounced to be matchless, in the operas of Rossini, and was indebtedto no special technical training, except that which he receivedthrough his own efforts, and the incessant practice of the lyric art inprovincial companies. A splendid musical intelligence, however, repairedthe lack of early teaching, though, perhaps, a voice less perfect initself would have fared badly through such desultory experiences. Likeso many of the great singers of the modern school, Rubini first gainedhis reputation in the operas of Bellini and Donizetti, and many of thetenor parts of these works were expressly composed for him. Rubini wassinging at the Scala, Milan, when Barbaja, the _impressario_, who hadheard Bellini's opera of "Bianca e Fernando, " at Naples, commissionedthe young composer, then only twenty years old, to produce a new operafor his theatre in the Tuscan capital. He gave him the libretto of"Il Pirata, " and Bellini, in company with Rubini (for they had becomeintimate friends), retired to the country. Here the singer studied, as they were produced, the simple, touching airs which he afterwarddelivered on the stage with such admirable expression. With thisfriendship began Rubini's art connection with the Italian composer, which lasted till the latter's too early death. Rubini was such a greatsinger, and possessed such admirable powers of expression, especiallyin pathetic airs (for it was well said of him, "_qu'il avait des larmesdans la voix_"), that he is to be regarded as the creator of that styleof singing which succeeded that of the Rossinian period. The floridschool of vocalization had been carried to an absurd excess, when Rubinishowed by his example what effect he could produce by singing melodiesof a simple emotional nature, without depending at all on merevocalization. It is remarkable that it was largely owing to Rubini'ssuggestions and singing that Bellini made his first great success, andthat Donizetti's "Anna Bolena, " also the work which laid the foundationof this composer's greatness, should have been written and producedunder similar conditions. 

The immense power, purity, and sweetness of his voice probably havenever been surpassed. The same praise may be awarded to his method ofproducing his tones, and all that varied and complicated skill whichcomes under the head of vocalization. Rubini had a chest of uncommonbigness, and the strength of his lungs was so prodigious that on oneoccasion he broke his clavicle in singing a B flat. The circumstanceswere as follows: He was singing at La Scala, Milan, in Pacini's"Talismano. " In the recitative which accompanies the entrance ofthe tenor in this opera, the singer has to attack B flat withoutpreparation, and hold it for a long time. Since Farinelli's celebratedtrumpet-song, no feat had ever attained such a success as this wonderfulnote of Rubini's. It was received nightly with tremendous enthusiasm. One night the tenor planted himself in his usual attitude, inflated hischest, opened his mouth; but the note would not come. _Os liabet, sednon clambit_. He made a second effort, and brought all the force ofhis lungs into play. The note pealed out with tremendous power, but thevictorious tenor felt that some of the voice-making mechanism had givenway. He sang as usual through the opera, but discovered on examinationafterward that the clavicle was fractured. Rubini had so distended hislungs that they had broken one of their natural barriers. Rubini's voicewas an organ of prodigious range by nature, to which his own skill hadadded several highly effective notes. His chest range, it is asserted byFetis, covered two octaves from C to C, which was carried up to F in the_voce di testa_. With such consummate skill was the transition to thefalsetto managed that the most delicate and alert ear could not detectthe change in the vocal method. The secret of this is believed to havebegun and died with Rubini. Perhaps, indeed, it was incommunicable, theresult of some peculiarity of vocal machinery. 

From what has been said of Rubini's lack of dramatic talent, it may berightfully inferred, as was the fact, that he had but little power inmusical declamation. Rubini was always remembered by his songs, andthough the extravagance of embroidery, the roulades and cadenzas withwhich he ornamented them, oftentimes raised a question as to his taste, the exquisite pathos and simplicity with which he could sing when heelected were incomparable. This artist was often tempted by his owntranscendant powers of execution to do things which true criticismwould condemn, but the ease with which he overcame the greatest vocaldifficulties excused for his admirers the superabundance of thesedisplays. In addition to the great finish of his art, his genialityof expression was not to be resisted. He so thoroughly and intenselyenjoyed his own singing that he communicated this persuasion to hisaudiences. Rubini would merely walk through a large portion of an operawith indifference, but, when his chosen moment arrived, there were suchpassion, fervor, and putting forth of consummate vocal art and emotionthat his hearers hung breathless on the notes of his voice. As thesinger of a song in opera, no one, according to his contemporaries, everequaled him. According to Chorley, his "songs did not so much create asuccess for him as an ecstasy of delight in those that heard him. Themixture of musical finish with excitement which they displayed has neverbeen equaled within such limits or on such conditions as the careerof Rubini afforded. He ruled the stage by the mere art of singing morecompletely than any one--man or woman--has been able to do in my time. "Rubini died in 1852, and left behind him one of the largest fortunesever amassed on the stage. 

Another member of the celebrated "Puritani" quartet was SignorTamburini. His voice was a bass in quality, with a barytone range of twooctaves, from F to F, rich, sweet, extensive, and even. His powers ofexecution were great, and the flexibility with which he used his voicecould only be likened to the facility of a skillful 'cello performer. Hecombined largeness of style, truth of accent, florid embellishment, and solidity. His acting, alike in tragedy and comedy, was spiritedand judicious, though it lacked the irresistible strokes of spontaneousgenius, the flashes of passion, or rich drollery which made Lablache sogrand an actor, or, in a later time, redeemed the vocal imperfections ofRonconi. An amusing instance of Taniburini's vocal skill and wealth ofartistic resources, displayed in his youth, was highly characteristic ofthe man. He was engaged at Palermo during the Carnival season of 1822, and on the last night the audience attended the theatre, inspired by themost riotous spirit of carnivalesque revelry. Large numbers of themcame armed with drums, trumpets, shovels, tin pans, and other charivariinstruments. Tamburini, finding himself utterly unable to make hisordinary _basso cantante_ tones heard amid this Saturnalian din, determined to sing his music in the falsetto, and so he commenced in thevoice of a _soprano sfogato_. The audience were so amazed that theylaid aside their implements of musical torture, and began to listen withamazement, which quickly changed to delight. Taniburini's falsetto wasof such purity, so flexible and precise in florid execution, that he wassoon applauded enthusiastically. The cream of the joke, though, wasyet to come. The poor prima donna was so enraged and disgusted by thehorse-play of the audience that she fled from the theatre, and the poormanager was at his wit's end, for the humor of the people was suchthat it was but a short step between rude humor and destructive rage. Tamburini solved the problem ingeniously, for he donned the fugitive'ssatin dress, clapped her bonnet over his wig, and appeared on the stagewith a mincing step, just as the rioters, impatient at the delay, wereabout to carry the orchestral barricade by storm. Never was seen sounique a soprano, such enormous hands and feet. He courtesied, one handon his heart, and pretended to wipe away tears of gratitude with theother at the clamorous reception he got. He sang the soprano scoreadmirably, burlesquing it, of course, but with marvelous expression andfar greater powers of execution than the prima donna herself could haveshown. The difficult problem to solve, however, was the duet singing. But this Tamburini, too, accomplished, singing the part of _Elisa_in falsetto, and that of the _Count_ in his own natural tones. Thiswonderful exhibition of artistic resources carried the opera to atriumphant close, amid the wild cheers of the audience, and probablysaved the manager the loss of no little property. 

But, greatest of all, perhaps the most wonderful artist among men thatever appeared in opera, was Lablache. Position and training did much forhim, but an all-bounteous Nature had done more, for never in her mostlavish moods did she more richly endow an artistic organization. LuigiLablache was born at Naples, December 6, 1794, of mixed Irish andFrench parentage, and probably this strain of Hibernian blood was partlyresponsible for the rich drollery of his comic humor. Young Lablache wasplaced betimes in the Conservatorio della San Sebastiano, and studiedthe elements of music thoroughly, as his instruction covered not merelysinging, but the piano, the violin, and violoncello. It is believedthat, had his vocal endowments not been so great, he could have becomea leading _virtuoso_ on any instrument he might have selected. Havingat length completed his musical education, he was engaged at the age ofeighteen as _buffo_ at the San Carlino theatre at Naples. Shortly afterhis _début_, Lablache married Teresa Pinotti, the daughter of aneminent actor, and found in this auspicious union the most wholesomeand powerful influence of his life. The young wife recognized the greatgenius of her husband, and speedily persuaded him to retire from such anarrow sphere. Lablache devoted a year to the serious study of singing, and to emancipating himself from the Neapolitan patois which up tothis time had clung to him, after which he became primo basso at thePalermitan opera. He was now twenty, and his voice had become developedinto that suave and richly toned organ, such as was never bestowed onanother man, ranging two octaves from E flat below to E flat above thebass stave. An offer from the manager of La Scala, Milan, gratifiedhis ambition, and he made his _début_ in 1817 as Dandini in "LaCenerentola. " His splendid singing and acting made him brilliantlysuccessful; but Lablache was not content with this. His industryand attempts at improvement were incessant. In fact this singer wasremarkable through life, not merely for his professional ambition, butthe zeal with which he sought to enlarge his general stores of knowledgeand culture. M. Scudo, in his agreeable recollections of Italiansingers, informs us that at Naples Lablache had enjoyed the friendshipand teaching of Mme. Mericoffre (a rich banker's wife), known in Italyas La Cottellini, one of the finest artists of the golden age ofItalian singing. Mme. Lablache, too, was a woman of genius in her way, and her husband owed much to her intelligent and watchful criticism. The fume of Lablache speedily spread through Europe. He sang in all theleading Italian cities with equal success, and at Vienna, whither hewent in 1824, his admirers presented him with a magnificent gold medalwith a most flattering inscription. 

He returned again to Naples after an absence of twelve years, andcreated a grand sensation at the San Carlo by his singing of _Assur_, in "Semiramide. " The Neapolitans loaded him with honors, and sought toretain him in his native city, but this "pent-up Utica" could not holda man to whom the most splendid rewards of his profession were offeringthemselves. Lablache made his first appearance in London, in 1830, in"Il Matrimonio Segreto, " and almost from his first note and first stephe took an irresistible hold on the English public, which lasted fornearly a quarter of a century. It perplexed his admirers whether he wasgreater as a singer or as an actor. We are told that he "was gifted withpersonal beauty to a rare degree. A grander head was never more grandlyset on human shoulders; and in his case time and the extraordinary andunwieldy corpulence which came with time seemed only to improve theJupiter features, and to enhance their expression of majesty, orsweetness, or sorrow, or humor as the scene demanded. " His very tallfigure prevented his bulk from appearing too great. One of his bootswould have made a small portmanteau, and one could have clad a childin one of his gloves. So great was his strength that as _Leporello_he sometimes carried off under one arm a singer of large staturerepresenting _Masetto_, and in rehearsal would often for exercisehold a double bass out at arm's length. The force of his voice wasso prodigious that he could make himself heard above any orchestralthunders or chorus, however gigantic. This power was rarely putforth, but at the right time and place it was made to peal out with aresistless volume, and his portentous notes rang through the houselike the boom of a great bell. It was said that his wife was sometimesaroused at night by what appeared to be the fire tocsin, only todiscover that it was her recumbent husband producing these bell-likesounds in his sleep. The vibratory power of his full voice was so greatthat it was dangerous for him to sing in a greenhouse. 

Like so many of the foremost artists, Lablachc shone alike in comic andtragic parts. Though he sang successfully in all styles of musicand covered a great dramatic versatility, the parts in which he waspeculiarly great were _Leporello_ in "Don Giovanni"; the _Podesta_ in"La Gazza Ladra"; _Geronimo_ in "Il Matrimonio Segreto"; _Caliban_ inHalévy's "Tempest"; _Gritzonko_ in "L'Etoile du Nord"; _Henry VIII_ in"Anna Bolena"; the _Doge_ in "Marino Faliero"; _Oroveso_ in "Norma";and _Assur_ in "Semiramide. " In thus selecting certain characters asthose in which Lablache was unapproachably great, it must be understoodthat he "touched nothing which he did not adorn. " It has been franklyconceded even among the members of his own profession, where envy, calumny, and invidious sneers so often belittle the judgment, thatLablache never performed a character which he did not make moredifficult for those that came after him, by elevating its ideal andgrasping new possibilities in its conception. 

Lablache sang in London and Paris for many years successively, and hisfame grew to colonial proportions. In 1828 his terms were forty thousandfrancs and a benefit, for four months. A few years later, Laporte, ofLondon, paid Robert, of Paris, as much money for the mere cession of hisservices for a short season. In 1852 when Lablachc had reached an agewhen most singers grow dull and mechanical, he created two new types, _Caliban_, in Halévy's opera of "The Tempest, " and _Gritzonko_, in"L'Etoile du Nord, " with a vivacity, a stage knowledge, and a brilliancyof conception as rare as they were strongly marked. He was one of thethirty-two torch-bearers who followed Beethoven's body to its interment, and he sung the solo part in "Mozart's Requiem" at the funeral, as hehad when a child sung the contralto part in the same mass at Hadyn'sobsequies. He was the recipient of orders and medals from nearly everysovereign in Europe. When he was thus honored by the Emperor of Russiain 1856, he used the prophetic words, "These will do to ornament mycoffin. " Two years afterward he died at Naples, January 23, 1858, whither he had gone to try the effects of the balmy climate of hisnative city on his failing health. His only daughter married Thalberg, the pianist. He was the singing master of Queen Victoria, and he isfrequently mentioned in her published diaries and letters in terms ofthe strongest esteem and admiration. His death drew out expressionsof profound sorrow from all parts of Europe, for it was felt that, inLablache, the world of song had lost one of the greatest lights whichhad starred its brilliant record. 

IV. 

But of all the great men-singers with whom the Grisi was associatedno one was so intimately connected with her career as the tenor Mario. Their art partnership was in later years followed by marriage, butit was well known that a passionate and romantic attachment sprang upbetween these two gifted singers long before a dissolution of Grisi'searlier union permitted their affection to be consecrated by the Church. Mario, Conte di Candia, the scion of a noble family, was born at Genoain 1812. His father had been a general in the army at Piedmont, andhe himself at the time of his first visit to Paris in 1836 carriedhis sovereign's commission. The fascinating young Italian officer waswelcomed in the highest circles, for his splendid physical beauty, and his art-talents as an amateur in music, painting, and sculpture, separated him from all others, even in a throng of brilliant andaccomplished men. He had often been told that he had a fortune in hisvoice, but his pride of birth had always restrained him from a careerto which his own secret tastes inclined him, in spite of the fact thatexpensive tastes cooperated with a meager allowance from his father toplunge him deeply in debt. At last the moment of successful temptationcame. Duponchel, the director of the Opera, made him a tempting offer, for good tenors were very difficult to secure then as in the later daysof the stage. 

The young Count Candia hesitated to sign his father's name to acontract, but he finally compromised the matter at the house of theComtesse de Merlin, where he was dining one night in company with PrinceBelgiojoso and other musical amateurs, by signing only the Christianname, under which he afterward became famous, Mario. He spent a shortseason in studying under Michelet, Pouchard, and the great singingmaster, Bordogni, but there is no doubt that his singing was veryimperfect when he made his _début_, November 30, 1838, in the partof _Robert le Diable_. His princely beauty and delicious fresh voice, however, took the musical public by storm, and the common cry was thathe would replace Kubini. For a year he remained at the Académie, but in1840 passed to the Italian Opera, for which his qualities more speciallyfitted him. 

In the mean time he had made his first appearance before that public ofwhich he continued to be a favorite for so many years. London firstsaw the new tenor in "Lucrezia Borgia, " and was as cordial in itsappreciation as Paris had been. A critic of the period, writing of himin later years, said: "The vocal command which he afterward gained wasunthought of; his acting then did not get beyond that of a southern manwith a strong feeling for the stage. But physical beauty and geniality, such as have been bestowed on few, a certain artistic taste, a certaindistinction, not exclusively belonging to gentle birth, but sometimesassociated with it, made it clear from the first hour of Signor Mario'sstage life that a course of no common order of fascination had begun. "Mario sung after this each season in London and Paris for severalyears, without its falling to his lot to create any new importantstage characters. When Donizetti produced "Don Pasquale" at the TheatreItaliens in 1843, Mario had the slight part of the lover. The receptionat rehearsal was ominous, and, in spite of the beauty of the music, everybody prophesied a failure. The two directors trembled with dreadof a financial disaster. The composer shrugged his shoulders, and takingthe arm of his friend, M. Dermoy, the music publisher, left the theatre. "They know nothing about the matter, " he laughingly said; "I know what'Don Pasquale' needs. Come with me. " On reaching his library at home, Donizetti unearthed from a pile of dusty manuscript tumbled under thepiano what appeared to be a song. "Take that, " he said to his friend, "to Mario at once that he may learn it without delay. " This song wasthe far-famed "Com e gentil. " The serenade was sung with a tambourineaccompaniment played by Lablache himself, concealed from the audience. The opera was a great success, no little of which was due to theneglected song which Donizetti had almost forgotten. 

It was not till 1846 that Mario took the really exalted place by whichhe is remembered in his art, and which even the decadence of his vocalpowers did not for a long time deprive him of. He never lost somethingamateurish, but this gave him a certain distinction and fine breeding ofstyle, as of a gentleman who deigned to practice an art as a delightfulaccomplishment. Personal charm and grace, borne out by a voice ofhoneyed sweetness, fascinated the stern as well as the sentimentalcritic into forgetting all his deficiencies, and no one was disposed toreckon sharply with one so genially endowed with so much of the noblemanin bearing, so much of the poet and painter in composition. To those whofor the first time saw Mario play such parts as _Almaviva, Gennaro_, and _Raoul_, it was a new revelation, full of poetic feeling andsentiment. Here his unique supremacy was manifest. He will live in theworld's memory as the best opera lover ever seen, one who out of theinsipidities and fustian of the average lyric drama could conjure upa conception steeped in the richest colors of youth, passion, andtenderness, and strengthened by the atmosphere of stage verity. In suchscenes as the fourth act of "Les Huguenots" and the last act of the"Favorita" Signor Mario's singing and acting were never to be forgottenby those that witnessed them. Intense passion and highly finishedvocal delicacy combined to make these pictures of melodious sufferingindelible. 

As a singer of romances Mario has never been equaled. He could notexecute those splendid songs of the Rossinian school, in which thefeeling of the theme is expressed in a dazzling parade of roulades andfioriture, the songs in which Rubini was matchless. But in those songswhere music tells the story of passion in broad, intelligible, ardentphrases, and presents itself primarily as the vehicle of vehementemotion, Mario stood ahead of all others of his age, it may be said, indeed, of all within the memory of his age. It was for this reason thathe attained such a supremacy also on the concert stage. The choicestsongs of Schubert, Mendelssohn, Gordigiano, and Meyerbeer wereinterpreted by his art with an intelligence and poetry which gave thema new and more vivid meaning. The refinements of his accent andpronunciation created the finest possible effects, and were perhapspartly due to the fact that before Mario became a public artist he was agentleman and a noble, permeated by the best asthetic and social cultureof his times. 

Mario's power illustrated the value of tastes and pursuits collateralto those of his profession. The painter's eye for color, the sculptor'ssense of form, as well as the lover's honeyed tenderness, entered intothe success of this charming tenor. His stage pictures looked as ifthey had stepped out of the canvases of Titian, Tintoretto, and PaulVeronese. In no way was the artistic completeness of his temperamentmore happily shown than in the harmonious and beautiful figure hepresented in his various characters; for there was a touch of poetry andproportion in them far beyond the possibilities of the stage costumer'scraft. Other singers had to sing for years, and overcome native defectsby assiduous labor, before reaching the goal of public favor, but"Signor Mario was a Hyperian born, who had only to be seen and heard, and the enchantment was complete. " For a quarter of a century Marioremained before the public of Paris, London, and St. Petersburg, constantly associated with Mme. Grisi. 

V. 

To return once more to the consideration of Grisi's splendid career. The London season of 1839 was remarkable for the production of "LucreziaBorgia. " The character of the "Borgia woman" afforded a sphere in whichour prima donna's talents shone with peculiar luster. The impassionedtenderness of her _Desdemona_, the soft sweetness of "love in itsmelancholy and in its regrets" of _Anna Bolena_, the fiery ardor andvehemence of _Norma_, had been powerfully expressed by her, but themixture of savage cruelty and maternal intensity characteristic of_Lucretia_ was embodied with a splendor of color and a subtilty ofideal which deservedly raised her estimate as a tragedienne higher thanbefore. Without passing into unnecessary detail, it is enough to statethat Mme. Grisi was constantly before the publics of London and Parisin her well-established characters for successive years, with anever-growing reputation. In 1847 the memorable operatic schism occurredwhich led to the formation of the Royal Italian Opera at Convent Garden. The principal members of the company who seceded from Her Majesty'sTheatre were Mmes. Grisi and Persiani, Signor Mario, and SignorTamburini. The new establishment was also strengthened by the accessionof several new performers, among whom was Mlle. Alboni, the greatcontralto. "Her Majesty's" secured the possession of Jenny Lind, whobecame the great support of the old house, as Grisi was of the newone. The appearance of Mme. Grisi as the Assyrian Queen and Alboni as_Arsace_ thronged the vast theatre to the very doors, and produceda great excitement on the opening night. The subject of our sketchremained faithful to this theatre to the very last, and was on itsboards when she took her farewell of the English public. The changebroke up the celebrated quartet. It struggled on in the shape of a triofor some time without Lablache, and was finally diminished to Grisi andMario, who continued to sing the _duo concertante_ in "Don Pasquale, " asnone others could. They were still the "rose and nightingale" whom Heineimmortalizes in his "Lutetia, " "the rose the nightingale among flowers, the nightingale the rose among birds. " That airy dilettante, N. P. Willis, in his "Pencilings by the Way, " passes Grisi by with faintpraise, but the ardent admiration of Heine could well compensate herwounded vanity, if, indeed, she felt the blunt arrow-point of theAmerican traveler. 

A visit to St. Petersburg in 1851, in company with Mario, was theoccasion of a vast amount of enthusiasm among the music-loving Russians. During her performance in "Lucrezia Borgia, " on her benefit night, shewas recalled twenty times, and presented by the Czar with a magnificentCashmere shawl worth four thousand rubles, a tiara of diamonds andpearls, and a ring of great value. From the year 1834, when she firstappeared in London, till 1861, when she finally retired, Grisi missedbut one season in London, and but three in Paris. Her splendid physiqueenabled her to endure the exhaustive wear and friction of an operaticlife with but little deterioration of her powers. When she made herartistic tour through the United States with Mario in 1854, her voicehad perhaps begun to show some slight indication of decadence, but herpowers were of still mature and mellow splendor. Prior to crossing theocean a series of "farewell performances" was given. The operas in whichshe appeared included "Norma, " "Lucrezia Borgia, " "Don Pasquale, " "GliUgonotti, " "La Favorita. " The first was "Norma, " Mme. Grisi performing_Norma_; Mlle. Maria, _Adalgiza_; Tamberlik, _Pollio_; and La-blache, _Oroveso_; the last performance consisted of the first act of "Norma, "and the three first acts of "Gli Ugonotti, " in which Mario sustained theprincipal tenor part. "Rarely, in her best days, " said one critic, "hadGrisi been heard with greater effect, and never were her talents asan actress more conspicuously displayed. " At the conclusion of theperformance the departing singer received an ovation. Bouquets wereflung in profusion, vociferous applause rang through the theatre, andwhen she reappeared the whole house rose. The emotion which was evincedby her admirers was evidently shared by herself. 

The American engagement of Grisi and Mario under Mr. Hackett was verysuccessful, the first appearance occurring at Castle Garden, August 18, 1854. The seventy performances given throughout the leading cities arestill a delightful reminiscence among old amateurs, in spite of thegreat singers who have since visited this country and the more stablefooting of Italian opera in later times. Mr. Hackett paid the twoartists eighty-five thousand dollars for a six months' tour, anddeclared, at a public banquet he gave them at the close of the season, that his own profits had been sixty thousand dollars. Mme. Grisi hadintended to retire permanently when she was still in the full strengthof her great powers, but she was persuaded to reappear before the Londonpublic on her return from New York. It became evident that her voice wasbeginning to fail rapidly, and that she supplied her vocal shortcomingsby dramatic energy. She continued to sing in opera in various parts ofEurope, but the public applause was evidently rather a struggle on thepart of her audiences to pay tribute to a great name than a spontaneousexpression of pleasure, and at Madrid she was even hissed in thepresence of the royal court, which gave a special significance to theoccasion. Mr. Gye, of the Royal Italian Opera in London, in 1861 madea contract with her not to appear on the stage again for five years, evidently assuming that five years were as good as fifty. But it washard for the great singer, who had been the idol of the public for morethan a quarter of a century, to quit the scene of her splendid triumphs. So in 1866 she again essayed to tread the stage as a lyric queen, in the_rôle_ of _Lucrezia_, but the result was a failure. It is not pleasantto record these spasmodic struggles of a failing artist, tenacious ofthat past which had now shut its gates on her for ever and a day. Hercareer was ended, but she had left behind a name of imperishable lusterin the annals of her art. She died of inflammation of the lungs during avisit to Berlin, November 25, 1869. Her husband, Mario, retired fromthe stage in 1867, and suffered, it is said, at the last from pecuniaryreverses, in spite of the fact that he had earned such enormous sumsduring his operatic career. His concert tour in the United States, underthe management of Max Strakosch, in 1871-'72. Is remembered only with afeeling of pain. It was the exhibition of a magnificent wreck. The touchof the great artist was everywhere visible, but the voice was utterlylost. Signor Mario is still living at Rome, and has resumed the rankwhich he laid aside to enter a stage career. 

Grisi united much of the nobleness and tragic inspiration of Pasta withsomething of the fire and energy of Malibran, but in the minds of themost capable judges she lacked the creative originality which stampedeach of the former two artists. She was remarkable for the clevernesswith which she adopted the effects and ideas of those more thoughtfuland inventive than herself. Her _Norma_ was ostentatiously modeled onthat of Pasta. Her acting showed less the exercise of reflection andstudy than the rich, uncultivated, imperious nature of a most beautifuland adroit southern woman. But her dramatic instincts were so strong andvehement that they lent something of her own personality to the copy ofanother's creation. When to this engrossing energy were added the mostdazzling personal charms and a voice which as nearly reached perfectionas any ever bestowed on a singer, it is no marvel that a continualsuccession of brilliant rivals was unable to dispute her long reign overthe public heart. 

PAULINE VIARDOT. 

Vicissitudes of the Garcia Family. --Pauline Viardot's EarlyTraining. --Indications of her Musical Genius. --She becomes a Pupilof Liszt on the Piano. --Pauline Garcia practically self-trained as aVocalist. --Her Remarkable Accomplishments. --Her First Appearance beforethe Public with De Beriot in Concert. --She makes her _Début_ in Londonas _Desdemona_. --Contemporary Opinions of her Powers. --Description ofPauline Garcia's Voice and the Character of her Art. --The Originalityof her Genius. --Pauline Garcia marries M. Viardot, a Well-known_Litterateur_. --A Tour through Southern Europe. --She creates a DistinctPlace for herself in the Musical Art. --Great Enthusiasm in Germanyover her Singing. --The Richness of her Art Resources. --Sketches of theTenors, Nourrit and Duprez, and of the Great Barytone, Ronconi. --Mine. Viardot and the Music of Meyerbeer. --Her Creation of the Part of _Fides_in "Le Prophète, " the Crowning Work of a Great Career. --Retirement fromthe Stage. --High Position in Private Life. --Connection with the FrenchConservatoire. 

I. 

The genius of the Garcia family flowered not less in Mme. Malibran'syounger sister than in her own brilliant and admired self. Pauline, thesecond daughter of Manuel Garcia, was thirteen years the junior of hersister, and born at Paris, July 18, 1821. The child had for sponsors atbaptism the celebrated Ferdinand Paer, the composer, and the PrincessPauline Prascovie Galitzin, a distinguished Russian lady, noted for hermusical amateurship, and the full name given was Michelle FerdinandiePauline. The little girl was only three years old when her sister Mariamade her _début_ in London, and even then she lisped the airs sheheard sung by her sister and her father with something like musicalintelligence, and showed that the hereditary gift was deeply rooted inher own organization. 

Manuel Garcia's project for establishing Italian opera in America andthe disastrous crash in which it ended have already been described inan earlier chapter. Maria, who had become Mme. Malibran, was left in NewYork, while the rest of the Garcia family sailed for Mexico, to givea series of operatic performances in that ancient city. The precociousgenius of Pauline developed rapidly. She learned in Mexico to play onthe organ and piano as if by instinct, with so much ease did she masterthe difficulties of these instruments, and it was her father'sproud boast that never, except in the cases of a few of the greatestcomposers, had aptitude for the musical art been so convincinglydisplayed at her early years. At the age of six Pauline Garcia couldspeak four languages, French, Spanish, Italian, and English, withfacility, and to these she afterward added German. Her passion foracquirement was ardent and never lost its force, for she was not onlyan indefatigable student in music, but extended her researches andattainments in directions alien to the ordinary tastes of evenbrilliant women. It is said that before she had reached the age ofeight-and-twenty, she had learned to read Latin and Greek with facility, and made herself more than passably acquainted with various arts andsciences. To the indomitable will and perseverance of her sister Maria, she added a docility and gentleness to which the elder daughter ofGarcia had been a stranger. Pauline was a favorite of her father, whohad used pitiless severity in training the brilliant and willful Maria. "Pauline can be guided by a thread of silk, " he would say, "but Marianeeds a hand of iron. "

Garcia's operatic performances in Mexico were very successful up to thebreaking out of the civil war consequent on revolt from Spain. Societywas so utterly disturbed by this catastrophe that residence in Mexicobecame alike unsafe and profitless, and the Spanish musician resolvedto return to Europe. He turned his money into ingots of gold and silver, and started, with his little family, across the mountains interposingbetween the capital and the seaport of Vera Cruz, a region at thatperiod terribly infested with brigands. Garcia was not lucky enoughto escape these outlaws. They pounced on the little cavalcade, and thehard-earned wealth of the singer, amounting to nearly a hundred thousanddollars, passed out of his possession in a twinkling. The cruel humorof the chief of the banditti bound Garcia to a tree, after he hadbeen stripped naked, and as it was known that he was a singer he wascommanded to display his art for the pleasure of these strange auditors. For a while the despoiled man sternly refused, though threatened withimmediate death. At last he began an aria, but his voice was so chokedby his rage and agitation that he broke down, at which the robberconnoisseurs hissed. This stung Garcia's pride, and he began again witha haughty gesture, breaking forth into a magnificent flight of song, which delighted his hearers, and they shouted "_Bravissimo!_" with allthe _abandon_ of an enthusiastic Italian audience. A flash of chivalryanimated the rude hearts of the brigands, for they restored to Garciaall his personal effects, and a liberal share of the wealth which theyhad confiscated, and gave him an escort to the coast as a protectionagainst other knights of the road. The reader will hardly fail to recalla similar adventure which befell Salvator Rosa, the great painter, whonot only earned immunity, but gained the enthusiastic admiration of aband of brigands, by whom he had been captured, through a display of hisart. 

The talent of Pauline Garcia for the piano was so remarkable that it wasfor some time the purpose of her father to devote her to this musicalspecialty. She was barely more than seven on the return of the Garciasto Europe, and she was placed, without delay, under the care of acelebrated teacher, Meysenberg of Paris. Three years later she wastransferred to the instruction of Franz Liszt, of whom she became one ofthe most distinguished pupils. Liszt believed that his young scholar hadthe ability to become one of the greatest pianists of the age, and wasurgent that she should devote herself to this branch of the musicalart. Her health, however, was not equal to the unremitting sedentaryconfinement of piano practice, though she attained a degree of skillwhich enabled her to play with much success as a solo performer at theconcerts of her sister Maria. Her voice had also developed remarkablequality during the time when she was devoting her energies in anotherdirection, and her proud father was wont to say, whenever a buzz ofecstatic pleasure over the singing of Mme. Malibran met his ear, "Thereis a younger sister who is a greater genius than she. " It is more thanprobable that Pauline Garcia, as a singer, owed an inestimable debtto Pauline Garcia as a player, and that her accuracy and brilliancy ofmusical method were, in large measure, the outcome of her training underthe king of modern pianists. 

Manuel Garcia died when Pauline was but eleven years old, and thequestion of her daughter's further musical education was left to Mme. Garcia. The celebrated tenor singer, Adolphe Nourrit, one of the famouslights of the French stage, who had been a favorite pupil of Garcia, showed great kindness to the widow and her daughter. Anxious to promotethe interests of the young girl, he proposed that she should takelessons from Eossini, and that great _maestro_ consented. Nourrit'sdelight at this piece of good luck, however, was quickly checked. Mme. Garcia firmly declined, and said that if her son Manuel could notcome to her from Rome for the purpose of training Pauline's voice, she herself was equal to the task, knowing the principles on whichthe Garcia school of the voice was founded. The systems of Rossini andGarcia were radically different, the one stopping at florid grace ofvocalization, while the other aimed at a radical and profound culture ofall the resources of the voice. 

It may be said, however, that Pauline Garcia was self-educated as avocalist. Her mother's removal to Brussels, her brother's absence inItaly, and the wandering life of Mme. Malibran practically threw her onher own resources. She was admirably fitted for self-culture. Ardent, resolute, industrious, thoroughly grounded in the soundest of artmethods, and marvelously gifted in musical intelligence, she appliedherself to her vocal studies with abounding enthusiasm, withoutinstruction other than the judicious counsels of her mother. She had hereyes fixed on a great goal, and this she pursued without rest or turningfrom her path. She exhausted the _solfeggi_ which her father had writtenout for her sister Maria, and when this laborious discipline was doneshe determined to compose others for herself. She had already learnedharmony and counterpoint from Reicha at the Paris Conservatoire, andthese she now found occasion to put in practice. She copied all themelodies of Schubert, of whom she was a passionate admirer, and thoughtno toil too great which promoted her musical growth. Her labor was alabor of love, and all the ardor of her nature was poured into it. Musicwas not the sole accomplishment in which she became skilled. Unassistedby teaching, she, like Malibran, learned to sketch and paint in oil andwater-colors, and found many spare moments in the midst of an incessantart-training, which looked to the lyric stage, to devote to literature. All this denotes a remarkable nature, fit to overcome every difficultyand rise to the topmost shining peaks of artistic greatness. What shedid our sketch will further relate. 

II. 

Pauline Garcia was just sixteen when, panting with an irrepressiblesense of her own powers, she exclaimed, "_Ed io anclû son cantatrice_. "Her first public appearance was worthy of the great name she afterwardwon. It was at a concert given in Brussels, on December 15, 1837, forthe benefit of a charity, and De Bériot made his first appearance onthis occasion after the death of Mme. Malibran. The court and mostdistinguished people of Belgium were present on this occasion, and sogreat was the impression made on musicians that the Philharmonic Societycaused two medals to be struck for De Bériot and Mlle. Garcia, the moldof which was broken immediately. Pauline Garcia, in company with DeBériot, gave a series of concerts through Belgium and Germany, and itsoon became evident that a new star of the first magnitude was rising inthe musical firmament. In Germany many splendid gifts were showered onher. The Queen of Prussia sent her a superb suite of emeralds, and Mme. Sontag, with whom she sang at Frankfort, gave the young cantatrice avaluable testimonial, which was alike an expression of her admirationof Pauline Garcia and a memento of her regard for the name of the greatMalibran, whose passionate strains had hardly ceased lingering in theears of Europe. Paris first gathered its musical forces to hear the newsinger at the Théâtre de la Renaissance, December 15, 1838, eager tocompare her with Malibran. Among other numbers on the concert programme, she gave a very difficult air by Costa, which had been a favorite songof her sister's, an _aria bravura_ by De Bériot, and the "Cadence duDiable, " imitated from "Tartini's Dream, " which she accompanied withmarvelous skill and delicacy. She shortly appeared again, and shewas supported by Rubini, Lablache, and Ivanhoff. The Parisian criticsrecognized the precision, boldness, and brilliancy of her musical stylein the most unstinted expressions of praise. But England was the countryselected by her for the theatrical _début_ toward which her ambitionburned--England, which dearly loved the name of Garcia, so resplendentin the art-career of Mme. Malibran. 

Her appearance in the London world was under peculiar conditions, which, while they would enhance the greatness of success, would be almostcertainly fatal to anything short of the highest order of ability. Themeteoric luster of Mali-bran's dazzling career was still fresh in theeyes of the public. The Italian stage was filled by Mme. Grisi, who, in personal beauty and voice, was held nearly matchless, and hadan established hold on the public favor. Another great singer, Mme. Persiani, reigned through the incomparable finish of her vocalization, and the musical world of London was full of distinguished artists, whose names have stood firm as landmarks in the art. The new Garcia, who dashed so boldly into the lists, was a young, untried, inexperiencedgirl, who had never yet appeared in opera. One can fancy the excitementand curiosity when Pauline stepped before the footlights of the King'sTheatre, May 9, 1839, as _Desdemona_ in "Otello, " which had been thevehicle of Malibran's first introduction to the English public. Thereminiscence of an eminent critic, who was present, will be interesting. "Nothing stranger, more incomplete in its completeness, more unspeakablyindicating a new and masterful artist can be recorded than that firstappearance. She looked older than her years; her frame (then a merereed) quivered this way and that; her character dress seemed to puzzleher, and the motion of her hands as much. Her voice was hardly settledeven within its own after conditions; and yet, juaradoxical as it mayseem, she was at ease on the stage; because she brought thither instinctfor acting, experience of music, knowledge how to sing, and consummateintelligence. There could be no doubt, with any one who saw that_Desdemona_ on that night, that another great career was begun. . . . Allthe Malibran fire, courage, and accomplishment were in it, and (some ofus fancied) something more beside. "

Pauline Garcia's voice was a rebel which she had had to subdue, not avassal to command, like the glorious organ of Mme. Grisi, but her harshand unmanageable notes had been tutored by a despotic drill into greatbeauty and pliancy. Like that of her sister in quality, it combined thetwo registers of contralto and soprano from low F to C above the lines, but the upper part of an originally limited mezzo-soprano had beenliterally fabricated by an iron discipline, conducted by the girlherself with all the science of a master. Like Malibran, too, she had inher voice the soul-stirring tone, the sympathetic and touching characterby which the heart is thrilled. Her singing was expressive, descriptive, thrilling, full, equal and just, brilliant and vibrating, especially inthe medium and in the lower chords. Capable of every style of art, itwas adapted to all the feelings of nature, but particularly to outburstsof grief, joy, or despair. "The dramatic coloring which her voiceimparts to the slightest shades of feeling and passion is a realphenomenon of vocalization which can not be analyzed, " says Escudier. "No singer we ever heard, with the exception of Malibran, " says anothercritic, "could produce the same effect by means of a few simple notes. It is neither by the peculiar power, the peculiar depth, nor thepeculiar sweetness of these tones that the sensation is created, but bysomething indescribable in the quality which moves you to tears in thevery hearing. "

Something of this impression moved the general mind of connoisseurs onher first dramatic appearance. Her style, execution, voice, expression, and manner so irresistibly reminded her fellow-performers of thelamented Malibran, that tears rolled down their cheeks, yet therewas something radically different withal peculiar to the singer. Thissingular resemblance led to a curious incident afterward in Paris. Ayoung lady was taking a music-lesson from Lablache, who had lodgings inthe same house with Mlle. Garcia. The basso was explaining the manner inwhich Malibran gave the air they were practicing. Just then a voice washeard in the adjoining room singing the cavatina--the voice of Mdlle. Garcia. The young girl was struck with a fit of superstitious terror asif she had seen a phantom, and fainted away on her seat. 

Yet in person there was but a slight resemblance between the twosisters. Pauline had a tall, slender figure in her youth, and herphysiognomy, Jewish in its cast, though noble and expressive, was so farfrom being handsome that when at rest the features were almost harsh intheir irregularity. But, as in the case of many plain women, emotion andsensibility would quickly transfigure her face into a marvelous beautyand fascination, far beyond the loveliness of line and tint. Herforehead was broad and intellectual, the hair jet-black, the complexionpale, the large, black eyes ardent and full of fire. Her carriage wassingularly majestic and easy, and a conscious nobility gave her bearinga loftiness which impressed all beholders. 

Her singing and acting in _Desdemona_ made a marked sensation. Thoughher powers were still immature, she flooded the house with a stream ofclear, sweet, rich melody, with the apparent ease of a bird. Undismayedby the traditions of Mali-bran, Pasta, and Sontag in this character, she gave the part a new reading, in which she put something of her ownintense individuality. "By the firmness of her step, and the generalconfidence of her deportment, " said a contemporary writer, "we were atfirst induced to believe that she was not nervous; but the improvementof every succeeding song, and the warmth with which she gave the latterpart of the opera, convinced us that her power must have been confinedby something like apprehension. " Kubini was the _Otello_, Tamburini, _Iago_, and Lablache, _Elmiro_. Her performance in "La Cenerentola"confirmed the good opinion of the public. Her pure taste and perfectfacility of execution were splendidly exhibited. "She has, " said acritic, "more feeling than Mme. Cinti Da-moreau in the part in whichthe greater portion of Europe has assigned to her the preeminence, andexecution even now in nearly equal perfection. "

M. Viardot, a well-known French _littérateur_, was then director of theItalian Opera in Paris, and he came to London to hear the new singer--inwhom he naturally felt a warm interest, as he had been an intimatepersonal friend of Mme. Malibran. He was so delighted that he offeredher the position of prima donna for the approaching season, butthe timidity of the young girl of eighteen shrank from such aresponsibility, and she would only bind herself to appear for a fewnights. The French public felt a strong curiosity to hear the sisterof Mali-bran, and it was richly rewarded, for the magnificent stylein which she sang her parts in "Otello, " "La Cenerentola, " and "IlBarbiere" stamped her position as that not only of a great singer, but awoman of genius. The audacity and wealth of resource which she displayedon the first representation of the latter-named opera wore worthy ofthe daughter of Garcia and the sister of Malibran, Very imperfectlyacquainted with the music, she forgot an important part of the score. Without any embarrassment, she instantly improvised not merely theornament, but the melody, pouring out a flood of dazzling vocalizationwhich elicited noisy enthusiasm. It was not Rossini's "Il Barbiere, " butit was successful in arousing a most flattering approbation. It may befancied, however, that, when she sang the _rôle_ of _Rosina_ a secondtime, she knew the music as Rossini wrote it. 

III. 

Mlle. Garcia was now fairly embarked on the hereditary profession of herfamily, and with every prospect of a brilliant career, for never had asinger at the very outset so signally impressed herself on the publicjudgment, not only as a thoroughly equipped artist, but as a womanof original genius. But she temporarily retired from the stage inconsequence of her marriage with M. Viardot, who had fallen deeply inlove with the fascinating cantatrice, shortly after his introduction toher. The bridegroom resigned his position as manager of the Opera, andthe newly married couple, shortly after their nuptials in the spring of1840, proceeded to Italy, M. Viardot being intrusted with an importantmission relative to the fine arts. Mme. Viardot did not return to thestage till the spring of the following year. After a short season inLondon, in which she made a deep and abiding impression, in the part of_Orazia_ ("Gli Orazi ed i Curiazi"), and justified her right to wear thecrown of Pasta and Malibran, she was obliged by considerations of healthto return to the balmier climate of Southern Europe. 

While traveling in Spain, the native land of her parents, she wasinduced to sing in Madrid, where she was welcomed with all the warmth ofSpanish enthusiasm. Her amiability was displayed during her performanceof _Desdemona_, the second opera presented. Pleased with theunrestrained expressions of delight by the audience, she voluntarilysang the _rondo finale_ from "Cenerentola. " There was such a magic spellon the audience that they could not be prevailed upon to leave, thoughMme. Viardot sang again and again for them. At last the curtain fell andthe orchestra departed, but the crowd would not leave the theatre. The obliging cantatrice, though fatigued, directed a piano-forte to bewheeled to the front of the stage, and sang, to her own accompaniment, two Spanish airs and a French romance, a crowning act of grace whichmade her audience wild with admiration and pleasure. An immense throngescorted her carriage from the theatre to the hotel, with a tumult of_vivas_. During this Spanish tour she appeared in opera in severaltowns outside of the capital, in the important pieces of her répertoire, including "Il Barbiere" and "Norma, " operas entirely opposed to eachother in style, but in both of which she was favorably judged incomparison with the greatest representatives of these characters. 

When this singer first appeared, every throne on the lyric stage seemedto be filled by those who sat firm, and wore their crowns right regallyby the grace of divine gifts, as well as by the election of the people. There seemed to be no manifest place for a new aspirant, no nicheunoccupied. But within three years' time Mme. Viardot's exalted rankamong the great singers of the age was no less assured than if she hadqueened it over the public heart for a score of seasons, and in herendowment as an artist was recognized a bounteous wealth of gifts towhich none of her rivals could aspire. Her resources appeared to bewithout limit; she knew every language to which music is sung, everystyle in which music can be written with equal fluency. All schools, whether ancient or modern, severe or florid, sacred or profane, severely composed or gayly fantastic, were easily within her grasp. Like Malibran, she was a profoundly scientific musician, and possessedcreative genius. Several volumes of songs attest her inventive skill incomposition, and the instances of her musical improvisation on the stageare alike curious and interesting. Such unique and lavish qualities asthese placed the younger daughter of Garcia apart from all others, evenas the other daughter had achieved a peculiarly original place in hertime. Like Lablache, in his basso _rôles_, Mme. Viardot, by her geniuscompletely revolutionized, both in dramatic conception and musicalrendering, many parts which had almost become stage traditions inpassing through the hands of a series of fine artists. But the fresherinsight of a vital originating imagination breathed a more robustand subtile life into old forms, and the models thus set appear to beimperishable. It has been more than hinted by friends of the composerMeyerbeer, that, when his life is read between the lines, it will beknown that he owes a great debt to Pauline Viardot for suggestions andcriticism in one of his greatest operas, as it is well known that hedoes to the tenor, Adolphe Nourrit, for some of the finest features of"Robert le Diable" and "Les Huguenots. "

In October, 1842, Mme. Viardot made her reappearance on the French stageat the Théâtre Italien as _Arsace_ in "Semiramide, " supported by Mme. Grisi and Tamburini. There was at this time such a trio of singers asis rarely found at any one theatre, Pauline Viardot, Giulia Grisi, andFanny Persiani, each one possessing voice and talent of the highestcharacter in her own peculiar sphere. Not the smallest share of thehonors gathered by these artists came to Mme. Viardot who had forintelligent and thoughtful connoisseurs a charm more subtile and bindingthan that exercised by any of her rivals. At the close of the Parisseason she proceeded to Vienna, where her artistic gifts were highlyappreciated, and thence to Berlin, where Meyerbeer was then engaged incomposing his "Prophète. " The dramatic conception of _Fides_, it maybe said in passing, was expressly designed for Pauline Viardot by thecomposer, who had the most exalted esteem for her genius, both as amusician and tragedienne. She was always a great favorite in Germany, and Berlin and Vienna vied with each other in their admiration of thisgifted woman. In 1844 she stirred the greatest enthusiasm by singing atVienna with Ilonconi, a singer afterward frequently associated with her. 

Perhaps at no period of her life, though, did Mme. Viardot create astronger feeling than when she appeared in Berlin in the spring of 1847as _Rachel_ in Halévy's "La Juive. " It was a German version, but thesinger was perfect mistress of the language, and though the music ofthe opera was by no means well suited to the character of her voice, its power as a dramatic performance and the passion of the singingestablished a complete supremacy over all classes of hearers. Theexhibition on the part of this staid and phlegmatic German community wassuch as might only be predicated of the volcanic temperament of Rome orNaples. The roar of the multitude in front of her lodgings continuedall night, and it was dawn before she was able to retire to rest. The versatility and kind heart of Mme. Viardot were illustrated in anoccurrence during this Berlin engagement. She had been announced as_Alice_ in "Robert le Diable, " when the _Isabella_ of the evening, Mlle. Tuezck, was taken ill. The _impressario_ tore his hair in despair, forthere was no singer who could be substituted, and a change of operaseemed to be the only option. Mme. Viardot changed the gloom of themanager to joy. Rather than disappoint the audience, she would singboth characters. This she did, changing her costume with each changeof scene, and representing in one opera the opposite _rôles_ of princessand peasant. One can imagine the effect of this great feat on thatcrowded Berlin audience, who had already so warmly taken Pauline Viardotto their hearts. Berlin, Vienna, Hamburg, Dresden, Frankfort, Leipsic, and other German cities were the scenes of a series of triumphs, andeverywhere there was but one voice as to her greatness as an artist, an excellence not only great, but unique of its kind. Her répertoire atthis time consisted of _Desdemona, Cenerentola, Rosina, Camilla (in "GliOrazi"), Arsace, Norma, Ninetta, Amina, Romeo, Lucia, Maria di Rohan, Leonora ("La Favorita" ), Zerlina, Donna Anna, Iphigénie (Gluck), theRachel of Halévy, and the Alice and Valentine of Meyerbeer_. 

IV. 

Mme. Viardot's high position on the operatic stage of course brought herinto intimate association with the leading singers of her age, some ofwhom have been mentioned in previous sketches. But there was one greattenor of the French stage, Nourrit, who, though he died shortly afterMme. Viardot's entrance on her lyric career, yet bore such relationto the Garcia family as to make a brief account of this gifted artistappropriate under this caption. Adolphe Nourrit, of whom the Frenchstage is deservedly proud, was the pupil of Manuel Garcia, the intimatefriend of Maria Malibran, and the judicious adviser of Pauline Viardotin her earlier years. The son of a tenor singer, who united the businessof a diamond broker with the profession of music, young Nourrit receiveda good classical education, and was then placed in the Conservatoire, where he received a most thorough training in the science of music, aswell as in the art of singing. It was said of him in after-years thathe was able to write a libretto, compose the music to it, lead theorchestra, and sing the tenor rôle in it, with equal facility. His firstappearance was in Gluck's "Iphigenie en Tauride, " in 1821, his age thenbeing nineteen. Gifted with remarkable intelligence and ambition, heworked indefatigably to overcome his defects of voice, and perfect hisequipment as an artist. Manuel Garcia, the most scientific and exactingof singing teachers, was the _maestro_ under whom Nourrit acquiredthat large and noble style for which he became eminent. He soon becameprincipal tenor at the Académie, and created all of the leading tenorrôles of the operas produced in France for ten years. Among these maybe mentioned _Néoclès_ in "La Siège de Corinthe, " _Masaniello_ in "LaMuette de Portici, "_Arnold_ in "Guillaume Tell, " _Leonardo da Vinci_in Ginestell's "François I, " _Un Lnconnu_ in "Le Dieu et la Bayadere, "_Robert le Diable, Edmond_ in "La Serment, " _Nadir_ in Cherubini's "AliBaba, " _Eleazar_ in "La Juive, " _Raoul_ in "Les Huguenots, " _Phobus_ inBertini's "La Esmeralda, " and _Stradella_ in Niedermeyer's opera. 

Nourrit gave a distinct stamp and a flavor to all the parts he created, and his comedy was no less refined and pleasing than his tragedywas pathetic and commanding. He was idolized by the public, and hisinfluence with them and with his brother artists was great. He wasconsulted by managers, composers, and authors. He wrote the words forEleazar's fine air in "La Juive, " and furnished the suggestions on whichMeyerbeer remodeled the second and third acts of "Robert le Diable" andthe last act of "Les Huguenots. " The libretti for the ballets of "LaSylphide, " "La Tempête, " "L'île des Pirates, " "Le Diable Boiteux, " etc. , as danced by Taglioni and Fanny Elssler, were written by this versatileman, and he composed many charming songs, which are still favoritesin French drawing-rooms. It was Nourrit who popularized the songs ofSchubert, and otherwise softened the French prejudice against modernGerman music. In private life this great artist was so witty, genial, and refined, that he was a favorite guest in the most distinguished andexclusive _salons_. When Duprez was engaged at the opera it severelymortified Nourrit, and, rather than divide the honors with a new singer, he resigned his position as first tenor at the Académie, where he solong had been a brilliant light. His farewell to the French public, April 1, 1837, was the most flattering and enthusiastic ovation everaccorded to a French artist, but he could not be induced to reconsiderhis purpose. He was professor of lyric declamation at the Conservatoire, but this position, too, he resigned, and went away with the design ofmaking a musical tour through France, Germany, and Italy. Nourrit, whowas subject to alternate fits of excitement and depression, was maddenedto such a degree by a series of articles praising Duprez at his expense, that his friends feared for his sanity, a dread which was ominouslyrealized in Italy two years afterward, where Nourrit was then singing. Though he was very warmly welcomed by the Italians, his morbidsensibility took offense at Naples at what he fancied was an unfavorableopinion of his _Pollio_ in "Norma. " His excitement resulted in delirium, and he threw himself from his bedroom window on the paved court-yardbelow, which resulted in instant death. Nourrit was the intimate friendof many of the most distinguished men of the age in music, literature, and art, and his sad death caused sincere national grief. 

As a singer and actor, Nourrit had one of the most creative andoriginating minds of his age. He himself never visited the UnitedStates, but his younger brother, Auguste, was a favorite tenor in NewYork thirty years ago. 

The part of _John of Leyden_ in "Le Prophète, " whose gestation coveredmany years of growth and change, was originally written for and inconsultation with Nourrit, just as that of Fides in the same opera wasremolded for and by suggestion of Pauline Viardot. Yet the opera did notsee the light until Nourrit's successor, Duprez, had vanished from thestage, and his successor again, Roger, who, though a brilliant singer, was far inferior to the other two in creative intellectuality, appearedon the scene. Chorley asserts that Du-prez was the only artist he hadever seen and heard whose peculiar qualities and excellences wouldhave enabled him to do entire musical and dramatic justice to thearduous part of _John of Leyden_. . . . "I have never seen anything like acomplete conception of the character, so wide in its range of emotions;and might have doubted its possibility, had I not remembered theadmirable, subtile, and riveting dramatic treatment of _Eleazar_ in 'LaJuive' (the _Shyloch_ of opera) by M. Duprez. "

This artist may be also included as belonging largely to the sphereof Pauline Viardot's art-life. Albert Duprez, the son of a Frenchperformer, was born in 1806, and, like his predecessor Nourrit, was astudent at the Conservatoire. At first he did not succeed in operaticsinging, but, recognizing his own faults and studying the great modelsof the day, among them Nourrit, whom he was destined to supplant, hefinally impressed himself on the public as the leading dramatic singerof France. According to Fetis and Castil-Blaze, he never had a superiorin stage declamation, and the finest actors of the Comédie Françaisemight well have taken a lesson from him. His first great success, whichcaused his engagement in grand opera, was the creation of _Edgardo_ in"Lucia di Lammermoor" at Naples in 1835. 

Two years later he made his _début_ at the Académie in "GuillaumeTell, " and his novel and striking reading of his part on this occasioncontributed largely to his fame. He was a leading figure at this theatrefor twelve years, and was the first representative of many importanttenor rôles, among which may be mentioned those of "Benvenuto Cellini, ""Les Martyrs, " "La Favorita, " "Dom Sebastien, " "Otello, " and "Lucia. "Duprez was insignificant, even repellent in his appearance, but, inspite of these defects, his tragic passion and the splendid intelligencedisplayed in his vocal art gave him a deserved prominence. Duprezcomposed many songs and romances, chamber-music, two masses, and eightoperas, and was the author of a highly esteemed musical method, which isstill used at the Conservatoire, where he was a professor of singing. 

Another name linked with not a few of Mme. Viardot's triumphs is thatof Ronconi, a name full of pleasant recollections, too, for many of theopera-goers of the last generation in the United States. There have beenonly a few lyric actors more versatile and gifted than he, or whohave achieved their rank in the teeth of so many difficulties anddisadvantages. His voice was limited in compass, inferior in quality, and habitually out of tune, his power of musical execution mediocre, hisphysical appearance entirely without grace, picturesqueness, or dignity. Yet Ronconi, by sheer force of a versatile dramatic genius, delightedaudiences in characters which had been made familiar to the publicthrough the splendid personalities of Tamburini and Lablache, personalities which united all the attributes of success on the lyricstage--noble physique, grand voice, the highest finish of musicalexecution, and the actor's faculty. What more unique triumph can befancied than such a one violating all the laws of probability? Ronconi'slow stature and commonplace features could express a tragic passionwhich could not be exceeded, or an exuberance of the wildest, quaintest, most spontaneous comedy ever born of mirth's most airy and tamelesshumor. Those who saw Ronconi's acting in this country saw the greatartist as a broken man, his powers partly wrecked by the habitualdejection which came of domestic suffering and professional reverses, but spasmodic gleams of his old energy still lent a deep interest to thework of the artist, great even in his decadence. In giving some idea ofthe impression made by Ronconi at his best, we can not do better thanquote the words of an able critic: "There have been few such examplesof terrible courtly tragedy in Italian opera as Signor Ronconi's_Chevreuse_, the polished demeanor of his earlier scenes giving afearful force of contrast to the latter ones when the torrent of pent-uppassion nears the precipice. In spite of the discrepancy between all ourideas of serious and sentimental music and the old French dresses, whichwe are accustomed to associate with the _Dorantes_ and _Alcestes_ ofMolière's dramas, the terror of the last scene when (between his teethalmost) the great artist uttered the line--'_Suir uscio tremendo losguardo figgiamo_'--clutching the while the weak and guilty woman bythe wrist, as he dragged her to the door behind which her falsity wasscreened, was something fearful, a sound to chill the blood, a sight tostop the breath. " This writer, in describing his performance of the partof the _Doge_ in Verdi's "I Due Foscari, " thus characterizes the lastact when the Venetian chief refuses to pardon his own son for the crimeof treason, faithful to Venice against his agonized affections as afather: "He looked sad, weak, weary, leaned back as if himself ready togive up the ghost, but, when the woman after the allotted bars of noisebegan again her second-time agony, it was wondrous to see how the oldsovereign turned in his chair, with the regal endurance of one who says'I must endure to the end, ' and again gathered his own misery into hisold father's heart, and shut it up close till the woman ended. Unable togrant her petition, unable to free his son, the old man when left alonecould only rave till his heart broke. Signor Ronconi's _Doge_ is not tobe forgotten by those who do not regard art as a toy, or the singer'sart as something entirely distinct from dramatic truth. "

His performance of the quack doctor _Dulcamara_, in "L'Elisir d'Amore, "was no less amazing as a piece of humorous acting, a creation matchedby that of the haggard, starveling poet in "Matilda di Shabran" and_Papageno_ in Mozart's "Zauberflote. " Anything more ridiculous andmirthful than these comedy _chef-d'ouvres_ could hardly be fancied. Thesame critic quoted above says: "One could write a page on his _Barber_in Rossini's master-work; a paragraph on his _Duke_ in 'LucreziaBorgia, ' an exhibition of dangerous, suspicious, sinister malice such asthe stage has rarely shown; another on his _Podesta_ in 'La Gazza Ladra'(in these two characters bringing him into close rivalry with Lablache, a rivalry from which he issued unharmed); and last, and almost best ofhis creations, his _Masetto_. " Ronconi is, we believe, still living, though no longer on the stage; but his memory will remain one of thegreat traditions of the lyric drama, so long as consummate histrionicability is regarded as worthy of respect by devotees of the opera. 

V. 

Mme. Viardot's name is, perhaps, more closely associated with the musicof Meyerbeer than that of any other composer. Her _Alice_ in "Robert leDiable, " her _Valentine_ in "Les Huguenots, " added fresh luster to herfame. In the latter character no representative of opera, in spite ofthe long bead-roll of eminent names interwoven with the record of thismusical work, is worthy to be compared with her. This part was for yearsregarded as standing to her what _Medea_ was to Pasta, _Norma_ to Grisi, _Fidelio_ to Malibran and Schröder-Devrient, and it was only when sheherself made a loftier flight as _Fides_ in "Le Prophète" that thisspecial connection of the part with the _artist_ ceased. Her geniusalways found a more ardent sympathy with the higher forms of music. "Theflorid graces and embellishments of the modern Italian school, " says acapable judge, "though mastered by her with perfect ease, do not appearto be consonant with her genius. So great an artist must necessarily bea perfect mistress of all styles of singing, but her intellect evidentlyinclines her to the severer and loftier school. " She was admitted to bea "woman of genius, peculiar, inasmuch as it is universal. "

Her English engagement at the Royal Italian Opera, in 1848, began withthe performance of _Amina_ in "La Sonnambula, " and created a greatsensation, for she was about to contest the suffrages of the public witha group of the foremost singers of the world, among whom were Grisi, Alboni, and Persiani. Mme. Viardot's nervousness was apparent to all. "She proved herself equal to Malibran, " says a writer in the "MusicalWorld, " speaking of this performance; "there was the same passionatefervor, the same absorbing depth of feeling; we heard the same toneswhose naturalness and pathos stole into our very heart of hearts; we sawthe same abstraction, the same abandonment, the same rapturous awakeningto joy, to love, and to devotion. Such novel and extraordinary passages, such daring nights into the region of fioriture, together with chromaticruns ascending and descending, embracing the three registers of thesoprano, mezzo-soprano, and contralto, we have not heard since the daysof Malibran. " Another critic made an accurate gauge of her peculiargreatness in saying: "Mme. Viardot's voice grows unconsciously upon you, until at last you are blind to its imperfections. The voice penetratesto the heart by its sympathetic tones, and you forget everything in itbut its touching and affecting quality. You care little or nothing forthe mechanism, or rather, for the weakness of the organ. You are nolonger a critic, but spellbound by the hand of genius, moved by thesway of enthusiasm that comes from the soul, abashed in the presence ofintellect. "

The most memorable event of this distinguished artist's life was herperformance, in 1849, of the character of _Fides_ in "Le Prophète. " Nooperatic creation ever made a greater sensation in Paris. Meyerbeer hadkept it in his portfolio for years, awaiting the time when Mme. Viardotshould be ready to interpret it, and many changes had been made fromtime to time at the suggestion of the great singer, who united to herexecutive skill an intellect of the first rank, and a musical knowledgesecond to that of few composers. At the very last moment it is said thatone or more of the acts were entirely reconstructed, at the wish of therepresentative of _Fides_, whose dramatic instincts were as unerring asher musical judgment. No performance since that of Viardot, though themost eminent singers have essayed the part, has equaled the first idealset by her creation from its possibilities. 

In this opera the principal interest pivots on the _mother_. Thesensuous, sentimental, or malignant phases of love are replaced bythe purest maternal devotion. It was left for Mme. Viardot to add anabsolutely new type to the gallery of portraits on the lyric stage. Weare told by a competent critic, whose enthusiasm in the study ofthis great impersonation did not yet quite run away with his judicialfaculty: "Her remarkable power of self-identification with the characterset before her was, in this case, aided by person and voice. The matureburgher woman in her quaint costume; the pale, tear-worn devotee, searching from city to city for traces of the lost one, and struckwith a pious horror at finding him a tool in the hands of hypocriticalblasphemy, was till then a being entirely beyond the pale of theordinary prima donna's comprehension--one to the presentation of whichthere must go as much simplicity as subtile art, as much of tendernessas of force, as much renunciation of woman's ordinary coquetries asof skill to impress all hearts by the picture of homely love, desolategrief, and religious enthusiasm. " M. Roger sang with Mme. Viardot inParis, but, when the opera was shortly afterward reproduced in London, he was replaced by Signor Mario, "whose appearance in his coronationrobes reminded one of some bishop-saint in a picture by Van Ryek orDurer, and who could bring to bear a play of feature without grimace, into scenes of false fascination, far beyond the reach of the cleverFrench artist, M. Roger. " The production of "Le Prophète" saved thefortunes of the struggling new Italian Opera House, which had beenfloundering in pecuniary embarrassments. 

The last season of Mme. Viardot in England was in 1858, during which shesang to enthusiastic audiences in many of her principal characters, and also contributed to the public pleasure in concert and the greatprovincial festivals. The tour in Poland, Germany, and Russia whichfollowed was marked by a series of splendid ovations and the eagernesswith which her society was sought by the most patrician circles inEurope. 

Her last public appearance in Paris was in 1862, and since that timeMme. Viardot has occupied a professional chair at the Conservatoire. Inprivate life this great artist has always been loved and admired forher brilliant mental accomplishments, her amiability, the suavity of hermanners, and her high principles, no less than she has been idolized bythe public for the splendor of her powers as musician and tragedienne. 

FANNY PERSIANI. 

The Tenor Singer Tacchinardi. --An Exquisite Voice and DeformedPhysique. --Early Talent shown by his Daughter Fanny. --His Aversionto her entering on the Stage Life. --Her Marriage to M. Persiani. --TheIncident which launched Fanny Persiani on the Stage. --Rapid Success as aSinger. --Donizetti writes one of his Great Operas for her. --_Personnel_, Voice, and Artistic Style of Mme. Persiani. --One of the GreatestExecutants who ever lived. --Anecdotes of her Italian Tours. --First Appearance in Paris and London. --A Tour through Belgium withRubini. --Anecdote of Prince Metternich. --Further Studies of Persiani'sCharacteristics as a Singer. --Donizetti composes Another Opera forher. --Her Prosperous Career and Retirement from the Stage. --LastAppearance in Paris for Mario's Benefit. 

I. 

Under the Napoleonic _régime_ the Odéon was the leading lyric theatre, and the great star of that company was Nicholas Tacchinardi, a tenor inwhom nature had combined the most opposing characteristics. Thefigure of a dwarf, a head sunk beneath the shoulders, hunchbacked, andrepulsive, he was hardly a man fitted by nature for a stage hero. Yethis exquisite voice and irreproachable taste as a musician gave him along reign in the very front rank of his profession. He was so morbidlyconscious of his own stage defects that he would beg composers to writefor him with a view to his singing at the side scenes before enteringon the stage, that the public might form an impression of him by hearingbefore his grotesque ugliness could be seen. Another expedient forconcealing some portion of his unfortunate figure was often practicedby this musical Caliban, that of coming on the stage standing in atriumphal car. But this only excited the further risibilities of hishearers, and he was forced to be content with the chance of making hisvocal fascination condone the impression made by his ugliness. 

At his first appearance on the boards of the Odéon, he was saluted withthe most insulting outbursts of laughter and smothered ejaculationsof "Why, he's a hunchback!" Being accustomed to this kind of greeting, Tacchinardi tranquilly walked to the footlights and bowed. "Gentlemen, "he said, addressing the pit, "I am not here to exhibit my person, butto sing. Have the goodness to hear me. " They did hear him, and when heceased the theatre rang with plaudits: there was no more laughter. Hispersonal disadvantages were redeemed by one of the finest andpurest tenor voices ever given by nature and refined by art, by hisextraordinary intelligence, by an admirable method of singing, anexquisite taste in fioriture, and facility of execution. 

Fanny Tacchinardi was the second daughter of the deformed tenor, born atRome, October 4, 1818, three years after Tacchinardi had returned againto his native land. Fanny's passion for music betrayed itself in herearliest lisps, and it was not ignored by Tacchinardi, who gave herlessons on the piano and in singing. At nine she could play withconsiderable intelligence and precision, and sing with grace herfather's ariettas and _duettini_ with her sister Elisa, who was not onlyan excellent pianist, but a good general musician and composer. The girlgrew apace in her art feeling and capacity, for at eleven she took partin an opera as prima donna at a little theatre which her father hadbuilt near his country place, just out of Florence. Tacchinardi was, however, very averse to a professional career for his daughter, in spiteof the powerful bent of her tastes and the girl's pleadings. He had been_chanteur de chambre_ since 1822 for the Grand Duke of Tuscany, andin the many concerts and other public performances over which he wasdirector his daughter frequently appeared, to the great delight ofamateurs. Fanny even at this early age had a voice of immense compass, though somewhat lacking in sweetness and flexibility, defects which shesubsequently overcame by study and practice. As the best antidote tothe sweet stage poison which already began to run riot in her veins, her father brought about an early marriage for the immature girl, andin 1830 she was united to Joseph Persiani, an operatic composer of somemerit, though not of much note. She resided with her husband in herfather's house for several years, carefully secluded as far as possiblefrom musical influences, but the hereditary passion and gifts couldnot be altogether suppressed, and the youthful wife quietly pursued herstudies with unbroken perseverance. 

The incident which irretrievably committed her energies and fortunes tothe stage was a singular one, yet it is not unreasonable to assume that, had not this occurred, her ardent predilections would have found someother outlet to the result to which she aspired. M. Fournier, a richFrench merchant, settled at Leghorn, was an excellent musician, andcarried this recreation of his leisure hours so far as to compose anopera, "Francesca di Rimini, " the subject drawn from the romance of"Silvio Pellico. " The wealthy merchant could find no manager who wouldventure to produce the work of an amateur. But he was willing and ableto become his own _impressario_, and accordingly he set about forming anoperatic troupe and preparing the scenery for a public representationof his dearly beloved musical labor. The first vocalists of Italy, Mmes. Pisaroni and Rasallima Caradori, contralto and soprano, were engaged atlavish salaries, and on the appointed day of the first rehearsal theyall appeared except Caradori, whose Florentine manager positivelyforbade her singing as a violation of his contract. M. Fournier was indespair, but at last some one remembered Mme. Persiani, who was knownas a charming dilettante. Her residence was not many miles away fromLeghorn, and it was determined to have recourse to this last resort, for it was otherwise almost impossible to secure a vocalist of talentat short notice. A deputation of M. Fournier's friends, among whom werethose well acquainted with the Tacchinardi family, formed an embassy torepresent the urgent need of the composer and implore the aid of Mme. Persiani. With some difficulty the consent of husband and father wasobtained, and the young singer made her _début_ in the opera of themerchant-musician. Mme. Persiani said in after-years that, had herattempt been a successful one, it was very doubtful if she ever wouldhave pursued the profession of the stage. But her performance camevery near to being a failure. Her pride was so stung and her vanityhumiliated that she would not listen to the commands of husband andfather. She would become a great lyric artist, or else satisfy herselfthat she _could_ not become one. The turning-point of her life had come. 

She found an engagement at the La Scala, Milan, and she speedily laid agood foundation for her future renown. She sang at Florence withDuprez, and Donizetti, who was then in the city, composed his "Rosmondad'Inghilterra" for these artists. For two years there was nothing ofspecially important note in Mme. Persiani's life except a swift andsteady progress. An engagement at Vienna made her the pet of that city, which is fanatical in its musical enthusiasm, and we next find her backagain in Italy, singing greatly to the satisfaction of the public insuch operas as "Romeo e Giulietta, " "Il Pirata, " "La Gazza Ladra, "and "L'Elisir d'Amore. " Mme. Pasta was singing in Venice when Persianivisited that city, and the latter did not hesitate to enter intocompetition with her illustrious rival. Indeed, the complimentaryVenetians called her "la petite Pasta, " though the character of hertalent was entirely alien to that of the great tragedienne of music. Milan and Rome reechoed the voice of other cities, and during her stayin Rome she appeared in two new operas, "Misantropia e Pentimento" and"I Promessi Sposi. " Among the artists associated with her during theRoman engagement was Ronconi, who was then just beginning to establishhis great reputation. One of the most important events of her earlycareer was her association, in 1834, at the San Carlo, Naples, withDuprez, Caselli, and La-blache. The composer Donizetti had always beencharmed with her voice as suiting the peculiar style of music inwhich he excelled, and he determined to compose an opera for her. Hismarvelous facility of composition was happily illustrated in this case. The novel of "The Bride of Lammermoor" was turned into a libretto forhim by a Neapolitan poet, Donizetti himself, it is said, having writtenthe last act in his eagerness to save time and get it completed thathe might enter on the musical composition. The opera of "Lucia diLammermoor, " one of the most beautiful of the composer's works, wasfinished in little more than five weeks. The music of _Edgardo_ wasdesigned for the voice of M. Duprez, that of _Lucia_ for Mme. Persiani, and the result was brilliantly successful, not only as suiting thestyles of those singers, but in making a powerful impression on thepublic mind. Mme. Persiani never entered into any rivalry with thosesingers who were celebrated for their dramatic power, for this talentdid not peculiarly stamp her art-work. But her impersonation of _Lucia_in Donizetti's opera was sentimental, impassioned, and pathetic to adegree which saved her from the reproach which was sometimes directedagainst her other performances--lack of unction and abandon. 

II. 

The _personnel_ of Mme. Persiani could not be considered highlyattractive. She was small, thin, with a long, colorless face, and lookedolder than her years. Her eyes were, however, soft and dreamy, her smilepiquant, her hair like gold-colored silk, and exquisitely long. Hermanner and carriage both on and off the stage were so refined andcharming, that of all the singers of the day she best expressed thatthorough-bred look which is independent of all beauty and physicalgrace. "Never was there woman less vulgar, in physiognomy or in manner, than she, " says Mr. Chorley, describing Mme. Persiani; "but never wasthere one whose appearance on the stage was less distinguished. She wasnot precisely insignificant to see, so much as pale, plain, and anxious. She gave the impression of one who had left sorrow or sickness athome, and who therefore (unlike those wonderful deluders, the Frenchactresses, who, because they will not be ugly, rarely _look_ so) hadresigned every question of personal attraction as a hopeless one. Shewas singularly tasteless in her dress. Her one good point was her hair, which was splendidly profuse, and of an agreeable color. "

As a vocalist, it was agreed that her singing had the volubility, ease, and musical sweetness of a bird: her execution was remarkablefor velocity. Her voice was rather thin, but its tones were clear as asilver bell, brilliant and sparkling as a diamond; it embraced a rangeof two octaves and a half (or about eighteen notes, from B to F in alt), the highest and lowest notes of which she touched with equal ease andsweetness. She had thus an organ of the most extensive compass known inthe register of the true soprano. Her facility was extraordinary;her voice was implicitly under her command, and capable not only ofexecuting the greatest difficulties, but also of obeying the most daringcaprices--scales, shakes, trills, divisions, fioriture the most dazzlingand inconceivable. She only acquired this command by indefatigablelabor. Study had enabled her to execute with fluency and correctnessthe chromatic scales, ascending and descending, and it was by sheer hardpractice that she learned to swell and diminish her accents; to emittones full, large, and free from nasal or guttural sounds, to manageher respiration skillfully, and to seize the delicate shades ofvocalization. In fioriture and vocal effects her taste was faultless, and she had an agreeable manner of uniting her tones by the happiesttransitions, and diminishing with insensible gradations. She excelledin the effects of vocal embroidery, and her passion for ornamentationtempted her to disregard the dramatic situation in order to give wayto a torrent of splendid fioriture, which dazzled the audience withoutalways satisfying them. 

The characters expressing placidity, softness, and feminine grace, like_Lucia, Amina, _ and _Zerli-na_, involving the sentimental rather thanthe passionate, were best fitted to Mme. Persiani's powers as artist. She belonged to the same school as Sontag, not only in characterof voice, but in all her sympathies and affinities; yet she was notincapable of a high order of tragic emotion, as her performance of themad scene of "Lucia di Lammermoor" gave ample proof, but this form ofartistic expression was not spontaneous and unforced. It was only wellaccomplished under high pressure. Escudin said of her, "It is not onlythe nature of her voice which limits her--it is also the expressionof her acting, we had almost said the ensemble of her physicalorganization. She knows her own powers perfectly. She is not ambitious, she knows exactly what will suit her, and is aware precisely of thenature of her talent. " Although she attained a high reputation in someof Mozart's characters, as, for example, _Zerlina_, the Mozart music wasnot well fitted to her voice and tastes. The brilliancy and flexibilityof her organ and her airy style were far more suited to the modernItalian than to the severe German school. 

A charming compliment was paid by Malibran, who knew how to do suchthings with infinite taste and delicacy, to Persiani, when the latterlady was singing at Naples in 1835: while the representative of_Lucia_ was changing her costume between the acts, a lady entered herdressing-room, and complimented her in warmest terms on the excellenceof her singing. The visitor then took the long golden tresses floatingover Persiani's shoulders, and asked, "Is it all your own?" On beinglaughingly answered in the affirmative, Malibran, for it was she, said, "Allow me, signora, since I have no wreath of flowers to offer you, totwine you one with your own beautiful hair. " Mme. Persiani's artistictour through Italy, in 1835, culminated in Florence with one of thoseexhibitions of popular tyranny and exaction which so often alternatewith enthusiasm in the case of audiences naturally ardent andimpressible, and consequently capricious. When the singer arrived at theTuscan capital, she was in such a weak and exhausted state that she didnot deem it prudent to sing. Her manager was, however, unbending, and insisted on the exact fulfillment of her contract. After vainremonstrances she yielded to her taskmaster, and appeared in "IPuritani, " trusting to the forbearance and kindness of her audience. But a few notes had escaped her pale and quivering lips when the angryaudience broke out into loud hisses, marks of disapprobation which werekept up during the performance. Mme. Persiani could not forgive this, and, when she completely recovered her voice and energy a few weeksafter, she treated the lavish demonstrations of the public with the mostcutting disdain and indifference. At the close of her engagement, shepublicly announced her determination never again to sing in Florence, onaccount of the selfish cruelty to which she had been subjected both bythe manager and the public. Persiani's fame grew rapidly in every partof Europe. At Vienna, she was named chamber singer to the Austriansovereign, and splendid gifts were lavished on her by the imperialfamily, and in the leading cities of Germany, as in St. Petersburg andMoscow, the highest recognition of her talents was shown alike by courtand people. 

It was not till 1837 that Mme. Persiani ventured to make her firstappearance in Paris, a step which she took with much apprehension, forshe had an exaggerated notion of the captious-ness and coldness of theFrench public. When she stepped on the stage, November 7th, the night ofher _début_ in "Sonnambula, " she was so violently shaken by her emotionsthat she could scarcely stand. The other singers were Rubini, Tamburini, and Mlle. Allessandri, and the audience was of the utmost distinction, including the foremost people in the art, literary, and social circlesof Paris. The _debutante_ was well received, but it was not untilshe appeared in Cimarosa's "Il Matrimonio Segreto" that she was fullyappreciated. Rubini and Tamburini were with her in the cast, and thesame great artists participated also with her in the performance of"Lucia, " which set the final seal of her artistic won h in thepublic estimate. She also appeared in London in the following year in"Sonnambula. " "It is no small risk to any vocalist to follow Malibranand Grisi in a part which they both played so well, " was the observationof one critic, "and it is no small compliment to Persiani to say thatshe succeeded in it. " She had completely established herself as afavorite with the London public before the end of the season, andthereafter she continued to sing alternately in London and Paris for asuccession of years, sharing the applause of audiences with such artistsas Grisi, Viardot, Lablache, Tamburini, Rubini, and Mario. 

A tour through Belgium and the Rhenish provinces, partly operatic, partly concertizing, which she took with Rubini in the summer and fallof 1841, was highly successful from the artistic point of view, andreplete with pleasant incidents, among which may be mentioned theirmeeting at Wiesbaden with Prince Metternich, who had come with a crowdof princes, ministers, and diplomats from the château of Johannisbergto be present at the concert. At the conclusion of the performance, thePrince took Rubini by the arm, and walked up and down the salon with himfor some time. They had become acquainted at Vienna. "My dearRubini, " said Metternich, "it is impossible that you can come so nearJohannisberg without paying me a visit there. I hope you and yourfriends will come and dine with me to-morrow. " The following day, therefore, Rubini, Mme. Persiani, etc. , went to the château, socelebrated for the produce of its vineyards, where M. Metternich and hisprincess did the honors with the utmost affability and cordiality. Afterdinner, Rubini, unasked, sang two of his most admired airs; andthe Prince, to testify his gratification, offered him a basket ofJohannisberg, "to drink my health, " he laughingly said, "when you reachyour château of Bergamo. " Rubini accepted the friendly offering, andbegged permission to bring Mme. Rubini, before quitting the north ofEurope, to visit the fine château. Metternich immediately summoned hismajor-domo, and said to him, "Remember that, if ever M. Rubini visitsJohannisberg during my absence, he is to be received as if he were itsmaster. You will place the whole of the château at his disposal so longas he may please to remain. " "And the cellar, also?" asked Rubini. "Thecellar, also, " added the Prince, smiling: "the cellar at discretion. "

III. 

The characteristics of Mme. Persiani's voice and art have already beengenerally described sufficiently to convey some distinct impression ofher personality as a singer, but it is worth while to enter into somemore detailed account of the peculiar qualities which for many yearsgave her so great a place on the operatic stage. Her acute soprano, mounting to E flat _altissimo_, had in it many acrid and piercing notes, and was utterly without the caressing, honeyed sweetness which, forexample, gave such a sensuous charm to the voice of Mme. Grisi. But shewas an incomparable mistress over the difficulties of vocalization. Fromher father, Tacchinardi, who knew every secret of his art, she receiveda full bequest of his knowledge. Her voice was developed to its utmostcapacity, and it was said of her that every fiber in her frame seemedto have a part in her singing; there was nothing left out, nothing keptback, nothing careless, nothing unfinished. So sedulous was she in theemployment of her vast and varied resources that she frequently roseto an animation which, if not sympathetic, as warmth kindling warmth, amounted to that display of conscious power which is resistless. The perfection with which she wrought up certain scenes, such as the"Sonnambula" _finale_ and the mad scene in "Lucia, " judged from thestandard of musical style, was not surpassed in any of the dazzlingdisplays of the stage. She had the finest possible sense of accent, which enabled her to give every phrase its fullest measure. 

Groups of notes were divided and expressed by her with all the precisionwhich the best violinists put into their bowing. The bird-like case withwhich she executed the most florid, rapid, and difficult music was sosecurely easy and unfailing as to excite something of the same kind ofwonder with which one would watch some matchless display of legerdemain. 

Another great musical quality in which she surpassed her contemporarieswas her taste and extraordinary facility in ornament. Always refined andtrue in style, she showed a variety and brilliancy in her changes andcadenzas which made her the envy of other singers. In this form ofaccomplishment she was first among Italians, who, again, are first amongthe singers of the world. Every passage was finished to perfection; and, though there were other singers not inferior to her in the use of theshake or the trill, yet in the attack of intervals distant from eachother, in the climbing up a series of groups of notes, ascending to thehighest in the scale, there was no singer of her own time or since whocould compete with her. Mr. Chorley tells us how convincingly these rareand remarkable merits impressed themselves on him, "when, after a fewyears' absence from our stage, Mme. Persiani reappeared in London, how, in comparison with her, her younger successors sounded like so manyimmature scholars of the second class. " On her gala nights the spiritand splendor of her execution were daring, triumphant, and irresistible, if we can trust those who heard her in her days of greatness. Moschcles, in his diary, speaks of the incredible difficulties whichshe overcame, and compares her performance with that of a violinist, while Mendelssohn, who did not love Italian music or the Italianvocalization, said: "Well, I do like Mme. Persiani dearly. She is sucha thorough artist, and she sings so earnestly, and there is such apleasant _bitter_ tone in her voice. "

Donizetti met Mme. Persiani again in Vienna in 1842, and composed forher his charming opera, "Linda di Chamouni, " which, with the exceptionof the "Favorita" and "Lucia, " is generally admitted to be his best. In this opera our singer made an impression nearly equal to that in"Lucia, " and it remained afterward a great favorite with her, and one inwhich she was highly esteemed by the European public. 

The transformation of Covent Garden Theatre into a spacious and nobleopera-house in 1847, and the secession of the principal artists from HerMajesty's Theatre, were the principal themes of musical gossip in theEnglish capital at that time. The artists who went over to the RoyalItalian Opera were Mines, Grisi and Persiani, Mlle. Alboni (then anovelty on the English stage), and Signors Mario, Tamburini, Salvi, Ronconi, Hovere, and Marini. M. Persiani was the director, and SignorCosta the _chef d'orchestre_. Although the company of singers was amagnificent combination of musical talent, and the presentation of operain every way admirable, the enterprise had a sickly existence for atime, and it was not until it had passed through various vicissitudes, and came finally into the hands of the astute Lumley, that theenterprise was settled on a stable foundation. 

From 1850 to 1858 Mme. Persiani sang with her usual brilliant success inall the principal cities of Europe, receiving, for special performancesin which she was a great favorite, the then remarkable sum of twohundred pounds per night. Her last appearance in England was in thespring of 1858, when she performed in "I Puritani, " "Don Pasquale, ""Linda di Chamouni, " and "Don Giovanni. " In the following winter sheestablished her residence in Paris, with the view of training pupils forthe stage. Only once did she depart from her resolution of not singingagain in opera. This was when Signor Mario was about to take his benefitin the spring of 1859. The director of the Theatre Italiens entreatedPersiani to sing _Zerlina_ to the _Don Giovanni_ of Mario, to which sheat last consented. "My career, " she said, "began almost in lisping thedivine music of 'Don Giovanni'; it will be appropriately closed by theinterpretation of this _chef-d'ouvre_ of the master of masters, theimmortal Mozart. " Mme. Persiani died in June, 1867, and her funeralwas attended by a host of operatic celebrities, who contributed to themusical exercises of a most impressive funeral. Mme. Persiani, asidefrom her having possessed a wonderful executive art in what may becalled the technique of singing, will long be remembered by studentsof musical history as having, perhaps, contributed more than any othersinger to making the music of Donizetti popular throughout Europe. 

MARIETTA ALBONI. 

The Greatest of Contraltos. --Marietta Alboni's EarlySurroundings. --Rossini's Interest in her Career. --First Appearance onthe Operatic Stage. --Excitement produced in Germany by her Singing. --HerIndependence of Character. --Her Great Success in London. --Descriptionof her Voice and Person. --Concerts in Taris. --The Verdicts of the GreatFrench Critics. --Hector Berlioz on Alboni's Singing. --She appears inOpera in Paris. --Strange Indifference of the Audience quickly turned toEnthusiasm. --She competes favorably in London with Grisi, Persiani, and Viardot. --Takes the Place of Jenny Lind as Prima Donna at HerMajesty's. --She extends her Voice into the Soprano Register. --Performs_Fides_ in "Le Prophète. "--Visit to America. --Retires from the Stage. 

I. 

There was a time early in the century when the voice of RosamundaPisaroni was believed to be the most perfect and delightful, not onlyof all contraltos of the age, but to have reached the absolute ideal ofwhat this voice should be. She even for a time disputed the supremacyof Henrietta Sontag as the idol of the Paris public, though the lattergreat singer possessed the purest of soprano voices, and won no lessby her personal loveliness than by the charm of her singing. Pisaroniexcelled as much in her dramatic power as in the beauty of her voice, and up to the advent of Marietta Alboni on the stage was unquestionablywithout a rival in the estimate of critics as the artist who surpassedall the traditions of the operatic stage in this peculiar line ofsinging. But her memory was dethroned from its pedestal when thegorgeous Alboni became known to the European public. 

Thomas Noon Talfourd applied to a well-known actress of half a centurysince the expression that she had "corn, wine, and oil" in her looks. A similar characterization would well apply both to the appearanceand voice of Mlle. Alboni, when she burst on the European world in thesplendid heyday of her youth and charms--the face, with its broad, sunnyItalian beauty, incapable of frown; the figure, wrought in linesof voluptuous symmetry, though the _embonpoint_ became finally toopronounced; the voice, a rich, deep, genuine contralto of more thantwo octaves, as sweet as honey, and "with that tremulous quality whichreminds fanciful spectators of the quiver in the air of the calm, blazing summer's noon"; a voice luscious beyond description. To thissinger has been accorded without dissent the title of the "greatestcontralto of the nineteenth century. "

The father of Marietta Alboni was an officer of the customs, who livedat Casena in the Romagna, and possessed enough income to bestow anexcellent education on all his family. Marietta, born March 10, 1822, evinced an early passion for music, and a great facility in learninglanguages. She was accordingly placed with Signor Bagioli, a localmusic-teacher, under whom she so prospered that at eleven she could readmusic at sight, and vocalize with considerable fluency. Having studiedher solfeggi with Bagioli, she was transferred to the tuition of Mme. Bertoletti, at Bologna. Here she had the good fortune to make theacquaintance of Rossini, in whom she excited interest. Rossini gaveher some lessons, and expressed a high opinion of her prospects. "Atpresent, " he said to some one inquiring about the young girl's talents, "her voice is like that of an itinerant ballad singer, but the townwill be at her feet before she is a year older. " It was chiefly throughRossini's cordial admiration of her voice that Morelli, one of thegreat _entrepreneurs_ of Italy, engaged her for the Teatro Communaleof Bologna. Here she made her first appearance as _Maffeo Orsini_, in"Lucrezia Borgia, " in 1842, Marietta then having reached the age oftwenty. She was then transferred to the La Scala, at Milan, where sheperformed with marked success in "La Favorita. " Rossini himself signedher contract, saying, "I am the subscribing witness to your union withrenown. May success and happiness attend the union!" Her engagement wasrenewed at the La Scala for four successive seasons. A tempting offerfrom Vienna carried her to that musical capital, and during the threeyears she remained there she won brilliant laurels and a fame which hadswiftly coursed through Europe; for musical connoisseurs visiting Viennacarried away with them the most glowing accounts of the new contralto. Her triumphs were renewed in Russia, Belgium, Holland, and Prussia, where her glorious voice created a genuine _furore_, not less flatteringto her pride than the excitement produced at an earlier date by Pasta, Sontag, and Malibran. An interesting proof of her independence anddignity of character occurred on her first arrival in Berlin, before shehad made her _début_ in that city. 

She was asked by an officious friend "if she had waited on M------. ""No! who is this M------, " was the reply. "Oh!" answered her inquisitor, "he is the most influential journalist in Prussia. " "Well, how doesthis concern me?" "Why, " rejoined the other, "if you do not contriveto insure his favorable report, you are ruined. " The young Italian drewherself up disdainfully. "Indeed!" she said, coldly; "well, let it be asHeaven directs; but I wish it to be understood that in _my_ breast thewoman is superior to the artist, and, though failure were the result, I would never degrade myself by purchasing success at so humiliating aprice. " The anecdote was repeated in the fashionable saloons ofBerlin, and, so far from injuring her, the noble sentiment of the young_debutante_ was appreciated. The king invited her to sing at his court, where she received the well-merited applause of an admiring audience;and afterward his Majesty bestowed more tangible evidences of hisapprobation. 

It was not till 1847 that Marietta Alboni appeared in England. Mr. Beale, the manager of the Royal Italian Opera, the new enterprise whichhad just been organized in the revolutionized Covent Garden Theatre, heard her at Milan and was charmed with her voice. Rumors had reachedEngland, of course, concerning the beauty of the new singer's voice, butthere was little interest felt when her engagement was announced. The"Jenny Lind" mania was at its height, and in the company in whichAlboni herself was to sing there were two brilliant stars of the firstluster, Grisi and Persiani. So, when she made her bow to the Londonpublic as _Arsace_, in "Semiramide, " the audience gazed at her with asort of languid and unexpectant curiosity. But Alboni found herself thenext morning a famous woman. People were astounded by this wonderfulvoice, combining luscious sweetness with great volume and capacity. Itwas no timid _débutante_, but a finished singer whose voice rolled outin a swelling flood of melody such as no English opera-house had heardsince the palmiest days of Pisaroni. Musical London was electrified, and Grisi, who sang in "Semiramide, " sulked, because in the greatduet, "Giorno d'orrore, " the thunders of applause evidently concernedthemselves with her young rival rather than with herself. Anotherconvincing proof of her power was that she dared to restore thebeautiful aria "In si barbara, " which had been hitherto suppressed forlack of a contralto of sufficient greatness to give it full effect. Inone night she had established herself as a trump card in the manager'shand against the rival house, an accession which he so appreciated that, unsolicited, he raised her salary from five hundred to two thousandpounds. 

Mlle. Alboni's voice covered nearly three octaves, from E flat to Csharp, with tones uniformly rich, full, mellow, and liquid. The qualityof the voice was perfectly pure and sympathetic, the articulation soclear and fluent, even in the most difficult and rapid passages, thatit was like a performance on a well-played instrument. The rapidityand certainty of her execution could only be compared to the dazzlingcharacter of Mme. Persiani's vocalization. Her style and method wereconsidered models. Although her facility and taste in ornamentation wereof the highest order, Alboni had so much reverence for the intentions ofthe composer, that she would rarely add anything to the music which sheinterpreted, and even in the operas of Rossini, where most singerstake such extraordinary liberties with the score, it was Alboni's prideneither to add nor omit a note. Perhaps her audiences most wondered ather singular ease. An enchanting smile lit up her face as she ran themost difficult scales, and the extreme feats of musical execution gavethe idea of being spontaneous, not the fruit of art or labor. Herwhole appearance, when she was singing, as was said by one enthusiasticamateur, conveyed the impression of exquisite music even when the senseof hearing was stopped. 

Alboni's figure, although large, was perfect in symmetry, graceful andcommanding, and her features regularly beautiful, though better fittedfor the expression of comedy than of tragedy. The expression of hercountenance was singularly genial, vivacious, and kindly, and hereyes, when animated in conversation or in singing, flashed with greatbrilliancy. Her smile was bewitching, and her laugh so infectious thatno one could resist its influence. 

Fresh triumphs marked Mlle. Alboni's London season to its close. In"La Donna del Lago, " "Lucrezia Borgia, " "Maria de Rohan, " and "LaGazza Ladra" she was pronounced inimitable by the London critics. Mme. Persiani's part in "Il Barbiere" was assumed without rehearsal and ata moment's notice, and given in a way which satisfied the most exactingjudges. It sparkled from the first to the last note with enchantinggayety and humor. 

II. 

M. Duponchel, the manager of the Opéra in Paris, hastened to London tohear Alboni sing, and immediately offered her an engagement. In October, 1847, she made her Parisian _début_. Her first appearance in concert waswith Alizard and Barroilhet. "Many persons, artists and amateurs, " saidFiorentino, "absolutely asked on the morning of her _début_, Who isthis Alboni? Whence does she come? What can she do?" And theirinterrogatories were answered by some fragments of those trifling andillusory biographies which always accompany young vocalists. There was, however, intense curiosity to hear and see this redoubtable singer whohad held the citadel of the Royal Italian Opera against the attractionof Jenny Lind, and the theatre was crowded to suffocation by rank, fashion, beauty, and notabilities on the night of her first concert, October 9th. When she stepped quietly on the stage, dressed in blackvelvet, a brooch of brilliants on her bosom, and her hair cut _à laTitus_, with a music-paper in her hand, there was just one thunder-clapof applause, followed by a silence of some seconds. She had not oneacknowledged advocate in the house; but, when Arsace's cavatina, "Ah!quel giorno, " gushed from her lips in a rich stream of melodious sound, the entire audience was at her feet, and the critics could not commandlanguage sufficiently glowing to express their admiration. 

"What exquisite quality of sound, what purity of intonation, whatprecision in the scales!" wrote the critic of the "Revue et GazetteMusicale. " "What _finesse_ in the manner of the breaks of the voice!What amplitude and mastery of voice she exhibits in the 'Brindisi'; whatincomparable clearness and accuracy in the air from 'L'ltaliana' and theduo from 'Il Barbiere!' There is no instrument capable of rendering withmore certain and more faultless intonation the groups of rapid noteswhich Rossini wrote, and which Alboni sings with the same facility andsame celerity. The only fault the critic has in his power to chargethe wondrous artist with is, that, when she repeats a morceau, we hearexactly the same traits, the same turns, the same fioriture, which wasnever the case with Malibran or Cinti-Damoreau. "

"This vocal scale, " says Scudo, speaking of her voice, "is divided intothree parts or registers, which follow in complete order. The firstregister commences at F in the base, and reaches F in the _medium_. Thisis the true body of the voice, whose admirable timbre characterizes andcolors all the rest. The second extends from G in the _medium_ to F onthe fifth line; and the upper part, which forms the third register, isno more than an elegant superfluity of Nature. It is necessary nextto understand with what incredible skill the artist manages thisinstrument; it is the pearly, light, and florid vocalization ofPersiani joined to the resonance, pomp, and amplitude of Pisaroni. Nowords can convey an idea of the exquisite purity of this voice, alwaysmellow, always equable, which vibrates without effort, and each note ofwhich expands itself like the bud of a rose--sheds a balm on the ear, as some exquisite fruit perfumes the palate. No scream, no affecteddramatic contortion of sound, attacks the sense of hearing, under thepretense of softening the feelings. "

"But that which we admire above all in the artist, " observes Fiorentino, "is the pervading soul, the sentiment, the perfect taste, the inimitablemethod. Then, what body in the voice! What largeness! What simplicity ofstyle! What facility of vocalization! What genius in the contrasts! Whatcolor in the phrases! What charm! What expression! Mlle. Alboni sings asshe smiles--without effort, without fatigue, without audible and brokenrespiration. Here is art in its fidelity! here is the model and examplewhich every one who would become an artist should copy. "

"It is such a pleasure to hear real singing, " wrote Hector Berlioz. "Itis so rare; and voices at once beautiful, natural, expressive, flexible, and _in time_, are so very uncommon! The voice of Mlle. Alboni possessesthese excellent qualities in the highest degree of perfection. It isa magnificent contralto of immense range (two octaves and six notes, nearly three octaves, from low E to C in alt), the quality perfectthroughout, even in the lowest notes of the lowest register, whichare generally so disastrous to the majority of singers, who fancy theypossess a contralto, and the emission of which resembles nearly alwaysa rattle, hideous in such cases and revolting to the ear. Mlle. Alboni's vocalization is wonderfully easy, and few sopranos possess suchfacility. The registers of her voice are so perfectly united, that inher scales you do not feel sensible of the passage from one to another;the tone is unctuous, caressing, velvety, melancholy, like that ofall pure sopranos, though less somber than that of Pisaroni, andincomparably more pure and limpid. As the notes are produced withouteffort, the voice yields itself to every shade of intensity, andthus Mlle. Alboni can sing from the most mysterious piano to the mostbrilliant forte. And this alone is what I call singing humanly, thatis to say, in a fashion which declares the presence of a human heart, a human soul, a human intelligence. Singers not possessed of theseindispensable qualities should in my judgment be ranked in the categoryof mechanical instruments. Mlle. Alboni is an artist entirely devoted toher art, and has not up to this moment been tempted to make a tradeof it; she has never heretofore given a thought to what her deliciousnotes--precious pearls, which she lavishes with such happy bounty--mightbring her in per annum. Different from the majority of contemporarysingers, money questions are the last with which she occupies herself;her demands have hitherto been extremely modest. Added to this, thesincerity and trustworthiness of her character, which amounts almost tosingularity, are acknowledged by all who have any dealings with her. "

After the greatness of the artist had fairly-been made known to thepublic, the excitement in Paris was extraordinary. At some of the laterconcerts more than a thousand applications for admission had to berefused, and it was said that two theatres might have been thronged. Alboni was nearly smothered night after night with roses and camellias, and the stage was literally transformed into a huge bed of flowers, over which the prima donna was obliged to walk in making her exits. An amusing example of the _naïveté_ and simplicity of her character isnarrated. On the morning after her second performance, she was seatedin her hotel on the Boulevard des Italiens, reading the _feuilletons_of Berlioz and Fiorentino with a kind of childish pleasure, unconsciousthat she was the absorbing theme of Paris talk. A friend came in, whenshe asked with unaffected sincerity whether she had really sung "_assezbien_" on Monday night, and broke into a fit of the merriest laughterwhen she received the answer, "_Très bien pour une petite fille_. ""Alboni, " writes this friend, "is assuredly for a great artist the mostunpretending and simple creature in the world. She hasn't the slightestnotion of her position in her art in the eyes of the public and musicalworld. "

III. 

Mme. Alboni's great success, it is said, made M. Vatel, the manager ofthe Italiens, almost frantic with disappointment, for, acting on theadvice of Lablache, he had refused to engage her when he could have doneso at a merely nominal sum, and had thus left the grand prize open tohis rival. Her concert engagement being terminated, our prima donna madea short tour through Austria, and returned to Paris again to make her_début_ in opera on December 2d, in "Semiramide, " with Mme. Grisi, Coletti, Cellini, and Tagliafico, in the cast. The caprice of audienceswas never more significantly shown than on this occasion. Alboni, onthe concert stage, had recently achieved an unmistakable and brilliantrecognition as a great vocalist, and on the night of her first lyricappearance before a French audience a great throng had assembled. All the celebrities of the fashionable, artistic, and literary world, princes, Government officials, foreign ministers, dilettanti, poets, critics, women of wit and fashion, swelled the gathering of intentlisteners, through whom there ran a subdued murmur, a low buzz ofwhispering, betraying the lively interest felt. Grisi came on after therising of the curtain and received a most cordial burst of applause. At length the great audience was hushed to silence, and the orchestraplayed the symphonic prelude which introduces the contralto air "Eccomialfin in Babilonia. " Alboni glided from the side and walked slowlyto the footlights. Let an eye-witness complete the story: "There was asudden pause, " says one who was present; "a feather might almost havebeen heard to move. The orchestra, the symphony finished, refrained fromproceeding, as though to give time for the enthusiastic reception whichwas Alboni's right, and which it was natural to suppose Alboni wouldreceive. But you may imagine my surprise and the feelings of therenowned contralto when not a hand or a voice was raised to acknowledgeher! I could see Alboni tremble, but it was only for an instant. Whatwas the reason of this unanimous disdain or this unanimous doubt? callit what you will. She might perhaps guess, but she did not suffer itto perplex her for more than a few moments. Throwing aside the extremediffidence that marked her _entrée_, and the perturbation that resultedfrom the frigidity of the spectators, she wound herself up to thecondition of fearless independence for which she is constitutionally andmorally remarkable, and with a look of superb indifference and consciouspower she commenced the opening of her aria. In one minute the crowd, that but an instant before seemed to disdain her, was at her feet! Theeffect of those luscious tones had never yet failed to touch the heartand rouse the ardor of an audience, educated or uneducated. " Alboni'striumph was instantaneous and complete; it was the greater from themoment of anxious uncertainty that preceded it, and made the certaintywhich succeeded more welcome and delightful. From this instant to theend of the opera, Alboni's success grew into a triumph. During the firstact she was twice recalled; during the second act, thrice; and she wasencored in the air "In si barbara, " which she delivered with pathos, andin the cabaletta of the second duet with _Semiramide_. She followedin "La Cenerentola, " and it may easily he fancied that her hearerscompensated in boisterous warmth of reception for the phlegmaticindifference shown on the first night. 

The English engagement of Mlle. Alboni the following year at CoventGarden was at a salary of four thousand pounds, and the popularity shehad accomplished in England made her one of the most attractive featuresof the operatic season. Her delicious singing and utter freedom fromaught that savored of mannerism or affectation made her power ofcaptivation complete in spite of her lack of dramatic energy. She sangin the same company with Grisi, Persiani, and Viardot, while Mario andTamburini added their magnificent voices to this fine constellation oflyric stars. When she returned to London in 1849, Jenny Lind had retiredfrom the stage where she had so thoroughly bewitched the public, andMlle. Alboni became the leading attraction of Her Majesty's Theatre, thus arraying herself against the opera organization with which she hadbeen previously identified. Among the other members of the company wereLablache and Ronconi. Mlle. Alboni seemed to be stung by a feverishambition at this time to depart from her own musical genre, and shine insuch parts as _Rosina, Ninetta, Zerlina_ ("Don Giovanni ") and _Norina_("Don Pasquale"). The general public applauded her as vehemently asever, but the judicious grieved that the greatest of contraltos shouldforsake a realm in which she blazed with such undivided luster. 

It is difficult to fancy why Alboni should have ventured on so dangerousan experiment. It may be that she feared the public would tire of herluscious voice, unperturbed as it was by the resistless passion andsentiment which in such singers as Malibran, Pasta, and Viardot, hadovercome all defects of voice, and given an infinite freshness andvariety to their tones. It may be that the higher value of a sopranovoice in the music market stirred a feeling in Alboni which had beensingularly lacking to her earlier career. Whatever the reason might havebeen, it is a notorious fact that Mlle. Alboni deliberately forced theregister upward, and in doing so injured the texture of her voice, and lost something both of luscious tone and power. In later years sherepented this artistic sin, and recovered the matchless tones of heryouth in great measure, but, as long as she persevered in her ambitionto be a _soprano_, the result was felt by her most judicious friends tobe an unfortunate one. 

A pleasant incident, illustrating Alboni's kindness of heart, occurredon the eve of her departure for Italy, whither she was called by familyreasons. Her leave-taking was so abrupt that she had almost forgottenher promise to sing in Paris on a certain date for the annual benefit ofFilippo Galli, a superannuated musician. The suspense and anxiety of theunfortunate Filippo were to be more easily imagined than described when, asked if Alboni would sing, he could not answer definitively--"Perhapsyes, perhaps no. " He sold very few tickets, and the rooms (in the SalleHera) were thinly occupied. She, however, had not forgotten her promise;at the very moment when the matinée was commencing she arrived, in timeto redeem her word and reward those who had attended, but too late to beof any service to the veteran. Galli was in despair, and was buriedin reflections neither exhilarating nor profitable, when, some minutesafter the concert, the comely face and portly figure of Alboni appearedat the door of his room. "How much are the expenses of yourconcert?" she kindly inquired. "_Mia cara_, " dolorously responded thebénéficiaire, "_cinque centifranci_ [five hundred francs]. " "Well, then, to repair the loss that I may have caused you, " said the generouscantatrice, "here is a banknote for a thousand francs. Do me the favorto accept it. " This was only one of the many kind actions she performed. 

Mlle. Alboni's Paris engagement, in the spring of 1850, was marked by adaring step on her part, which excited much curiosity at the time, and might easily have ended in a most humiliating reverse, though itsoutcome proved fortunate, that undertaking being the _rôle_ of _Fides_in "Le Prophète, " which had become so completely identified with thename of Viardot. It was owing as much, perhaps, to the insistance of themanagers of the Grand Opéra as to the deliberate choice of the singerthat this experiment was attempted. Meyerbeer perhaps smiled in hissleeve at the project, but he interposed no objection, and indeed wentbehind the scenes to congratulate her on her success during the night ofthe first performance. Alboni's achievement was gratifying to her pride, but it need not be said that her interpretation of _Fides_ wasradically different from that of Mme. Viardot, which was a grandtragic conception, akin to those created by the genius of Pasta andSchröder-Devrient. The music of "Le Prophète" had never been well fittedto Viardot's voice, and it was in this better adaptation of Alboni tothe vocal score that it may be fancied her success, such as it was, found its root. It was significant that the critics refrained fromenlarging on the dramatic quality of the performance. Mlle. Albonicontinued her grasp of this varied range of lyric character during herseasons in France, Spain, and England for several years, now assuming_Fides_, now _Amino_, in "Sonnambula, " now _Leonora_ in "Favorita, "and never failing, however the critics might murmur, in pleasing theultimate, and, on the whole, more satisfactory bench of judges, the public. It was no new thing to have proved that the mass oftheatre-goers, however eccentric and unjustifiable the vagaries of afavorite might be, are inclined to be swayed by the cumulative forceof long years of approval. In the spring of 1851, Mlle. Alboni, amongseveral of her well-established personations, was enabled to appear in anew opera by Auber, "Corbeille d'Oranges, " a work which attained onlya brief success. It became painfully apparent about this time that thegreatest of contralto singers was losing the delicious quality of hervoice, and that her method was becoming more and more conventional. Herornaments and fioriture never varied, and this monotony, owing to theindolence and _insouciance_ of the singer, was never inspired by thatresistless fire and geniality which made the same cadenzas, repeatednight after night by such a singer as Pasta, appear fresh to theaudience. 

Mlle. Alboni's visit to the United States in 1852 was the occasion of acordial and enthusiastic welcome, which, though lacking in the fury andexcitement of the "Jenny Lind" mania, was yet highly gratifying to thesinger's _amour propre_. There was a universal feeling of regret thather tour was necessarily a short one. Her final concert was given atMetropolitan Hall, New York, on May 2, 1852, the special occasionbeing the benefit of Signor Arditi, who had been the conductor ofher performances in America. The audience was immense, the applausevehement. 

The marriage of Alboni to the Compte de Pepoli in 1853 caused a rumorthat she was about to retire from the stage. But, though she gaveherself a furlough from her arduous operatic duties for nearly a year, she appeared again in Paris in 1854 in "La Donna del Lago" and other ofthe Rossinian operas. Her London admirers, too, recognized in the newlymarried prima donna all the charm of her youth. 

In July, 1855, she was at the Grand Opéra, in Paris, performing in "LeProphète, " etc. , with Roger, having contracted an engagement for threeyears. In 1856 she was at Her Majesty's Theatre with Piccolomini, and made her first appearance in the character of _Azucena_ in "IlTrovatore. " Her performances were not confined to the opera-house; shesang at the Crystal Palace and in the Surrey Music Hall. In October shewas again at the Italiens, commencing with "La Cenerentola. " She then, inconjunction with Mario, Graziani, and Mme. Frezzolini, began performingin the works of Verdi. "Il Trovatore" was performed in January, 1857, and was followed by "Rigoletto, " which was produced in defiance of theprotestations of Victor Hugo, from whose play, "Le Roi s'amuse, " thelibretto had been taken. Victor Hugo declared that the representation ofthe opera was an infringement of his rights, as being simply a piracy ofhis drama, and he claimed that the Theatre Italiens should be restrainedfrom performing it. The decision of the court was, however, against theirascible poet, and he had to pay the costs of the action. 

But why should the reader be interested in a yearly record of theengagements of a great singer, after the narrative of the earlystruggles by which success is reached and the means by which successis perpetuated has come to an end? The significance of such a recitalis that of ardent endeavor, persistent self-culture, and unflaggingresolution. Mme. Alboni continued to sing in the principal musicalcenters of Western Europe till 1864, when she definitely retired fromthe stage, and settled at her fine residence in Paris, midst the easeand luxury which the large fortune she had acquired by professionalexertion enabled her to maintain. She occasionally appeared in opera andconcert to the great delight of her old admirers, who declared that theyouthful beauty and freshness of her voice had returned to her. Sincethe death of her husband she has only sung in public once, and then inRossini's Mass, in London in 1871. 

Both the husband and the brothers of Alboni were gallant soldiers in theItalian war of independence, and received medals and other distinctionsfrom Victor Emanuel. Mme. Alboni in private life is said to be one ofthe most amiable, warm-hearted, and fascinating of women, and to takethe deepest interest in helping the careers of young singers by advice, influence, and pecuniary aid. In social life she is quite as much theidol of her friends as she was for so many years of an admiring public. 

JENNY LIND. 

The Childhood of the "Swedish Nightingale. "--Her First MusicalInstruction. --The Loss and Return of her Voice. --Jenny Lind'sPupilage in Paris under Manuel Garcia. --She makes the Acquaintance ofMeyerbeer. --Great Success in Stockholm in "Robert le Diable. "--FredrikaBremer and Hans Christian Andersen on the Young Singer. --Her _Début_in Berlin. --Becomes Prima Donna at the Royal Theatre. --Beginning ofthe Lind Enthusiasm that overran Europe. --She appears in Dresden inMeyerbeer's New Opera, "Feldlager in Schliesen. "--Offers throng in fromall the Leading Theatres of Europe. --The Grand _Furore_ in Every Partof Germany. --Description of Scenes in her Musical Progresses. --She makesher _Début_ in London. --Extraordinary Excitement of the English Public, such as had never before been known. --Descriptions of her Singingby Contemporary Critics. --Her Quality as an Actress. --Jenny Lind's_Personnel_. --Scenes and Incidents of the "Lind" Mania. --Her SecondLondon Season. --Her Place and Character as a Lyric Artist. --Mlle. Lind's American Tour. --Extraordinary Enthusiasm in America. --HerLavish Generosity. --She marries Herr Otto Goldschmidt. --Present Life ofRetirement in London. --Jenny Lind as a Public Benefactor. 

I. 

The name of Jenny Lind shines among the very brightest in the GoldenBook of Singers, and her career has been one of the most interestingamong the many striking personal chapters in the history of lyric music. It was not that the "Swedish Nightingale" was supremely great in anychief quality of the lyric artist. Others have surpassed her in naturalgifts of voice, in dramatic fervor, in versatility, in perfect vocalfinish. But to Jenny Lind were granted all these factors of power insufficiently large measure, and that power of balance and coordinationby which such powers are made to yield their highest results. Anexquisitely serene and cheerful temperament, a high ambition, greatenergy and industry, and such a sense of loyalty to her engagements thatshe always gave her audience the very best there was in her--these weresome of the moral phases of the art-nature which in her case proved ofimmense service in achieving her great place as a singer, and in holdingthat place secure against competition for so many years. 

The parents of Jenny Lind were poor, struggling folk in the city ofStockholm, who lived precariously by school-teaching. Jenny, bornOctober 6, 1821, was a sickly child, whose only delight in her long, lonely hours was singing, the faculty for which was so strong that atthe age of three years she could repeat with unfailing accuracy any songshe once heard. Jenny shot up into an awkward, plain-featured girl, withbut little prospect of lifting herself above her humble station, till she happened, when she was about nine years old, to attract theattention of Frau Lundburg, a well-known actress, who was delighted withthe silvery sweetness of her tones. It was with some difficulty that theprejudices of the Linds could be overcome, but at last they reluctantlyconsented that she should be educated with a view to the stage. The little Jenny was placed by her kind patroness under the care ofCroelius, a well-known music-master of Stockholm, and her abilities werenot long in making their mark. The old master was proud of his pupil, and took her to see the manager of the Court theatre, Count Pücke, hoping that this stage potentate's favor would help to push the fortuneof his _protégée_. The Count, a rough, imperious man, who mayhap hadbeen irritated by numerous other appeals of the same kind, looked coldlyon the plainly clad, insignificant-looking girl, and said: "What shallwe do with such an ugly creature? See what feet she has! and then herface! She will never be presentable. Certainly, we can't take such ascarecrow. " The effect of such a salutation on a timid, shrinking childmay be imagined. Croelius replied, with honest indignation, "If you willnot take her, I, poor as I am, will myself have her educated for thestage. " Count Pücke, who under a rough husk had some kindness of heart, then directed Jenny to sing, and he was so pleased with the quality andsentiment of her simple song that he admitted her into the theatricalschool, and put her under the special tuition of Herr Albert Berg, the director of the operatic class, who was assisted by the well-knownSwedish composer, Lindblad. 

In two years' time the young Jenny Lind had created for herself thereputation of being a prodigy. It was not only that she possessed anexquisite voice, but a precocious conception and originality of style. Her dramatic talent also showed promising glimpses of what was to come, and everything appeared to point to a shining stage career, when therecame a crushing calamity. She lost her voice. She was now twelve yearsold, and in her childish perspective of life this disaster seemedirretrievable, the sunshine of happiness for ever clouded. To become asinger in grand opera had been the great aspiration of her heart. Hervoice gone, she was soon forgotten by the fickle public who had lookedon this young girl as a chrysalis soon to burst into the glory of afuller life. It showed the resolute stuff which nature had put into thisyoung girl, that, in spite of this crushing downfall of her ambition, she continued her instrumental and theoretical studies with unremittingzeal for nearly four years. At the end of this period the recovery ofher voice occurred as abruptly as her loss of it had done. 

A grand concert was to be given at the Court theatre, in which thefourth act of "Robert le Diable" was to be a principal feature. No oneof the singers cared for the part of _Alice_, as it had but one solo, and in the emergency Herr Berg thought of his unlucky young _élève_, Jenny Lind, who might be trusted with such a minor responsibility. Thegirl meekly consented, though, when she appeared on the stage, she shookwith such evident trepidation and nervousness that her little remainingpower of voice threatened to be destroyed. Perhaps the passion andanxiety under which she was laboring wrought the miracle. She sang thearia allotted her with such power and precision, and the notes ofher voice burst forth with such beauty and fullness of tone, that theaudience were carried away with admiration. The recently despised youngvocalist became the heroine of the evening. Berg, the director of themusic, was amazed, and on the next day acquainted Jenny Lind that hehad selected her to undertake the _rôle_ of _Agatha_ in Weber's "DerFreischutz. "

This was the first character which had awakened our young singer'sartistic sympathies, and toward it her secret ambition had long set. She studied with the labor of love, and all the Maytide of her youngenthusiasm poured itself into her impersonation of Weber's beautifulcreation. At the last rehearsal before performance, she sang with suchintense ardor and feeling that the members of the orchestra laid asidetheir instruments and broke into the most cordial applause. "I saw herat the evening representation, " says Fredrika Bremer. "She was thenin the spring of life--fresh, bright, and serene as a morning in May;perfect in form; her hands and her arms peculiarly graceful, and lovelyin her whole appearance. She seemed to move, speak, and sing withouteffort or art. All was nature and harmony. Her singing was distinguishedespecially by its purity and the power of soul which seemed to swell inher tones. Her 'mezzo voice' was delightful. In the night-scene where_Agatha_, seeing her lover coming, breathes out her joy in rapturoussong, our young singer, on turning from the window at the back ofthe stage to the spectators again, was pale for joy; and in that palejoyousness she sang with a burst of outflowing love and life that calledforth not the mirth, but the tears of the auditors. "

Jenny Lind has always regarded the character of _Agatha_ as the keystoneof her fame. From the night of this performance she was the declaredfavorite of the Swedish public, and continued for a year and a half thestar of the opera of Stockholm, performing in "Euryanthe, " "Robertle Diable, " "La Vestale, " of Spontini, and other operas. She laboredmeanwhile with indefatigable industry to remedy certain naturaldeficiencies in her voice. Always pure and melodious in tone, it wasoriginally wanting in elasticity. She could neither hold her notes toany considerable extent, nor increase nor diminish their volume withsufficient effect; and she could scarcely utter the slightest cadence. But, undaunted by difficulties, she persevered, and ultimately achievedthat brilliant and facile execution which, it is difficult to believe, was partially denied her by nature. 

Jenny Lind's tribulations, however, were not yet over. She hadoverstrained an organ which had not gained its full strength, and it wasdiscovered that her tones were losing their freshness. The public beganto lose its interest, and the opera was nearly deserted, for Jenny Lindhad been the singer on whom main dependence was placed. She felt a deepconviction that she had need of further teaching, and that of a qualityand method not to be attained in her native city. Manuel Garcia hadformed more famous prima donnas than any other master, and it was JennyLind's dream by night and day to go to this magician of the schools, whose genius and knowledge had been successfully imparted to so manygreat singers. But to do this required no small amount of funds, and toraise a sufficient sum was a grave problem. There were not in Stockholma large number of wealthy and generous connoisseurs, such as havebeen found in richer capitals, eager to discover genius and lavishin supplying the means of its cultivation. No! she must earn thewherewithal herself. So, during the operatic recess, the plucky maidenstarted out under the guardianship of her father, and gave concerts inthe principal towns of Sweden and Norway, through which she managedto amass a considerable sum. She then bade farewell to her parents andstarted for Paris, her heart again all aflame with hope and confidence. 

II. 

Manuel Garcia received Jenny Lind kindly, who was fluttered withanxiety. The master's verdict was not very encouraging. When he hadheard her sing, "My good girl, " he said, "you have no voice; or, Ishould rather say, you had a voice, but are now on the verge of losingit. Your organ is strained and worn out, and the only advice I can offeryou is to recommend you not to sing a note for three months. At the endof that time come to me, and I'll see what I can do for you. " This washeart-breaking, but there was no appeal, and so, at the end of threewearisome months, Jenny Lind returned to Garcia. He pronounced her voicegreatly strengthened by its rest. Under the Garcia method the youngSwedish singer's voice improved immensely, and, what is more, herconception and grasp of musical method. The cadences and ornamentscomposed by Jenny were in many cases considered worthy by the master ofbeing copied, and her progress in every way pleased Garcia, though henever fancied she would achieve any great musical distinction. Anotherpupil of Garcia's was a Mlle. Nissen, who, without much intellectuality, had a robust, full-toned voice. Jenny Lind often said that it reducedher to despair at times to hear the master hold up this lady as anexample, all the while she felt her own great superiority, the morelofty quality of her ambition. Garcia would say: "If Jenny Lind had thevoice of Nissen, or the latter Lind's brains, one of them would becomethe greatest singer in Europe. If Lind had more voice at her disposal, nothing would prevent her from becoming the greatest of modern singers;but, as it is, she must be content with singing second to many who willnot have half her genius. " It is quite amusing to note how quickly thisdogmatic prophecy of the great maestro disproved itself. 

After nearly a year under Garcia's tuition she was summoned home. TheSwedish musician who brought her the order to return to her dutiesat the Stockholm Court Theatre, from which she had been absent bypermission, was a friend of Meyerbeer, and through him Jenny Lindwas introduced to the composer. Meyerbeer, unlike Garcia, promptlyrecognized in her voice "one of the finest pearls in the world's chapletof song, " and was determined to hear her under conditions which wouldfully test the power and quality of so delicious an organ. He arrangeda full orchestral rehearsal, and Jenny Lind sang in the _salon_ of theGrand Opéra the three great scenes from "Robert le Diable, " "Norma, " and"Der Freischutz. " The experiment vindicated Meyerbeer's judgment, andJenny Lind could then and there have signed a contract with the manager, whom Meyerbeer had taken care to have present, had it not been for thespiteful opposition of a distinguished prima donna, who had an undueinfluence over the managerial mind. 

The young singer returned to Stockholm a new being, assured of herpowers, self-centered in her ambition, and with a right to expect asuccessful career for herself. Her preparation had been accompanied withmuch travail of spirit, disappointment, and suffering, but the harvestwas now ripening for the reaper. The people of Stockholm, though theyhad let her depart with indifference, received her back right cordially, and, when she made her first reappearance as _Alice_, in "Robert leDiable, " the welcome had all the fury of a great popular excitement. Hervoice had gained remarkable flexibility and power, the quality of itwas of a bell-like richness, purity, and clearness; her executionwas admirable, and her dramatic power excellent. The good people ofStockholm discovered that they had been entertaining an angel unawares. Though Jenny Lind was but little known out of Sweden, she soon receivedan offer from the Copenhagen opera, but she dreaded to accept the offerof the Danish manager. "I have never made my appearance out of Sweden, "she observed; "everybody in mv native land is so affectionate and kindto me, and if I made my appearance in Copenhagen and should be hissed!I dare not venture on it!" However, the temptations held out to her, andthe entreaties of Burnonville, the ballet-master of Copenhagen, who hadmarried a Swedish friend of Jenny Lind's, at last prevailed over thenervous apprehensions of the young singer, and Jenny made her firstappearance in Copenhagen as _Alice_, in "Robert le Diable. " "It waslike a new revelation in the realms of art, " says Andersen ("Story of myLife"); "the youthful, fresh voice forced itself into every heart;here reigned truth and nature, and everything was full of meaning andintelligence. At one concert she sang her Swedish songs. There wassomething so peculiar in this, so bewitching, people thought nothingabout the concert-room; the popular melodies uttered by a being sopurely feminine, and bearing the universal stamp of genius, exercisedthe omnipotent sway--the whole of Copenhagen was in a rapture. " JennyLind was the first singer to whom the Danish students gave a serenade;torches blazed around the hospitable villa where the serenade wasgiven, and she expressed her thanks by again singing some Swedish airsimpromptu. "I saw her hasten into a dark corner and weep for emotion, "says Andersen. "'Yes, yes! said she, 'I will exert myself; I willendeavor; I will be better qualified than I now am when I again come toCopenhagen. '"

"On the stage, " adds Andersen, "she was the great artist who rose aboveall those around her; at home, in her own chamber, a sensitive younggirl with all the humility and piety of a child. Her appearance inCopenhagen made an epoch in the history of our opera; it showed me artin its sanctity: I had beheld one of its vestals. "

Jenny Lind was one of the few who regard art as a sacred vocation. "Speak to her of her art, " says Frederika Bremer, "and you will wonderat the expansion of her mind, and will see her countenance beamingwith inspiration. Converse then with her of God, and of the holiness ofreligion, and you will see tears in those innocent eyes: she is great asan artist, but she is still greater in her pure human existence!"

"She loves art with her whole soul, " observes Andersen, "and feels hervocation in it. A noble, pious disposition like hers can not be spoiledby homage. On one occasion only did I hear her express her joy in hertalent and her self-consciousness. It was during her last residence inCopenhagen. Almost every evening she appeared either in the opera orat concerts; every hour was in requisition. She heard of a society, theobject of which was to assist unfortunate children, and to take them outof the hands of their parents, by whom they were misused and compelledeither to beg or steal, and to place them in other and bettercircumstances. Benevolent people subscribed annually a small sum eachfor their support; nevertheless, the means for this excellent purposewere very limited. 'But have I not still a disengaged evening?' saidshe; 'let me give a night's performance for the benefit of those poorchildren; but we will have double prices!' Such a performance was given, and returned large proceeds. When she was informed of this, and that bythis means a number of poor people would be benefited for several years, her countenance beamed, and the tears filled her eyes. 'It is, however, beautiful, ' she said, 'that I can sing so. '"

Every effort was made by Jenny Lind's friends and admirers to keep herin Sweden, but her genius spoke to her with too clamorous and exactinga voice to be pent up in such a provincial field. There had been somecorrespondence with Meyerbeer on the subject of her securing a Berlinengagement, and the composer showed his deep interest in the singer byexerting his powerful influence with such good effect that she wassoon offered the position of second singer of the Royal Theatre. Herdeparture from Stockholm was a most flattering and touching display ofthe public admiration, for the streets were thronged with thousands ofpeople to bid her godspeed and a quick return. 

The prima donna of the Berlin opera was Mlle. Nissen, who had been withherself under Garcia's instruction, and it was a little humiliatingthat she should be obliged to sing second to one whom she knew to be herinferior. But she could be patient, and bide her time. In the mean whilethe sapient critics regarded her with good-natured indifference, andthrew her a few crumbs of praise from time to time to appease herhunger. At last she had her revenge. One night at a charity concert, the fourth act of "Robert le Diable" was given, and the solo of _Alice_assigned to Jenny Lind. She had barely sung the first few bars when theaudience were electrified. The passion, fervor, novelty of treatment, and glorious breadth of voice and style completely enthralled them. They broke into a tempest of applause, and that was the beginning ofthe "Lind madness, " which, commencing in Berlin, ran through Europe withsuch infectious enthusiasm. During the remaining three months of theBerlin season, she was the musical idol of the Berlinese, and poor Mlle. Nissen found herself hurled irretrievably from her throne. It was aboutthis time, near the close of 1843, that Mlle. Lind received her firstoffer of an English engagement from Mr. Lumley, who had sent an agent toBerlin to hear her sing, and make a report to him on this new prodigy. No contract, however, was then entered into, Jenny Lind going toDresden instead, where her friend Meyerbeer was engaged in composing his"Feldlager in Schliesen, " the first part of which, _Vielka_, was offeredto her and accepted. She acquired the German language sufficientlywell in two months to sing in it, but it is rather a strange fact that, though Mlle. Lind during her life learned not less than five languagesbesides her own, she never spoke any of them with precision and purity, not even Italian. 

III. 

After an operatic campaign in Dresden, in the highest degree pleasant toherself and satisfactory to the public, in which she sang, in additionto _Vielka_, the parts of _Norma, Amina_, and _Maria_ in "La Figliadel Reggimento, " Jenny Lind returned to Stockholm to take part in thecoronation of the King of Sweden. Her fame spread throughout the musicalworld with signal swiftness, and offers came pouring in on her fromLondon, Paris, Florence, Milan, and Naples. This northern songstress wasbecoming a world's wonder, not because people had heard, but because thefew carried far and wide such wonderful reports of her genius. Her tourin the summer of 1844 through the cities of Scandinavia and Germanywas almost like the progress of a royal personage, to which events hadattached some special splendor. Costly gifts were lavished on her, herjourneys through the streets were besieged by thousands of admiringfollowers, her society was sought by the most distinguished people inthe land. The Countess of Rossi (Henrietta Sontag) paid her the tributeof calling her "the first singer of the world. " After a five months'engagement in Berlin, the Swedish singer made her _début_ in "Norma, " atVienna, on April 22, 1845. The Lind enthusiasm had been rising tofever heat from the first announcement of her coming, and the prices ofadmission had been doubled, much to the discomfort of poor Jenny Lind, who feared that the over-wrought anticipation of the public would bedisappointed. But when she ascended the steps of the Druid altar andbegan to sing, then the storm of applause which interrupted the operafor several minutes decided the question unmistakably. 

After a brief return to her native city, she reappeared in Berlin, whichhad a special claim on her regard, for it was there that her geniushad been first fully recognized and trumpeted forth in tones which rangthrough the civilized world. She again received a liberal offer fromEngland, this time from Mr. Bunn, of the Drury Lane Theatre, and anagreement was signed, with the names of Lord Westmoreland, the Britishminister, and Meyerbeer as witnesses. The singer, however, was notaltogether satisfied with the contract, a feeling which increased whenshe again was approached by Mr. Lumley's agent. There were many strongpersonal and professional reasons why she preferred to sing under Mr. Lumley's management, and the result was that she wrote to Mr. Bunn, asking to break the contract, and offering to pay two thousandpounds forfeit. This was refused, and the matter went into the courtsafterward, resulting in twenty-five hundred pounds damages awarded tothe disappointed manager. 

Berlin enthusiasm ran so high that the manager was compelled to reengageher at the rate of four thousand pounds per year, with two months'_congé_. The difficulty of gaining admission into the theatre, even whenshe had appeared upward of a hundred nights, was so great, that it wasfound necessary, in order to prevent the practice of jobbing in tickets, which was becoming very prevalent, to issue them according to thefollowing directions, which were put forth by the manager: "Tickets mustbe applied for on the day preceding that for which they are required, by letter, signed with the applicant's proper and Christian name, profession, and place of abode, and sealed with wax, bearing thewriter's initials with his arms. No more than one ticket can begranted to the same person; and no person is entitled to apply for twoconsecutive nights of the enchantress's performance. " Her reputation andthe public admiration swelled month by month. Mendelssohn engaged herfor the musical festival at Aix-La-Chapelle, where he was the conductor, and was so delighted with her singing that he said, "There will not beborn in a whole century another being so largely gifted as Jenny Lind. "The Emperor of Russia offered her fifty-six thousand francs a month forfive months (fifty-six thousand dollars), a sum then rarely equaled inmusical annals. 

The correspondent of the "London Athenaeum" gave an interesting sketchof the feeling she created in Frankfort:

"Dine where you would, you heard of Jenny Lind, when she was coming, what she would sing, how much she was to be paid, who had got places, and the like; so that, what with the _exigeant_ English dilettantiflying at puzzled German landlords with all manner of Babylonishprotestations of disappointment and uncertainty, and native HighPonderosities ready to trot in the train of the enchantress where shemight please to lead, with here and there a dark-browed Italian primadonna lowering, Medea-like, in the background, and looking daggerswhenever the name of 'Questa Linda!' was uttered--nothing, I repeat, canbe compared to the universal excitement, save certain passages ('greenspots' in the memory of many a dowager Berliner) when enthusiasts rushedto drink Champagne out of Sontag's shoe. . . . In 'La Figlia delReggimento, ' compared with the exhibitions of her sister songstressesnow on the German stage, Mlle. Lind's personation was like a piece ofporcelain beside tawdry daubings on crockery. "

Jenny Lind's last appearance in Vienna before departing for England wasagain a lighted match set to a mass of tinder, it raised such acommotion in that music-loving city. The imperial family paid her themost marked attention, and the people were inclined to go to anyextravagances to show their admiration. During these performances, thestalls, which were ordinarily two florins, rose to fifty, and sometimesthere would be thousands of people unable to secure admission. On thelast night, after such a scene as had rarely been witnessed in anyopera-house, the audience joined the immense throng which escorted hercarriage home. Thirty times they summoned her to the window with crieswhich would not be ignored, shouting, "Jenny Lind, say you will comeback again to us!" The tender heart of the Swedish singer was soaffected that she stood sobbing like a child at the window, and threwflowers from the mass of bouquets piled on her table to her frenziedadmirers, who eagerly snatched them and carried them home as treasures. 

On her departure from Stockholm for London, the demonstration was mostaffecting, and showed how deep the love of their great singer was rootedin the hearts of the Swedes. Twenty thousand people assembled on thequay, military bands had been stationed at intervals on the route, andher progress through the streets was like that of a queen. She embarkedamid cheers, music, and tears, and, as she sailed out of the harbor, therigging of the vessels was decorated with flags, and manned, while theartillery from the war vessels thundered salutes. All this sounds likeexaggeration to us now, but those who remember the enthusiasm kindledby Jenny Lind in America can well believe the accounts of the feelingcalled out by the "Swedish Nightingale" everywhere she went in Europe. 

When Mlle. Lind arrived in London, she was received by her friend Mrs. Grote, wife of the great historian, and for several weeks was her guest, the most distinguished men and women calling to pay their respects tothe gifted singer. She secluded herself, however, as much as possiblefrom general society, and it may be said, during the larger part of herLondon engagement, lived in seclusion, much to the disgust of the socialcelebrities who were eager to lionize her. Lablache, the basso, was oneof the first to hear Jenny sing. His pleasant criticism, "Every note waslike a perfect pearl, " got to her ears. The _naïve_ and charming jest bywhich she made her acknowledgment is quite worth the repeating. Steppingto the side of Lablache one morning at rehearsal, she made a courtesy, and borrowed his hat from the smiling basso. She then placed her lips tothe edge and sang into its capacious depths a beautiful French romance. At the conclusion of the song, she ordered Lablache, who was bewilderedby this fantastic performance, to kneel before her, as she had avaluable present for him, declaring that on his own showing she wasgiving him a hatful of "pearls. " Lablache was so delighted by thissimple and innocent gayety that he avowed he could not be more pleasedif she had given him a hatful of diamonds. 

IV. 

Mr. Lumley had prepared the English public for the coming of Mlle. Lindwith consummate skill. The game of suspense was artfully managed to stircuriosity to the uttermost. The provocations of doubt and disappointmenthad been made to stimulate the musical appetite. There was a powerfulopposition to Lumley at the other theatre--Grisi, Persiani, Alboni, Mario, and Tamburini--and the shrewd _impressario_ played all the cardsin his hand for their full value. It had been asserted that Mlle. Lindwould not come to England, and that no argument could prevail on herto change her resolution, and this, too, after the contract wassigned, sealed, and delivered. The opera world was kept fevered by suchartifices as stories of broken pledges, long diplomatic _pour parlera_, special messengers, hesitation, and vacillation, kept up during manymonths. Lumley in his "Reminiscences" has described how no stone wasleft unturned, not a trait of the young singer's character, public orprivate, left un-_exploité_, by which sympathy and admiration could bearoused. After appearing as the heroine of one of Miss Bremer's novels, "The Home, " the splendors of her succeeding career were glowingly setforth. The panegyrics of the two great German composers, Mendelssohn andMeyerbeer, were swollen into the most flowing language. All the secretsof Jenny Land's life were made the subjects of innumerable puffs by theparagraph makers, and her numerous deeds of charity were trumpeted inclarion tones, as if she, a member of a profession famous for its deedsof unostentatious kindness, were the only one who had the right towear the lovely crown of mercy and beneficence. All this machinery ofadvertisement, though wofully opposed to all the instincts of JennyLind's modest and timid nature, had the effect of fixing the popularbelief into a firm faith that what had cost so much trouble to securemust indeed be unspeakably precious. 

The interest and curiosity of the public were, therefore, wrought upto an extraordinary pitch. Her first appearance was on May 4, 1847, as_Alice_, in "Robert le Diable, " a part so signally identified withher great successes. "The curtain went up, the opera began, the cheersresounded, deep silence followed, " wrote the critic of the "MusicalWorld, " "and the cause of all the excitement was before us. It openedits mouth and emitted sound. The sounds it emitted were right pleasing, honey-sweet, and silver-toned. With all this, there was, besides, aquietude that we had not marked before, and a something that hoveredabout the object, as an unseen grace that was attired in a robe ofinnocence, transparent as the thin surface of a bubble, disclosingall, and making itself rather felt than seen. " Chorley tells us thatMendelssohn, who was sitting by him, and whose attachment to JennyLind's genius was unbounded, turned round, watched the audience asthe notes of the singer swelled and filled the house, and smiledwith delight as he saw how completely every one in the audiencewas magnetized. The delicious sustained notes which began the firstcavatina died away into a faint whisper, and thunders of applause wentup as with one breath, the stentorian voice of Lablache, who was sittingin his box, booming like a great bell amid the din. The excitementof the audience at the close of the opera almost baffles description. Lumley's hopes were not in vain. Jenny Lind was securely throned as theoperatic goddess of the town, and no rivalry had power to shake her fromher place. 

The judgment of the musical critics, though not intemperate in praise, had something more than a touch of the public enthusiasm. "It is wantingin that roundness and mellowness which belongs to organs of the South, "observed a very able musical connoisseur. "When forced, it has by nomeans an agreeable sound, and falls hard and grating on the ears. Itis evident that, in the greater part of its range, acquired by muchperseverance and study, nature has not been bountiful to the SwedishNightingale in an extraordinary degree. But art and energy have suppliedthe defects of nature. Perhaps no artist, if we except Pasta, everdeserved more praise than Jenny Lind for what she has worked out of badmaterials. From an organ neither naturally sweet nor powerful, she haselaborated a voice capable of producing the most vivid sensations. In her mezzo-voce singing, scarcely any vocalist we ever heard can becompared to her. The most delicate notes, given with the most perfectintonation, captivate the hearers, and throw them into ecstasies ofdelight. This is undoubtedly the great charm of Jenny Lind's singing, and in this respect we subscribe ourselves among her most enthusiasticadmirers. . . . She sustains a C or D in alt with unerring intonation andsurprising power. These are attained without an effort, and constituteanother charm of the Nightingale's singing. 

"In pathetic music Jenny Lind's voice is heard to much advantage. Indeed, her vocal powers seem best adapted to demonstrate the moregentle and touching emotions. For this reason her solo singing is almostthat alone in which she makes any extraordinary impression. In ensemblesinging, excepting in the piano, her voice, being forced beyond itsnatural powers, loses all its beauty and peculiar charm, and becomes, in short, often disagreeable. . . . Her voice, with all its charm, is ofa special quality, and in its best essays is restricted to a particularclass of lyrical compositions. . . . As a vocalist, Jenny Lind is entitledto a very high, if not the highest, commendation. Her perseverance andindomitable energy, joined to her musical ability, have tended torender her voice as capable and flexible as a violin. Although she neverindulges in the brilliant flights of fancy of Persiani, nor soarsinto the loftiest regions of fioriture with that most wonderful of allsingers, her powers of execution are very great, and the delicate tastewith which the most florid passages are given, the perfect intonation ofthe voice, and its general charm, have already produced a most decidedimpression on the public mind. By the musician, Persiani will be alwaysmore admired, but Jenny Lind will strike the general hearer more. "

Another contemporaneous judgment of Jenny Lind's voice will be ofinterest to our readers: "Her voice is a pure soprano, of the fullestcompass belonging to voices of this class, and of such evenness oftone that the nicest ear can discover no difference of quality from thebottom to the summit of the scale. In the great extent between A belowthe lines and D in alt, she executes every description of passage, whether consisting of notes 'in linked sweetness long drawn out, ' orof the most rapid flights and fioriture, with equal facility andperfection. Her lowest notes come out as clear and ringing as thehighest, and her highest are as soft and sweet as the lowest. Her tonesare never muffled or indistinct, nor do they ever offend the ear bythe slightest tinge of shrillness; mellow roundness distinguishes everysound she utters. As she never strains her voice, it never seems to beloud; and hence some one who busied himself in anticipatory depreciationsaid that it would be found to fail in power, a mistake of whicheverybody was convinced who observed how it filled the ear, and howdistinctly every inflection was heard through the fullest harmony of theorchestra. The same clearness was observable in her pianissimo. When, inlier beautiful closes, she prolonged a tone, attenuated it by degrees, and falling gently upon the final note, the sound, though as etherealas the sighing of a breeze, reached, like Mrs. Siddons's whisper in LadyMacbeth, every part of the immense theatre. Much of the effect of thisunrivaled voice is derived from the physical beauty of its sound, butstill more from the exquisite skill and taste with which it is used, andthe intelligence and sensibility of which it is the organ. Mlle. Lind'sexecution is that of a complete musician. Every passage is as highlyfinished, as perfect in tone, tune, and articulation, as if it proceededfrom the violin of a Paganini or a Sivori, with the additional charmwhich lies in the human _voice_ divine. Her embellishments showthe richest fancy and boundless facility, but they show still moreremarkably a well-regulated judgment and taste. "

Mlle. Lind could never have been a great actress, and risen into thatstormy world of dramatic power, where the passion and imagination ofPasta, Schröder-Devrient, Malibran, Viardot, or even Grisi, wroughtsuch effects, but, within the sphere of her temperament, she was easy, natural, and original. One of her eulogists remarked: "Following her ownbland conceptions, she rises to regions whence, like Schiller's maid, she descends to refresh the heart and soul of her audience with giftsbeautiful and wondrous"; but, as she never attempted the delineation ofthe more stormy and vehement passions, it is probable that she was morecognizant of her own limitations, than were her critics. 

She was not handsome, but of pleasing aspect. A face of placidsweetness, expressive features, soft, dove-like-blue eyes, and veryabundant, wavy, flaxen hair, made up a highly agreeable _ensemble_, while the slender figure was full of grace. There was an air of virginalsimplicity and modesty in every movement which set her apart among herstage sisters. To this her character answered in every line; for, movingin the midst of a world which had watched every action, not the faintestbreath of scandal ever shaded the fair fame of this Northern lily. 

The struggle for admission after the first night made the attempt toget a seat except by long préarrangement an experience of purgatory. Twenty-five pounds were paid for single boxes, while four or fiveguineas were gladly given for common stalls. Hours were spent before thedoors of the opera-house on the chance of a place in the pit. It is saidthat three gentlemen came up from Liverpool with the express purpose ofhearing the new _diva_ sing, spent a week in trying to obtain seats, andreturned without success. No such mania for a singer had ever fired thephlegmatic blood of the English public. Articles of furniture and dresswere called by her name; portraits and memoirs innumerable of her werepublished. 

During the season she appeared in "Robert le Diable, " "Sonnambula, ""Lucia" "La Figlia del Reggimento, " and "Norma, " as well as in a newopera by Verdi, "I Masnadieri, " which even Jenny Lind's genius andpopularity could not keep on the surface. At the close of the season, her manager, Lumley, presented her a magnificent testimonial of puresilver, three feet in height, representing a pillar wreathed withlaurel, at the feet of which wore seated three draped figures, Tragedy, Comedy, and Music. Her tour through the provinces repeated the sensationand excitement of London. Manchester, Liverpool, Edinburgh, andDundee vied with the great capital in the most extravagant excessesof admiration, and fifteen guineas were not infrequently paid for theprivilege of hearing her. For two concerts in Edinburgh Mlle. Lindreceived one thousand pounds for her services, and the management madetwelve hundred pounds. Such figures are referred to simply as affordingthe most tangible estimate of the extent and violence of the Lind fever. 

V. 

Yet with all this flattery and admiration, which would have fed theconceit of a weaker woman to madness, Jenny Lind remained the samequiet, simple-hearted, almost diffident woman as of yore. The greatpianist and composer Moscheles writes: "What shall I say of Jenny Lind?I can find no words adequate to give you any idea of the impression shehas made. . . . This is no short-lived fit of public enthusiasm. I wantedto know her off the stage as well as on; but, as she lives at somedistance from me, I asked her in a letter to fix upon an hour for me tocall. Simple and unceremonious as she is, she came the next day herself, bringing the answer verbally. So much modesty and so much greatnessunited are seldom if ever to be met with; and, although her intimatefriend Mendelssohn had given me an insight into the noble qualities ofher character, I was surprised to find them so apparent. "

From a variety of accounts we are justified in concluding that never hadthere been such a musical enthusiasm in London. Since the days when theworld fought for hours at the pit-door to see the seventh farewell ofSiddons, nothing had been seen in the least approaching the scenesat the entrance of the theatre on the "Lind" nights. Of her variousimpersonations during the season of 1847, her _Amina_ in "Sonnambula"made the deepest impression on the town, as it was marked by severaloriginal features, both in the acting and singing, which were remarkablyeffective. Her performance of _Norma_ was afterward held by judiciouscritics to be far inferior to that of Grisi in its dramatic aspect; but, when the mania was at its height, those who dared to impeach the idealperfection of everything done by the idol of the hour were consignedto perdition as idiotic slanderers. Chorley wrote with satiricalbitterness, though himself a warm admirer of the "Swedish Nightingale":"It was a curious experience to sit and to wait for what should comenext, and to wonder whether it really was the case that music never hadbeen heard till the year 1847. "

Mlle. Lind passed the winter at Stockholm, and it is needless to speakof the pride and delight of her townspeople in the singer who hadcreated such an unprecedented sensation in the musical world. All theplaces at the theatre when she sang fetched immense premiums, especiallyas it was known that the professional gains of Jenny Lind during thisengagement were to be devoted to the endowment of an asylum for thesupport of decayed artists, and a school for young girls studyingmusic. When she left Stockholm again for London, the scene was evenmore brilliant and impressive than that which had marked her previousdeparture for England. 

The "Lind" mania in the English capital during the spring of 1848 ragedwithout diminution. The anecdotes of her munificent charity, piety, and goodness filled the public prints and fed the popular idolatry. Sheadded to her repertoire this season the _rôles_ of _Susanna_ inMozart's great comic opera, _Elvira_ in "Puritani, " _Adina_ in "L'Elisird'Amore, " and _Giulia_ in Spontini's "Vestale. " As _Giulia_ she reachedher high-water mark in tragedy, and as _Adina_ in "L'Elisir" she wasdeliciously arch and fascinating. After the opera had closed, sheremained in England during the summer and winter, owing to thedisturbed state of the Continent, and gave extended concert tours in theprovinces, for which she received immense sums of money. Many concertsshe also devoted to charitable purposes, and splendid acknowledgmentswere made as gifts to her by corporations and private individuals inrecognition of her lavish benevolence. Jenny Lind had now determined totake leave of the lyric stage, and in the April season of 1849 she gavea limited season of farewell performances at Her Majesty's Theatre. Thelast appearance was on May 10th in her original character of _Alice_. The opera-house presented on that night of final adieu one of thosestriking scenes which words can hardly depict without seeming to beextravagant. The crowd was dense in every nook and corner of the house, including all the great personages of the realm. The whole royal familywere present, the Houses of Parliament had emptied themselves to swellthe throng, and everybody distinguished in art, letters, science, orfashion contributed to the splendor of the audience. When the curtainfell, and the deafening roar of applause, renewed again and again, hadceased, Jenny Lind came forward, led by the tenor Gardoni. Sheretired, but was called again in front of the curtain, and bowed heracknowledgments. A third time she was summoned, and this time she stood, her eyes streaming with tears, while the audience shouted themselveshoarse, so prolonged and irrepressible was the enthusiasm. 

Now that the "Lind" fever is a thing of the past, it is possible tosurvey her genius as a lyric artist in the right perspective. Her voicewas of bright, thrilling, and sympathetic quality, with greater strengthand purity in the upper register, but somewhat defective in the other. These two portions of her voice she united, however, with great artisticdexterity, so that the power of the upper notes was not allowed tooutshine the lower. Her execution was great, though inferior to that ofPersiani and the older and still greater singer, Catalani. It appeared, perhaps, still greater than it was, on account of the natural reluctanceof the voice. Her taste in ornamentation was original and brilliant, but always judicious, a moderation not often found among great executivesingers. She composed all her own cadenzas, and many of them were ofa character and performance such as to have evoked the strongestadmiration of such musical authorities as Meyerbeer, Mendelssohn, andMoscheles for their creative science. Her pianissimo tones were so fineddown that they had almost the effect of ventriloquism, so exquisitelywere they attenuated; and yet they never lost their peculiarly musicalquality. As an actress Jenny Lind had no very startling power, and butlittle versatility, as her very limited opera repertory proved; butinto what she did she infused a grace, sympathy, and tenderness, which, combined with the greatness of her singing and some indescribablequality in the voice itself, produced an effect on audiences with butfew parallels in the annals of the opera. It is a little strange thatJenny Lind would never sing in Paris, but obstinately refused the mosttempting offers. Perhaps she never forgot the circumstances of her firstexperience with a Parisian _impressario_. 

It was at Lubeck, Germany, where she was singing in concert in 1849, that she concluded a treaty with Mr. Barnum for a series of one hundredand fifty concerts in America under his auspices. The terms wereone thousand dollars per night for each of the performances, and theexpenses of the whole troupe, which consisted of Sig. Belletti andJulius Benedict (since Sir Julius Benedict). The period interveningbefore her American tour was occupied in concert-giving on the continentand in England. The proceeds of these entertainments were given tocharity, and the demonstrations of the public everywhere proved howfirmly fixed in the heart of the music-loving public the great Swedishsinger remained. Her last appearance before crossing the ocean was atLiverpool, before an audience of more than three thousand people, whenthe English people gave their idol a most affecting display of theiradmiration. 

VI. 

Mr. Barnum, no mean adept himself in the science of advertising, tooka lesson from the ingenious trickery of Mr. Lumley in whetting theappetite of the American public for the coming of the Swedish _diva_. He took good care that the newspapers should be flooded with the mostexaggerated and sensational anecdotes of her life and career, and dayafter day the people were kept on the alert by columns of fulsome praiseand exciting gossip. On her arrival in New York, in September, 1850, both the wharf and adjacent streets were packed with people eager tocatch a glimpse of the great singer. Her hotel, the Irving House, wassurrounded at midnight by not less than thirty thousand people, and shewas serenaded by a band of one hundred and thirty musicians, who hadmarched up, led by several hundreds of red-shirted firemen. The Americanfurore instantly took on the proportions of that which had crazed theEnglish public. The newspapers published the names of those who hadbought tickets, and printed a fac-simile of the card which admitted theowner to the concert building. The anxiety to see Mlle. Lind, when shewas driving, was a serious embarrassment to her, and at the "publicreception" days, arranged for her, throngs of ladies filled herdrawing-rooms. Costly presents were sent to her anonymously, and inevery way the public displayed similar extravagance. On the day of thefirst concert, in spite of the fierce downpour of rain, there were fivethousand persons buying tickets; and the price paid for the first ticketto the first concert, six hundred dollars, constitutes the sole title toremembrance of the enterprising tradesman who thus sought to advertisehis wares. 

Nothing was talked of except Jenny Lind, and on the night of the firstappearance, September 11th, seven thousand throats burst forth infrantic shouts of applause and welcome, as the Swedish Nightingalestepped on the Castle Garden stage in a simple dress of white, and aspallid with agitation as the gown she wore. She sang "Casta Diva, " aduo with Belletti, from Rossini's "Il Turco in Italia, " and the TrioConcertante, with two flutes, from Meyerbeer's "Feldlager in Schliesen, "of which Moscheles had said that "it was, perhaps, the most astonishingpiece of bravura singing which could possibly be heard. " These pieces, with two Swedish national songs, were received with the loudest salvosof applause. The proceeds of this first concert were twenty-sixthousand dollars, of which Jenny Lind gave her share to the charitableinstitutions of New York, and, on learning that some of the members ofthe New York orchestra were in indigent circumstances, she generouslymade them a substantial gift. Her beneficent actions during her entirestay in America are too numerous to detail. Frequently would she flitaway from her house quietly, as if about to pay a visit, and then shemight be seen disappearing down back lanes or into the cottages ofthe poor. She was warned to avoid so much liberality, as many unworthypersons took unfair advantage of her bounty; but she invariably replied, "Never mind; if I relieve ten, and one is worthy, I am satisfied. " Shehad distributed thirty thousand florins in Germany; she gave away inEngland nearly sixty thousand pounds; and in America she scattered incharity no less than fifty thousand dollars. 

To record the experiences of the Swedish Nightingale in the differentcities of America would be to repeat the story of boundless enthusiasmon the part of the public, and lavish munificence on the part of thesinger, which makes her record nobly monotonous. There seemed to be nobounds to the popular appreciation and interest, as was instanced onenight in Baltimore. While standing on the balcony of her hotel bowing tothe shouting multitude, her shawl dropped among them, and instantly itwas torn into a thousand strips, to be preserved as precious souvenirs. 

Jenny Lind did not remain under Mr. Barnum's management during thewhole of the season. A difficulty having risen, she availed herself of aclause in the contract, and by paying thirty thousand dollars broke theengagement. The last sixty nights of the concert series she gave underher own management. In Boston, February 5, 1852, the charming singermarried Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, the pianist, who had latterly beenconnected with her concert company. The son of a wealthy Hamburgmerchant, Mr. Goldschmidt had taken an excellent rank as a pianist, and made some reputation as a minor composer. Mme. Goldschmidt and herhusband returned to Europe in 1852, this great artist having made aboutone hundred and fifty thousand dollars in her American tour, asidefrom the large sums lavished in charity. After several years spent inGermany, M. And Mme. Goldschmidt settled permanently in London, wherethey are still residing. She has frequently appeared in concert andoratorio till within a year or two, and, as the mother of an interestingfamily and a woman of the most charming personal character, is warmlywelcomed in the best London society. It must be recorded that thewhole of her American earnings was devoted to founding and endowing artscholarships and other charities in her native Sweden; while in England, the country of her adoption, among other charities, she has givena whole hospital to Liverpool, and a wing of another to London. The scholarship founded by her friend Felix Mendelssohn has largelybenefited by her help, and it may be truly said that her sympathy hasnever been appealed to in vain, by those who have any reasonable claim. Competent judges have estimated that the total amount given away byJenny Lind in charity and to benevolent institutions will reach at leasthalf a million of dollars. 

SOPHIE CRUVELLI. 

The Daughter of an Obscure German Pastor. --She studies Music inParis. --Failure of her Voice. --Makes her _Début_ at La Fenice. --Sheappears in London during the Lind Excitement. --Description of herVoice and Person. --A Great Excitement over her Second Appearancein Italy. --_Début_ in Paris. --Her Grand Impersonation in"Fidelio. "--Critical Estimates of her Genius. --Sophie Cruvelli'sEccentricities. --Excitement in Paris over her _Valentine_ in "LesHuguenots. "--Different Performances in London and Paris. --She retiresfrom the Stage and marries Baron Vigier. --Her Professional Status. --Oneof the Most Gifted Women of any Age. 

I. 

The great cantatrice of whom we shall now give a sketch attained aEuropean reputation hardly inferior to the greatest, though she retiredfrom the stage when in the very golden prime of her powers. LikeCatalani, Persiani, and other distinguished singers, she was severelycriticised toward the last of her operatic career for sacrificing goodtaste and dramatic truth to the technique of vocalization, but thisis an extravagance so tempting that but few singers have been entirelyexempt from it. Perhaps, in these examples of artistic austerity, one may find the cause as much in vocal limitations as in deliberateself-restraint. 

Sophie Cruvelli was the daughter of a Protestant clergyman namedCruwell, and was born at Bielefeld, in Prussia, in the year 1830. Shedisplayed noticeable aptitude for music at an early age, and a moderateindependence with which the family was endowed enabled Mme. Cruwellto take Sophie, at the age of fourteen, to Paris that she might obtainfinishing lessons. Permarini and Bordogni were the masters selected, andthe latter, who perceived the latent greatness of his pupil, spared noefforts, nor did he spare Sophie, for he was a somewhat stern, austereteacher. For two years he would permit her to sing nothing but vocalscales, and composed for her the most difficult _solfeggi_. Mme. Cruwell then returned to Paris, and insisted that her daughter had madesufficient progress in the study of French and music, and might verywell return home. Bordogni indignantly replied that it would be criminalto rob the musical world of such a treasure as the Fraulein Cruwellwould prove after a few years of study. The mother yielded, saying: "Ifmy daughter devotes herself to the stage and fully embraces an artisticcareer, we may endeavor to submit to further sacrifices; but, ifmerely destined to bring up a family, she has learned quite enough of_solfeggi_; her little fortune will all be swallowed up by her musiclessons. " It was thus settled that Sophie should become a singer, and, in accordance with Bordogni's advice, she proceeded to Milan, Italy, tocomplete her musical studies. 

But a dreadful discovery threw her into despair when she arrived at hernew quarters--she had lost her voice. Not a sound could be forced fromher throat. Sophie was in despair, for this was, indeed, annihilation toher hopes, and there seemed nothing in fate for her but to settledown to the average life of the German housewife, "to suckle fools andchronicle small beer, " when, on the eve of departure for Bielefeld, Signor Lamperti, the famous teacher, announced himself. The experiencedmaestro advised them to wait, reasoning that the loss of voice wasrather the result of fatigue and nervousness than of any more radicaldefect. It was true, for a few days only had passed when Sophie's voicereturned again in all its power. Lamperti devoted himself assiduouslyto preparing the young German singer for her _début_, and at the end of1847 she was enabled to appear at La Fenice, under the Italianized nameof Cruvelli, in the part of _Dona Sol_ in "Ernani. " This was followedby a performance of _Norma_, and in both she made a strong impressionof great powers, which only needed experience to shine with brilliantluster. The fact that her instructor permitted her to appear, handicapped as she was by inexperience and stage ignorance, in _rôles_not only marked by great musical difficulty, but full of dramaticenergy, indicates what a high estimate was placed on her powers. 

Mr. Lumley, the English _impressario_, was at this time scouring Italyfor fresh voices, and, hearing Mlle. Cru veil i, secured her for hiscompany, which when completed consisted of Mmes. Persiani and Viardot, Miles. Alboni and Cruvelli, Signori Cuzzani, Belletti, Gardoni, andPolonini. Mlle. Cruvelli was now eighteen, and in spite of the Lindmania, which was raging at white heat, the young German cantatrice madea strong impression on the London public. Her first appearance was in"Ernani, " on February 19, 1848. The performance was full of enthusiasmand fire, though disfigured by certain crudities and the violence ofunrestrained passion. Her voice, in compass from F to F, was a clear, silvery soprano, and possessed in its low notes something of thedelicious quality of the contralto, that bell-like freshness andsonority which is one of the most delightful characteristics of thehuman voice. Her appearance was highly attractive, for she possessed afinely molded figure of middle height, and a face expressive, winning, and strongly marked. She further appeared as _Odabella_ in "Attila, " andas _Lucrezia_ in "I Due Foscari, " both of which performances were verywarmly received. During the season she also sang in "Nino, " "LucreziaBorgia, " "Il Barbiere, " and "Nozze di Figaro. " Her _Rosina_ in Rossini'sgreat comic opera was a piquant and attractive performance. 

II. 

The prevalence of the Lind fever, which seemed to know no abatement, however, made a London engagement at this period not highly flatteringto other singers, and Mlle. Cruvelli beat a retreat to Germany, whereshe made a musical tour. She was compelled to leave Berlin by thebreaking out of the Revolution, and she made, an engagement for theCarnival season at Trieste, during which time she gave performances in"Attila, " "Norma, " "Don Pasquale, " and "Macbeth, " and other operasof minor importance, covering a wide field of characters, serious andcomic. In 1850 we hear of Mlle. Cruvelli creating a very great sensationat Milan at La Scala. Genoa was no less enthusiastic in its welcome ofthe young singer, who had left Italy only two years before, and returneda great artist. No stall could be obtained without an order at least aweek in advance. 

In April, 1850, she made her first Parisian appearance at the ThéâtreItalien in Paris, under Mr. Lumley's management, as _Elvira_ to Mr. SimsReeves's _Ernani_, and the French critics were highly eulogistic overthis fresh candidate for lyric honors. She did not highly strikethe perfect key-note of her genius till she appeared as _Leonora_ in"Fidelio, " at Her Majesty's Theatre, in London, on May 20, 1851, SimsReeves being the _Florestan_. Her improvement since her first Londonengagement had been marvelous. Though scarcely twenty, Mlle. Cruvellihad become a great actress, and her physical beauty had floweredinto striking loveliness, though of a lofty and antique type. Hersculpturesque face and figure, her great dramatic passion, and thebrilliancy of her voice produced a profound sensation in London. Her_Leonora_ was a symmetrical and noble performance, raised to tragicheights by dramatic genius, and elaborated with a vocal excellence whichwould bear comparison with the most notable representations of thatgreat _rôle_: "From the shuddering expression given to the words, 'Howcold it is in this subterranean vault!' spoken on entering _Florestan's_dungeon, " said one critic, "to the joyous and energetic duet, inwhich the reunited pair gave vent to their rapturous feelings, all wasinimitable. Each transition of feeling was faithfully conveyed, and thesuspicion, growing by degrees into certainty, that the wretched prisoneris _Florestan_, was depicted with heart-searching truth. The internalstruggle was perfectly expressed. "

"With Mlle. Cruvelli, " says this writer, "_Fidelio_ is governedthroughout by one purpose, to which everything is rendered subservient. Determination to discover and liberate her husband is the mainspring notonly of all her actions, and the theme of all her soliloquies, but, even when others likely to annunce her design in any way are acting orspeaking, we read in the anxious gaze, the breathless anxiety, the headbent to catch the slightest word, a continuation of the same train ofthought and an ever-living ardor in the pursuit of the one cherishedobject. In such positions as these, where one gifted artist followsnature with so delicate an appreciation of its most subtile truths, it is not easy for a character occupying the background of the stagepicture to maintain (although by gesture only) a constant commentaryupon the words of others without becoming intrusive or attracting anundue share of attention. Yet Cruvelli does this throughout the firstscene (especially during the duet betwixt _Rocco_ and _Pizarro_, inwhich _Fidelio_ overhears the plan to assassinate her husband) with aperfection akin to that realized by Rachel in the last scene of 'LesHoraces, ' where Camille listens to the recital of her brother's victoryover her lover; and the result, like that of the chorus in a Greekdrama, is to heighten rather than lessen the effect. These may beconsidered minor points, but, as necessary parts of a great conception, they are as important, and afford as much evidence of the master mind, as the artist's delivery of the grandest speeches or scenes. "

"Mlle. Cruvelli, " observes another critic, "has the power of expressingjoy and despair, hope and anxiety, hatred and love, fear and resolution, with equal facility. She has voice and execution sufficient to masterwith ease all the trying difficulties of the most trying and difficultof parts. "

_Norma_ was Sophie's second performance. "Before the first act was over, Sophie Cruvelli demonstrated that she was as profound a mistress of thegrand as of the romantic school of acting, as perfect an interpreterof the brilliant as of the classical school of music. " She represented_Fidelio_ five times and _Norma_ thrice. 

Her features were most expressive, and well adapted to the lyric stage;her manner also was dramatic and energetic. She was highly original, and always thought for herself. Possessing a profound insight intocharacter, her conception was always true and just, while her executioncontinually varied. "The one proceeds from a judgment that never errs, the other from impulse, which may possibly lead her astray. Thus, while her _Fidelio_ and her _Norma_ are never precisely the same ontwo consecutive evenings, they are, nevertheless, always _Fidelio_ and_Norma_. . . . She does not calculate. She sings and acts on the impulse ofthe moment; but her performance must always be impressive, because itis always true to one idea, always bearing upon one object--the vividrealization of the character she impersonates to the apprehension of heraudience. " So much was she the creature of impulse that, even when shewould spend a day, a week, a month, in elaborating a certain passage--acertain dramatic effect--perhaps on the night of performance she wouldimprovise something perfectly different from her preconceived idea. 

Her sister Marie made her _début_ in Thalberg's _Florinda_, in July, with Sophie. She was a graceful and charming contralto; but her timidityand an over-delicacy of expression did not permit her then to displayher talents to the greatest advantage. The brother of the sistersCruvelli was a fine barytone. 

III. 

At the close of 1851 Sophie went again to the Théâtre Italien, and thefollowing year she again returned to London to sing with Lablacheand Gardoni. During this season she performed in "La Sonnambula, " "IlBarbiere, " and other operas of the florid Italian school, charmingthe public by her lyric comedy, as she had inspired them by her tragicimpersonations. Cruvelli had always been remarkable for impulsive andeccentric ways, and no engagement ever operated as a check on thesecaprices. One of these whims seized the young lady in the very height ofa brilliantly successful engagement, and one day she took French leavewithout a word of warning. The next that was heard of Sophie Cruvelliwas that she was singing at Wiesbaden, and then that she had appearedas _Fides_ in "Le Prophète" at Aix-La-Chapelle. Cruel rumors werecirculated at her expense; but she showed herself as independent ofscandal as she had been of professional loyalty to a contract. 

Sophie Cruvelli's engagement at the Grand Opéra in Paris in January, 1854, filled Paris with the deepest excitement, for she was to makeher appearance in the part of _Valentine_ in "Les Huguenots. " The termsgiven were one hundred thousand francs for six months. Meyerbeer, whoentertained a great admiration for Sophie's talents, set to workon "L'Africaine" with redoubled zeal, for he destined the _rôle_ of_Selika_ for her. A fortnight ahead orchestra stalls were sold for twohundred francs, and boxes could not be obtained. The house was crowdedto the ceiling, and the Emperor and Empress arrived some time beforethe hour of beginning on the night of "Les Huguenots. " Everywherethe lorgnette was turned could be seen the faces of notabilities likeMeyerbeer, Auber, Benedict, Berlioz, Alboni, Mme. Viardot, Mario, Tamburini, Vivire, Théophile Gautier, Fiorentino, and others. Theverdict was that Cruvelli was one of the greatest of _Valentines_, andMeyerbeer, who was morbidly sensitive over the performance of hisown works, expressed his admiration of the great singer in the mostenthusiastic words. 

Soon after this, she appeared as _Julia_ in Spontini's "Vestale, " and, as a long time had elapsed since its production, there was aroused themost alert curiosity to hear Cruvelli in a great part, in which but fewsingers had been able to make a distinguished impression. She acted the_rôle_ with a vehement passion which aroused the deepest feeling in theParisian mind, for it was a long time since they had heard an artist whowas alike so great an actress and so brilliant a vocalist. One writersaid, "She is the only cantatrice who acts as well as sings"; said onecritic, "She would have made a grand tragedienne. " Fickle Paris hadforgotten Pasta, Malibran, and even Mme. Viardot, who was then in thevery flush of her splendid powers. 

IV. 

From Paris Mlle. Cruvelli went to London, where she sang an engagementat the Royal Italian Opera, making her opening appearance as_Desdemona_, in the same cast with Tamburini and Ronconi. Her termsduring the season were two hundred and fifty pounds a night. Her otherparts were _Leonora_ ("Fidelio"), and _Donna Anna_ ("Don Giovanni"), andthe performances were estimated by the most competent judges to be ona plan of artistic excellence not surpassed, and rarely equaled, inoperatic annals. Mlle. Cruvelli revived the Parisian excitement of theprevious season by her appearance at the Grand Opéra, as _Alice_ in"Robert le Diable. " The audience was a most brilliant one, and theirreception of the artist was one of the most prolonged and enthusiasticapplause. She continued to sing in Paris during the summer months andearly autumn, and was the reigning goddess of the stage. All Paris waslooking forward to the production of "Les Huguenots" in October with agreat flutter of expectation, when Sophie suddenly disappeared from thepublic view and knowledge. The expected night of the production of "LesHuguenots" on a scale of almost unequaled magnificence arrived, andstill the representative of _Valentine_ could not be found. Sophie hadtreated the public in a similar fashion more than once before, andit may be fancied that the Parisians were in a state of furiousindignation. Great surprise was felt that she should have forfeited soprofitable an engagement--four thousand pounds for the season, withthe obligation of singing only two nights a week. She had abandonedeverything, injured her manager, M. Fould, and insulted the public forthe gratification of a whim. No adequate reason could be guessed at forsuch eccentricity, not even the excuse of an _affaire de coeur_, whichwould go further in the minds of Frenchmen than any other justificationof capricious courses. Her furniture and the money at her banker's wereseized as security for the forfeit of four thousand pounds stipulated byher contract in case of breach of engagement, and her private papers andletters were opened and read. 

About a month after her sudden flight, M. Fould received a letter fromthe errant _diva_, in which she demanded permission to return andfill her contract. M. Fould consented, and accepted her plea of "amisunderstanding, " but the public were not so easily placated, andwhen she appeared on the stage as _Valentine_ the audience hissed herviolently. Sophie was not a whit daunted, but, confident in her power tocharm, put all the fullness of her powers into her performance, and shesoon had the satisfaction of learning by the enthusiasm of the plauditsthat the Parisians had forgiven their favorite. 

Sophie Cruvelli continued on the stage till 1855, and, although herfaults of violence and exaggeration continued to call out severecriticism, she disarmed even the attacks of her enemies by theunquestionable vigor of her genius as well as by the magnificence of avoice which had never been surpassed in native excellence, though manyhad been far greater in the art of vocalization. Her last performance, and perhaps one of the grandest efforts of her life, was the characterof _Helene_ in Verdi's "Les Vêpres Siciliennes, " the active principalparts having been taken by Bonnehée, Gueymard, and Obin. The productionof the work was on a splendid scale, and the opera a great success. "Theaudience was electrified by the tones of her magnificent voice, whichrealized with equal effect those high inspirations that demand passion, force, and impulse, and those tender passages that require delicacy, taste, and a thorough knowledge of the art of singing. No one couldreproach Mlle. Cruvelli with exaggeration, so well did she know howto restrain her ardent nature. " "Cruvelli is the Rachel of the GrandOpéra!" exclaimed a French critic. From these estimates it may besupposed that, just as she was on the eve of passing out of theprofession in which she had already achieved such a splendid place atthe age of twenty-five, a great future, to which hardly any limits couldbe set, was opening the most fascinating inducements to her. The faultswhich had marred the full blaze of her genius had begun to be mellowedand softened by experience, and there was scarcely any pitch of artisticgreatness to which she might not aspire. 

Rumors of her approaching marriage had already begun to circulate, andit soon became known that Sophie Cruvelli was about to quit the stage. On January 5, 1856, she married Baron Vigier, a wealthy young Parisian, the son of Count Vigier, whose father had endowed the city of Paris withthe immense bathing establishments on the Seine which bear his name, and who, in the time of the Citizen King, was a member of the Chamber ofDeputies, and afterward a peer of France. Mme. Vigier resides with herhusband in their splendid mansion at Nice, and, though she has sung onmany occasions in the salons of the fashionable world and for charity, she has been steadfast in her retirement from professional life. Shehas composed many songs, and even some piano-forte works, though hercompositions are as unique and defiant of rules as was her eccentriclife. 

Sophie Cruvelli was only eight years on the operatic stage, but duringthat period she impressed herself on the world as one of the greatsingers not only of her own age, but of any age; yet far greater in herpossibilities than in her attainment. She had by no means reachedthe zenith of her professional ability when she suddenly retired intoprivate life. There have been many singers who have filled a moreactive and varied place in the operatic world; never one who was moremunificently endowed with the diverse gifts which enter into the highestpower for lyric drama. She had queenly beauty of face and form, the mostvehement dramatic passion, a voice alike powerful, sweet, and flexible, and an energy of temperament which scorned difficulties. Had heroperatic career extended itself to the time, surely foreshadowed in herlast performances, when a finer art should have subdued her grand giftsinto that symmetry and correlation so essential to the best attainment, it can hardly be questioned that her name would not have been surpassed, perhaps not equaled, in lyric annals. A star of the first magnitude wasquenched when the passion of love subdued her professional ambition. Sophie Cruvelli, though her artistic life was far briefer than thoseof other great singers, has been deemed worthy of a place among thesesketches, as an example of what may be called the supreme endowment ofnature in the gifts of dramatic song. 

THERESA TITIENS. 

Born at Hamburg of an Hungarian Family. --Her Early MusicalTraining. --First Appearance in Opera in "Lucrezia Borgia. "--Romance ofher Youth. --Rapid Extension of her Fame. --Receives a _Congé_ fromVienna to sing in England. --Description of Mlle. Titiens, her Voice, and Artistic Style. --The Characters in which she was speciallyeminent. --Opinions of the Critics. --Her Relative Standing inthe Operatic Profession. --Her Performances of _Semiramide_ and_Medea_--Latter Years of her Career. --Her Artistic Tour in America. --HerDeath, and Estimate placed on her Genius. 

I. 

Theresa Titiens was the offshoot of an ancient and noble Hungarianfamily, who emigrated to Hamburg, Germany, on account of politicaldifficulties. Born in June, 1834, she displayed, like otherdistinguished singers, an unmistakable talent for music at an earlyperiod, and her parents lost no time in obtaining the best instructionfor her by placing her under the charge of an eminent master, when shewas only twelve years of age. At the age of fourteen, her voice haddeveloped into an organ of great power and sweetness. It was a highsoprano of extensive register, ranging from C below the line to D inalt, and of admirable quality, clear, resonant, and perfectly pure. Theyoung girl possessed powers which only needed culture to lift her to ahigh artistic place, and every one who heard her predicted a commandingcareer. She was sent to Vienna to study under the best German masters, and she devoted herself to preparation for her life-work with an ardorand enthusiasm which were the best earnest of her future success. 

On returning to Hamburg in 1849, she easily obtained an engagement, andwith the daring confidence of genius she selected the splendid _rôle_of _Lucrezia Borgia_ as the vehicle of her _début_. Mme. Grisi had fixedthe ideal of this personation by investing it with an Orientalpassion and luxury of style; but this did not stay the ambition of the_débutante_ of fifteen years. Theresa at this time was very girlish inaspect, though tall and commanding in figure, and it may be fancied didnot suit the ripe and voluptuous beauty, the sinister fascination ofthe Borgia woman, whose name has become traditional for all that isphysically lovely and morally depraved. If the immature Titiens did notadequately reach the ideal of the character, she was so far from failingthat she was warmly applauded by a critical audience. She appeared inthe same part for a succession of nights, and her success became morestrongly assured as she more and more mastered the difficulties of herwork. To perform such a great lyric character at the age of fifteen, with even a fair share of ability, was a glowing augury. 

This early introduction to her profession was stamped by circumstancesof considerable romantic interest. A rich young gentleman, a scion ofone of the best Hamburg families, became passionately enamored of theyoung cantatrice. After a brief but energetic courtship, he offeredher his hand, which Theresa, whose young heart had been touched by hisdevotion, was not unwilling to accept, but the stumbling-block in theway was that the family of the enamored youth were unwilling that hisfuture wife should remain on the stage. At last it was arranged thatTheresa should retire from the stage for a while, the understandingbeing that, if at the end of nine months her inclination for the stageshould remain as strong, she should return to the profession. It wastacitly a choice between marriage and a continuance of her professionalambition. When the probation was over, the young cantatrice againappeared before the footlights, and the unfortunate lover disappeared. 

The director of opera at Frankfort-on-the-Main, having heard Mlle. Titiens at Hamburg was so pleased that he made her an offer, and inpursuance of this she appeared in Frankfort early in 1850, where shemade a most brilliant and decided success. Her reputation was nowgrowing fast, and offers of engagement poured in on her from variousEuropean capitals. The director of the Imperial Opera at Vienna traveledto Frankfort especially to hear her, and as her old contract with theFrankfort _impressario_ was on the eve of expiration, and Mlle. Titienswas free to accept a new offer, she gladly availed herself of the chanceto accept the opportunity of singing before one of the most brilliantand critical publics of Europe. She made her _début_ at Vienna in 1856, and was received with the most flattering and cordial approbation. Sheappeared in the _rôle_ of _Donna Anna_ ("Don Giovanni"), and at theclose of the opera had numerous recalls. Her success was so great thatshe continued to sing in Vienna for three consecutive seasons, andbecame the leading favorite of the public. The operas in which shemade the most vivid impression were "Norma, " "Les Huguenots, " "LucreziaBorgia, " "Le Nozze di Figaro, " "Fidelio, " and "Trovatore"; and herversatility was displayed in the fact that when she was called on, through the illness of another singer, to assume a comic part, she wongolden opinions from the public for the sparkle and grace of her style. 

II. 

The English manager, Mr. Lumley, had heard of Mlle. Titiens and thesensation she had made in Germany. So he hastened to Vienna, and madethe most lavish propositions to the young singer that she should appearin his company before the London public. She was unable to accept hisproposition, for her contract in Vienna had yet a year to run; but, after some negotiations, an arrangement was made which permittedMlle. Titiens to sing in London for three months, with the expressunderstanding that she should not surpass that limit. 

She made her first bow before an English audience on April 13, 1858, as_Valentine_ in Meyerbeer's _chef d'oeuvre_, Giuglini singing the part of_Raoul_ for the first time. She did not understand Italian, but, underthe guidance of a competent master, she memorized the unknown words, pronunciation and all, so perfectly that no one suspected but that shewas perfectly conversant with the liquid accents of that "soft bastardLatin" of the South. Success alone justified so dangerous an experiment. The audience was most fashionable and critical, and the reception of thenew singer was of the most assuring kind. 

The voice of Mlle. Titiens was a pure soprano, fresh, penetrating, even, powerful, unusually rich in quality, extensive in compass, and of greatflexibility. It had a bell-like resonance, and was capable of expressingall the passionate and tender accents of lyric tragedy. Theresa Titienswas, in the truest, fullest sense of the word, a lyric artist, andshe possessed every requisite needed by a cantatrice of the highestorder--personal beauty, physical strength, originality of conception, a superb voice, and inexhaustible spirit and energy. Like most Germansingers, Mlle. Titiens regarded ornamentation as merely an agreeableadjunct in vocalization; and in the music of _Valentine_ she sang onlywhat the composer had set down--neither more nor less--but that wasaccomplished to perfection. 

As an actress, her tall, stately, elegant figure was admirablycalculated to personate the tragic heroines of opera. Her face at thistime was beautiful, her large eyes flashed with intellect, and herclassical features were radiant with expression; her grandeur ofconception, her tragic dignity, her glowing warmth and _abandon_rendered her worthy of the finest days of lyric tragedy. She wasthoroughly dramatic; her movements and gestures were singularly noble, and her attitudes on the stage had classical breadth and largeness, without the least constraint. 

As _Leonora_, in "Trovatore, " she was peculiarly successful, andher _Donna Anna_ literally took the audience by storm, through themagnificence of both the singing and acting. In June she made herappearance as _Lucrezia Borgia_. The qualities which this part demandsare precisely those with which Mlle. Titiens was endowed--tragic power, intensity, impulsiveness. Her commanding figure and graceful bearinggave weight to her acting, while in the more tender scenes she wasexquisitely pathetic, and displayed great depth of feeling. "Com' èbello" was rendered with thrilling tenderness, and the allegro whichfollowed it created a _furore_; it was one of the most brilliant_morceaux_ of florid decorative vocalism heard for years, the upper C inthe cadenza being quite electrical. At the end of the first and secondacts, the heartrending accents of a mother's agony, wrung from thedepths of her soul, and the scornful courage tempered with malignantpassion, were contrasted with consummate power. It was conceded thatGrisi herself never rose to a greater pitch of dramatic truth and power. 

Mlle. Titiens was unable to get an extension of her _congé_, and, muchto the regret of her manager and the public, returned to Vienna earlyin the autumn. Instantly that she could free herself from professionalobligation, she proceeded to Italy to acquire the Italian language, afeat which she accomplished in a few months. Here she met Mr. Smith, themanager of the Drury Lane Theatre, and effected an arrangement with him, in consequence of which she inaugurated her second London season on May3, 1859, with the performance of _Lucrezia Borgia_. Mlle. Titiens sangsuccessively in the characters which she had interpreted during herprevious visit to London, adding to them the magnificent _rôle_ of_Norma_, whose breadth and grandeur of passion made it peculiarlyfavorable for the display of her genius. Near the close of the seasonshe appeared in Verdi's "Vêpres Siciliennes, " in which, we are told, "she sang magnificently and acted with extraordinary passion and vigor. At the close of the fourth act, when _Helen_ and _Procida_ are led tothe scaffold, the conflicting emotions that agitate the bosom of theheroine were pictured with wonderful truth and intensity by Mlle. Titiens. " From London the singer made a tour of the provinces, where sherepeated the remarkable successes of the capital. At the various musicalfestivals, she created an almost unprecedented reputation in oratorio. The largeness and dignity of her musical style, the perfection of avoice which responded to every intention of the singer, her splendorof declamation, stamped her as _par excellence_ the best interpreter ofthis class of music whom England had heard in the more recent years ofher generation. Her fame increased every year, with the developmentof her genius and artistic knowledge, and it may be asserted that nosinger, with the exception of Grisi, ever held such a place for a longperiod of years in the estimate of the English public. 

III. 

During the season of 1860 she added fresh laurels to those which shehad already attained, and sang several new parts, among which maybementioned Flotow's pretty ballad opera of "Martha" and Rossini's"Semiramide. " Her performance in the latter work created an almostindescribable sensation, so great was her singing, so strong andpicturesque the dramatic effects which she produced. One of thesensations of the season was Titiens's rendering of "Casta Diva, " in"Norma. " Though many great vocalists had thrilled the public by theirrendering of this celebrated aria, no one had ever yet given itthe power so to excite the enthusiasm of the public. Mlle. Titiensperformed also in the opera of "Oberon" for the first time, with greatsuccess. But the _pièce de resistance_ of the season was Rossini's greattragic opera. "In Titiens's _Semiramide_, " said a critic of the time, "her intellectuality shines most, from its contrasting with the part sheimpersonates--a part which in no wise assists her; but, as in a picture, shadow renders a light more striking. In the splendid aria, 'BelRaggio, ' the _solfeggi_ and fioriture that she lavishes on theaudience were executed with such marvelous tone and precision that sheelectrified the house. The grand duet with Alboni, 'Giorno d'orrore, 'was exquisitely and nobly impressive from their dramatic interpretationof the scene. "

In 1861 Mlle. Titiens made an engagement with Mr. Mapleson, under whosecontrol she remained till her career was cut short by death. Associatedwith her under this first season of the Mapleson _régime_ were Mme. Alboni, the contralto, and Signor Giuglini, the tenor. Her performancein the "Trovatore" drew forth more applause than ever. "Titiens is themost superb _Leonora_ without a single exception that the Anglo-Italianstage has ever witnessed, " wrote an admiring critic. Among otherbrilliant successes of the season was her performance for the first timeof _Amelia_ in Verdi's "Un Ballo in Maschera, " which was a masterpieceof vocalization and dramatic fire. The great German cantatrice was nowaccepted as the legitimate successor of Pasta, Malibran, and Grisi, and numerous comparisons were made between her and the last-named greatsinger. No artists could be more unlike in some respects. Titiens lackedthe adroitness, the fluent melting grace, the suavity, of the other. "But, " one critic justly remarks, "in passionate feeling, energy, powerof voice, and grandeur of style, a comparison may be established. Incertain characters Grisi has left no one to fill her place. These willbe found mostly in Rossini's operas, such as _Semiramide, Ninetta, Desdemona, Pamira_ ('L'Assedio di Corinto'), _Elene_, etc. , to which wemay add _Elvira_ in 'I Puritani, ' written expressly for her. In not oneof these parts has anybody created an impression since she sang them. They all belong to the repertoire of pure Italian song, of whichGiulietta Grisi was undoubtedly the greatest mistress since Pasta. ThatMlle. Titiens could not contend with her on her own Ausonian soil no onewill deny. Her means, her compass, her instincts, all forbade. Thereis, however, one exception--_Norma_, in which the German singer maychallenge comparison with the Italian, and in which she occasionallysurpasses her. In the French and German repertoire the younger artisthas a decided advantage over the elder, in possessing a voice of suchextent as to be enabled to execute the music of the composers withoutalteration of any kind. Everybody knows that Mlle. Titiens has not onlyone of the most magnificent and powerful voices ever heard, but also oneof the most extraordinary in compass. To sing the music of _Donna Anna, Fidelio, Valentine_, etc. , without transposition or change, and to singit with power and effect, is granted to few artists. Mlle. Titiens isone of these great rarities, and, therefore, without any greatstretch of compliment, we may assert that, putting aside the Rossinianrepertoire, she is destined to wear the mantle of Grisi. "

In no previous season was Mlle. Titiens so popular or so much admiredas during the season of 1862. Her most remarkable performance wasthe character of _Alice_, in Meyerbeer's "Robert le Diable. " "Mlle. Titiens's admirable personation of _Alice_, " observes the critic of aleading daily paper, "must raise her to a still higher rank in publicestimation than that she has hitherto so long sustained. Each of thethree acts in which the German soprano was engaged won a separatetriumph for her. We are tired of perpetually expatiating on the splendidbrightness, purity, and clearness of her glorious voice, and on theabsolute certainty of her intonation; but these mere physical requisitesof a great singer are in themselves most uncommon. Irrespectively of thelady's clever vocalization, and of the strong dramatic impulse which sheevinces, there is an actual sensual gratification in listening to hersuperb voice, singing with immovable certainty in perfect tune. Her German education, combined with long practice in Italian opera, peculiarly fit Mlle. Titiens for interpreting the music of Meyerbeer, who is equally a disciple of both schools. "

IV. 

Mlle. Titiens was such a firmly established favorite of the Englishpublic that, in the line of great tragic characters, no one was heldher equal. The most brilliant favorites who have arisen since herstar ascended to the zenith have been utterly unable to dispute herpreeminence in those parts where height of tragic inspiration is unitedwith great demands of vocalization. Cherubini's opera of "Medea, " a workwhich, had never been produced in England, because no soprano couldbe found equal to the colossal task of singing a score of almostunprecedented difficulty in conjunction with the needs of dramaticpassion no less _exigeant_, was brought out expressly to display hergenius. Though this classic masterpiece was not repeated often, anddid not become a favorite with the English public on account of theold-fashioned austerity of its musical style, Titiens achieved one ofthe principal triumphs of her life in embodying the character of theColchian sorceress as expressed in song. Pasta's _Medea_, createdby herself musically and dramatically out of the faded and correctcommonplace of Simon Mayer's opera, was fitted with consummate skill tothat eminent artist's idiosyncrasies, and will ever remain one of thegrand traditions of the musical world. To perform such a work as thatof Cherubini required Pasta's tragic genius united with the voice ofa Catalani, made, as it were, of adamant and gold. To such an idealequipment of powers, Titiens approached more nearly than any othersinger who had ever assayed the _rôle_ in more recent times. One ofthe noblest operas ever written, it has been relegated to the musicallumber-room on account of the almost unparalleled difficulties which itpresents. 

It is not desirable to catalogue the continued achievements of Mlle. Titiens season by season in England, which country she had adopted asher permanent home. She had achieved her place and settled the characterof her fame. Year after year she shone before the musical world ofLondon, to which all the greatest singers of the world resort to obtaintheir final and greatest laurels, without finding her equal in thehighest walks of the lyric stage. As her voice through incessant worklost something of its primal bloom, Mlle. Titiens confined herrepertory to a few operas such as "Trovatore, " "Norma, " "Don Giovanni, ""Semiramide, " etc. , where dramatic greatness is even more essential thanthose dulcet tones so apt to vanish with the passage of youth. As anoratorio singer, she held a place to the last unequaled in musicalannals. 

In 1875 Mlle. Titiens visited America, on a concert and operatictour which embraced the principal cities of the country. She was wellreceived, but failed, through the very conditions and peculiarities ofher genius, to make that marked impression on the public mind whichhad sometimes, perhaps, been achieved by artists of more shallow andmeretricious graces. The voice of Mlle. Titiens had begun to show thefriction of years, and though her wonderful skill as a vocalist coveredup such defects in large measure, it was very evident that the greatestof recent German singers had passed the zenith of her fascination asa vocalist. But the grand style, the consummate breadth and skill inphrasing, that gradation of effects by which the intention of a composeris fully manifested, the truth and nobility of declamation, that reposeand dignity of action by which dramatic purpose reaches its goalwithout a taint of violence or extravagance--in a word, all those greatqualities where the artist separates from the mere vocalist wereso finely manifested as to gain the deepest admiration of the_cognoscenti_, and justify in the American mind the great reputationassociated with the name of Mlle. Titiens. On her return to Europe, shecontinued to sing with unimpaired favor in opera, concert, and oratorio, until she was seized with the fatal illness which carried her off in1879. Her death was the cause of deep regret among musical circles inEngland and on the Continent, for she left no successor in the lineof her greatness. So far as any survey of the field could justify ajudgment, liable at any time to be upset by the sudden apparition ofgenius hitherto hampered by unfavorable conditions, Mlle. Titiens wasthe last of that race of grand dramatic singers made splendid bysuch beacon lights as Pasta, Malibran, Schröder-Devrient, Grisi, andViardot-Garcia. 

THE END.