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IJBRARY\~~t: OF THE

ITHE GTF T OF
Mr.Albert Stanley







GREAT SINGERS

FAUSTINA BORDONI TO HENRIETTA SONTAG
FIRST SERIES
BY
GEORGE T FERRIS
NEW YORK
D, APPLETON AND COMPANY
1892



Music
COPYRIGHT, 1879,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.



NOTE.
IN compiling and arranging the material which
enters into the following sketches of distinguished
singers, it is only honest to disclaim any originality except such as may be involved in a picturesque presentation of facts. The compiler has
drawn freely from a great variety of sources, and
has been simply guided by the desire to give the
reading public such a digest of the more important incidents in the careers of the celebrities
treated of as should be at once compact, racy,
and accurate. To serve this purpose the opinions
and descriptions of writers and critics contemporary with the subjects have been used at length,
and no means overlooked to give the sketches
that atmosphere of freshness which is the outcome of personal observation. All that a compilation of this kind can hope to effect is best
gained in preserving this kind of vividness, instead of revamping impressions and opinions into
second-hand forms.    Pains have been taken to
verify dates and facts, and it is believed they will
be found trustworthy.



NOTE.

It will be observed that many well-known
singers have been omitted, or treated only incidentally: among the earlier singers, such as Anastasia Robinson, Mingotti, Anna Maria Crouch,
and Anna Selina Storace; among more recent
ones, such as Mmes. Fodor, Cinti-Damoreau, Camperese, Pisaroni, Miss Catherine Stephens, Mrs.
Paton-Wood, Mme. Dorus-Gras, and Cornelie
Falcon. This omission has been indispensable in
a work whose purpose has been to cover only the
lives of the very great names in operatic art, as
the question of limit has been inflexible. A supplementary volume will give similar sketches of
later celebrities.
The works from which material has been most
freely drawn are as follows: Bernard's " Retrospection of the Stage"; Dr. Burney's various
histories of music; Chorley's " Thirty Years'
Musical Recollections "; Dibdin's " Complete
History of the English Stage "; Ebers's " Seven
Years of the King's Theatre"; F6tis's " Biographie des Musiciens"; Hogarth's "Musical
Drama"; Sutherland Edwards's " History of the
Opera "; ArsEne Houssaye's " Galerie des Portraits"; Michael Kelly's " Reminiscences"; Lord
Mount Edgcumbe's "Musical Reminiscences";
Oxberry's "Dramatic Biography and Histrionic
Anecdotes "; Mrs. Clayton's "Queens of Song";
Arthur Simpson's " Memoirs of Catalani"; and
Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians."



CONTENTS.
FAUSTINA     BORDONI.
PAGE
The Art-Battles of Handel's Time.-The Feud between Cuzzoni and Faustina.-The Character of the Two Rivals as
Women and Artists.-Faustina's Career.-Her Marriage
with Adolph Hasse, and something about the Composer's
Music.--Their Dresden Life.-Cuzzoni's Latter Years.Sketch of the Great Singer Farinelli.-The Old Age of
Hasse and Faustina........   7
CATARINA     GABRIELLI.
The Cardinal and the Daughter of the Cook.-The Young
Prima Donna's DePbut in Lucca.-Dr. Burney's Description of Gabrielli.-Her Caprices, Extravagances, and MeetSing with Metastasio.-Her Adventures in Vienna.-Brydone on Gabrielli.-Episodes of her Career in Sicily and
Parma.-She sings at the Court of Catharine of Russia.Sketches of Caffarelli and Pacchierotti.-Gabrielli in London, and her Final Retirement from Art.... 32
SOPHIE ARNOULD.
The French Stage as seen by Rousseau.-Intellectual Ferment of the Period.-Sophie Arnould, the Queen of the
most Brilliant of Paris Salons.-Her Early Life and Connection with Comte de Lauraguais.-HIer Reputation as



CONTENTS.

PAG3
the Wittiest Woman of the Age.-Art Association with
the Great German Composer, Gluck.-The Rivalries and
Dissensions of the Period.- Sophie's Rivals and Contemporaries, Madame St. Huberty, the Vestrises Father
and Son, Madelaine Guimard.-Opera during the Revolution.-The Closing Days of Soplne Arnould's Life.Lord Mount Edgcumbe's Opinion of her as an Artist. 55
ELIZABETH      BILLINGTON     AND    HER   CONTEMPORARIES.
Elizabeth WeichsePs Runaway Marriage.-Dibut at Covent
Garden.-Lord Mount Edgcumbe's Opinion of her Singing.-Her Rivalry with Mme. Mara.-Mrs. Billington's
Greatness in English Opera.-She sings in Italy in 1794 -'99.-Her Great Power on the Italian Stage.-Marriage
with Felican.-Reappearance in London in Italian and
English Opera.-Sketch of Mine. Mara's Early Life.Her Great Triumphs on the English Stage.-Anecdotes
of her Career and her Retirement from England.-Grassini and Napoleon.-The Italian Prima Donna disputes
Sovereignty with Mrs. Billington.-Her Qualities as an
Artist.-Mrs. Billington's Retirement from the Stage and
Dechning Years....... 86
ANGELICA     CATALANI.
The Girlhood of Catalani.-She makes her Debut in Florence.
-Description of her Marvelous Vocalism.-The Romance
of Love and Marriage.-Her Preference for the Concert
Stage.-She meets Napoleon in Paris.-Her Escape from
France and Appearance in London.-Opinions of Lord
Mount Edgcumbe and other Critics.-Anecdotes of herself
and Husband.-Tle Great Prima Donna's Character.Her Gradual Divergence from Good Taste in singing.Bon Mots of the Wits of the Day.-The Opera-house
Riot.-Her Husband's Avarice.-Grand Concert Tour



CONTENTS.                          5
PAGE
through Europe.-She meets Goethe.-Her Return to England and Brilliant Reception.-She sings with the Tenor
Braham.-John Braham's Artistic Career.-The Davides.
-Catalani's Last English Appearance, and the Opinions
of Critics.-Her Retirement and Death.... 132
GIUDITTA     PASTA.
Greatness of Genius overcoming Disqualification.-The Characteristic Lesson of Pasta's Life.-Her First Appearance
and Failure.-Pasta returns to Italy and devotes herself
to Study.-Her First Great Successes in 1819.-Characteristics of her Voice and Singing.-Chorley's Review of
the Impressions made on him by Pasta.-She makes her
Triumphal Debut in Paris.-Talma on Pasta's Acting.Her Performances of "Giulietta" and " Tancredi.'Medea, Pasta's Grandest Impersonation, is given to the
World.-Description of the Performance.-Enthusiasm
of the Critics and the Public.-Introduction of Pasta to
the English Public in Rossini's " Otello."-The Impression made in England.-Recognized as the Greatest Dramatic Prima Donna in the World.-Glances at the Salient
Facts of her English Career.-The Performance of " Il
Crociato in Egitto."-She plays the Male RPle in " Otello."
-Rivalry with Malibran and Sontag.-The Founder of a
New School of Singing.-Pasta creates the Leading Rbles
in Bellini's " Sonnambula" and " Norma" and Donizetti's " Anna Bolena."-Decadence and Retirement.. 171
HENRIETTA      SONTAG.
The Greatest German Singer of the Century.-Her Characteristics as an Artist.-Her Childhood and Early Training.Her Early Appearances in Weimar, Berlin, and Leipsic.She becomes the Idol of the Public.-Her Charms as a
Woman and Romantic Incidents of her Youth.-Becomes
affianced to Count Rossi.-Prejudice against her in Paris,



6                      CONTENTS.
PAGE
and her Victory over the Public Hostility.-She becomes
the Pet of Aristocratic Salons.-Rivalry with Malibran.
-Her DPbut in London, where she is welcomed with
Great Enthusiasm.-Returns to Paris.-Anecdotes of her
Career in the French Capital.-She becomes reconciled
withl Malibran in London.-Her Secret Marriage with
Count Rossi.-She retires from the Stage as the Wife of
an Ambassador.-Return to her Profession after Eighteen
Years of Absence.-The Wonderful Success of her Youth
renewed.-Her American Tour.-Attacked with Cholera
n Mexico and dies........ 197



GREAT SINGERS,
FROM
FAUSTINA BORDONI TO HENRIETTA SONTAG.
FAUSTINA BORDONI.
The Art-Battles of Handel's Time.-The Feud between Cuzzoni
and Faustina.-The Character of the Two Rivals as Women and
Artists. - Faustina's Career. - Her Marriage with Adolph
Hasse, and something about the Composer's Music.-Their
Dresden Life.-Cuzzoni's Latter Years.-Sketch of the Great
Singer Farinelli.-The Old Age of Hasse and Faustina.
I.
DuRING the early portion of the eighteenth
century the art of the stage excited the interests
and passions of the English public to a degree
never equaled since. Politics and religion hardly
surpassed it in the power of creating cabals and
sects and in stirring up animosities. This was
specially marked in music. The great Handel,
who had not then found his true vocation as an
oratorio composer, was in the culmination of his



GREAT SINGERS.

power as manager of the opera, though he was
irritated by hostile factions. The musical quarrels of the time were almost as interesting as the
Gluck-Piccini war in Paris in the latter part of
the same century, and the literati took part in it
with a zest and wit not less piquant and noticeable. Handel, serenely grand in his musical conceptions, was personally passionate and fretful;
and the contest of satire, scandal, and witticism
raged without intermission between him and his
rivals, supported on each hand by princes and
nobles, and also by the great dignitaries of the republic of letters. In this tumult the singers (always a genus irritabile, like the race of poets) who
belonged to the opera companies took an active
part.
Not the least noteworthy episode of this conflict was the feud between two foremost sirens
of the lyric stage, Francesca Cuzzoni and Faustina Bordoni. When the brilliant Faustina appeared in London, as a fresh importation of Handel, who was as indefatigable in purveying novelties as any modern Mapleson or Strakosch, Cuzzoni
was the idol of the public, having succeeded to
that honor after Anastasia Robinson retired from
the stage as Countess of Peterborough. Handel
some years before had introduced Cuzzoni to the
English stage, and, though kept in constant turmoil by her insolence and caprice, had taken great
pains to display her fine voice by the composition



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

of airs specially suited to her. It is recorded that
one morning, after she had refused at rehearsal to
sing a song written for her by the master, such
rage took possession of Handel that he seized her
fiercely, and threatened to hurl her from the
window unless she succumbed. One of the arias
composed for this singer extorted from     Mainwaring, a musician bitterly at odds with Handel,
the remark, "The great bear was certainly inspired when he wrote that song."
Cuzzoni's popularity with the public had so
augmented her native conceit and insolence as
to make a rival unbearable.    Though she was
ugly and ill made, of a turbulent and obstinate
temper, ungrateful and capricious, she deported
herself as if she possessed all the graces of beauty, art, and genius, and regarded the allegiance
of the public as her native right.   London had
indeed given her some claim to this arrogance,
as from the first it had treated her with brilliant distinction, so that fashionable ladies had
adopted the style of her stage dresses, and
duels were fought by the young " bucks " and
"swells " of the time over the right to escort her
to her carriage. The bitterness with which Cuzzoni hated Faustina was aggravated by the fact
that the latter, in addition to her great ability as
a singer, was younger, far more beautiful, and of
most fascinating and amiable manner.     Handel
and the directors of the King's theatre were in



10

GREAT SINGERS.

ecstasies that they had secured two such exquisite
singers; but their joy was destined to receive a
sudden check in the bitter squabbles which speedily arose. Indeed, the two singers did not meet
in battle for the first time, for seven years before
they had been rival candidates for favor in Italy.
Faustina Bordoni possessed remarkable beauty
of figure and face, an expression full of fire and
intelligence, to which she united tact, amiability,
and prudence. As singers the rivals were nearly
equal; for Faustina, while surpassing the Cuzzoni
in power of execution, had not the command of
expression which made the latter's art so pathetic
and touching.   Dr. Burney, the musical historian, and father of Madame d'Arblay, describes Cuzzoni in these words: " A native warble enabled
her to execute divisions with such facility as to
conceal every appearance of difficulty; and so
soft and touching was the natural tone of her
voice, that she rendered pathetic whatever she
sang, in which she had leisure to unfold its whole
volume.   The art of conducting, sustaining, increasing, and diminishing her tones by minute
degrees, acquired for her among professors the
title of complete mistress of her art. In a cantabile air, though the notes she added were few, she
never lost a favorable opportunity of enriching
the cantilena with all the refinements and embellishments of the time. Her shake was perfect;
she had a creative fancy, and the power of occa


FAUSTINA BORDONI.

11

sionally accelerating and retarding the measure
in the most artificial manner by what the Italians
call tempo rubato. Her high notes were unrivaled
in clearness and sweetness, and her intonations
were so just and fixed that it seemed as if it were
not in her power to sing out of tune." The celebrated flute-player Quantz, instructor of Frederick
II., also gave Dr. Burney the following account
of Faustina's artistic qualities: "Faustina had a
mezzo-soprano voice, that was less clear than penetrating. Her compass now was only from B flat
to G in alt; but after this time she extended
its limits downward.    She possessed what the
Italians call un cantar granito; her execution
was articulate and brilliant.  She had a fluent
tongue for pronouncing words rapidly and distinctly, and a flexible throat for divisions, with so
beautiful a shake that she put it in motion upon
short notice, just when she would. The passages
might be smooth, or by leaps, or consisting of iterations of the same note; their execution was
equally easy to her as to any instrument whatever.  She was, doubtless, the first who introduced with success a swift repetition of the same
note. She sang adagios with great passion and
expression, but was not equally successful if such
deep sorrow were to be impressed on the hearer
as might require dragging, sliding, or notes of
syncopation and tempo rubato. She had a very
happy memory in arbitrary changes and embel2



12

GREAT SINGERS.

lishments, and a clear and quick judgment in giving to words their full value and expression. In
her action she was very happy; and as her performance possessed that flexibility of muscles and
face-play which constitute expression, she succeeded equally well in furious, tender, and amorous
parts. In short, she was born for singing and
acting."
Faustina's amiability would have kept her on
good terms with a rival; but Cuzzoni's malice
and envy ignored the fact that their respective qualities were rather adapted to complement
than to vie with each other. Handel, who had a
world of trouble with his singers, strove to keep
them on amicable terms, but without success. The
town was divided into two parties: the Cuzzoni
faction was headed by the Countess of Pembroke,
and that of Faustina by the Countess of Burlington and Lady Delawar, while the men most loudly
declared for the Venetian beauty.
At last the feud came to a climax. On the
20th of June, 1727, a brilliant gathering of rank
and fashion filled the opera-house to hear the two
prime donne, who were to sing together. On
their appearance they were received with a storm
of mingled hissing and clapping of hands, which
soon augmented into a hurricane of catcalls, shrieking, and stamping. Even the presence of royalty
could not restrain the wild uproar, and accomplished women of the world took part in these



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

13

discordant sounds. Dr. Arbuthnot, in alluding to
the disgraceful scene, wrote in the " London Journal" this stinging rebuke: " "Esop's story of the
cat, who, at the petition of her lover, was changed
into a fine woman, is pretty well known; notwithstanding which alteration, we find that upon the appearance of a mouse she could not resist the temptation of springing out of his arms, though it was
on the very wedding night. Our English audience have been for some time returning to their
cattish nature, of which some particular sounds
from the gallery have given us sufficient warning.
And since they have so openly declared themselves, I must only desire that they must not think
they can put on the fine woman again just when
they please, but content themselves with their
skill in caterwauling." The following epigram
was called out by the proceedings of the evening,
which were mostly stimulated by the Pembroke
party, who supported Cuzzoni:
"Old poets sing that beasts did dance
Whenever Orpheus played:
So to Faustina's charming voice
Wise Pembroke's asses brayed."
The two fair cantatrices even forgot themselves so far as to come to blows on several occasions, and the scandalous chronicle of the times
was enlivened with epigrams, lampoons, libels,
and duels in rapid succession. This amusing but
disgraceful feud was burlesqued in a farce called



14

GREAT SINGERS.

" Contretemps, or The Rival Queens," which was
performed at Heidigger's theatre. Faustina as the
Queen of Bologna and Cuzzoni as Princess of
Miodena were made to seize each other by the
hair, and   lacerate each other's faces.    Handel
looks on with cynical attention, and calmly orders
that the antagonists be "left to fight it out, inasmuch as the only way to calm their fury is to let
them satisfy it."
The directors of the opera finally solved the
difficulty in the following manner: Cuzzoni had
solemnly sworn never to accept a guinea less than
her rival. As Faustina was far more attractive
and manageable, she was offered just one guinea
more than Cuzzoni, who learning the fact broke
her contract in a fury of indignation, and accepted
a Viennese engagement. The well-known Ambrose Philips addressed the following farewell lines
to the wrathful singer:
"Little siren of the stage,
Charmer of an idle age,
Empty warbler, breathing lyre,
Wanton gale of fond desire;
Bane of every manly art,
Sweet enfeebler of the heart;
Oh! too pleasing is thy strain.
Hence to southern climes again,
Tuneful mischief, vocal spell;
To this island bid farewell:
Leave us as we ought to beLeave the Britons rough and free."



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

15

II.
FAUSTINA BORDONI, who from the time of her
radiant dbbut was known as the " New Siren," was
the daughter of a noble Venetian family, formerly
one of the governing families of the republic.
Born in the year 1700, she began to study her art
at an early age under Gasparoni, who developed
a beautiful and flexible voice to the greatest advantage. She made her first appearance at the
age of sixteen in Pollarolo's " Ariodante," and her
beauty, which was ravishing, her exquisite voice,
dramatic power, and artistic skill, gave her an immediate place as one of the greatest ornaments of
the lyric stage. She came into rivalry with Cuzzoni even at this early period, but carried off the
palm of victory as she did in after-years. Venice,
Naples, Florence, and Vienna were successively
the scenes of her triumphant reign as an artist, and
she became acknowledged as the most brilliant
singer in Europe. At Vienna she was appointed
court singer at a salary of fifteen thousand thalers.
Here she was found by Handel, who carried her
to London, where she made her dbbut May 5, 1726,
in that great composer's " Alessandro," very appropriately singing Statira to the Roxana of Cuzzoni. Faustina's amiable and unobtrusive character seems to have made her an unwilling participant in the quarrels into which circumstances
forced her, and to have always deserved the eulo


16

GREAT SINGERS.

gium pronounced by Apostolo Zeno on her departure from Vienna: " But whatever good fortune
she meets with, she merits it all by her courteous
and polite manners, as well as talents, with which
she has enchanted and gained the esteem and
affection of the whole court." Throughout life a
sweet temper and unspotted purity of character
made her the idol of her friends as well as of the
general public. Faustina seems to have left London gladly, though her short career of two years
there was a brilliant artistic success. The scandalous bickerings and feuds through which she
passed made her departure more of a pleasure to
herself than to the lovers of music in turbulent
London.
She returned to Venice in 1728, where she met
Adolph Hasse, who was leader of the orchestra at
the theatre in which she was engaged. Faustina,
in the full bloom of her loveliness, was more than
ever the object of popular adulation; and many
of the wealthy young nobles of Venice laid their
names and fortunes at her feet. But the charming singer had found her fate. She and Hasse
had fallen in love with each other at first sight,
and Faustina was proof against the blandishments
of the gilded youth of Italy. Hasse was the most
popular dramatic composer of the age, and had
so endeared himself to the Italian public that he
was known as "il caro Sassone," a title which
had also been previously given to Handel. Hasse



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

17

had commenced life as a tenor singer, but his
talent for composition soon lifted him into a higher
field of effort. His first opera was produced at
Brunswick, but its reception showed that he must
yet master more of the heights and depths of musical science before attaining any deserved success. So he proceeded to Italy, and studied under
Porpora and Alessandro Scarlatti. In a few years
he became a celebrity, and the opera-houses of
Italy eagerly vied with each other in procuring
new works from his fecund talent. Faustina, then
at the zenith of her powers and charms, and Hasse,
the most admired composer of the day, were congenial mates, and their marriage was not long delayed.
Of this composer a few passing words of summary may be interesting. His career was one
long success, and he wrote more than a hundred
operas, besides a host of other compositions. Few
composers have had during their lifetime such
world-wide celebrity, and of these few none are
so completely forgotten now. The facile powers
of Hasse seem to have reflected the most genial
though not the deepest influences of his time. He
had nothing in common with the grand German
school then rising into notice, or with the simple
majesty of the early Italian writers. Himself
originally a singer, and living in an age of brilliant
singers, he was one of the first representatives of
that school of Italian opera which was called into



18

GREAT SINGERS.

being by the worship of vocal art for its own sake.
He had an inexhaustible flow of tunefulness, and
the few charming songs of his now extant show
great elegance of melodic structure, and such
sympathy with the needs of the voice as make
them the most perfect vehicle for expression and
display on the part of the singer. For ten years,
that most wonderful of male singers, as musical
historians unite in calling Farinelli, charmed away
the melancholy of Philip V. of Spain by singing
to him every evening the same two melodies of
Hasse, taken from the opera of "Artaserse."
In 1731 the celebrated couple accepted an offer
from the brilliant Court of Dresden, presided over
by Augustus II., as great a lover of art and literature as Goethe's Duke of Saxe-Weimar, or as the
present Louis of Bavaria. This Testhetic monarch
squandered great sums on pictures and music, and
gave Hasse unlimited power and resources to place
the Dresden opera on such a footing as to make
it foremost in Europe. His first opera produced
in Dresden was the masterpiece of his life, " Alessandro dell' Indie," and its great success was perhaps owing in part to the splendid singing and
acting of Faustina, for whom indeed the music
had been carefully designed. As the husband of
the most fascinating prima donna of her age,
Hasse had no easy time. His life was still further
embittered by the presence and intrigues of Porpora, his old master and now rival, and jealousy



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

19

of Porpora's pupil, Mingotti, who threatened to
dispute the sway of his wife. Hasse's musical
spite was amusingly shown in writing an air for
Mingotti in his " Demofoonte." He composed
the music for what he thought was the defective
part of her voice, while the accompaniment was
contrived to destroy all effect. Mingotti was nothing daunted, but by hard study and ingenious
adaptation so conquered the difficulties of the air,
that it became one of her greatest show-pieces.
A combination of various causes so dissatisfied
the composer with Dresden, that he divided his
time between that city, Venice, Milan, Naples,
and London, though the Saxon capital remained
his professed home. One of his diversions was
the establishment of opera in London in opposition to Handel; but he became so ardent an admirer of that great man's genius, that he refused
to be a tool in the hands of the latter's enemies,
though several of his operas met with brilliant
success in the English capital.
Dresden life at last flowed more easily with
Hasse and Faustina on the advent of Augustus
III., who possessed his father's connoisseurship
without his crotchets and favoritism. Here he
remained, with the exception of a short Venetian
sojourn, till late in life. On the evening of Frederick the Great's entrance into Dresden in 1745,
after the battle of Kesselsdorf, Hasse's opera of
" Arminio " was performed by command of the



20

GREAT SINGERS.

conqueror, who was so charmed with the work
and Faustina's singing that he invited the composer and wife to Berlin. During the Prussian
King's occupation he made Faustina many magnificent gifts, an exceptional generosity in one who
was one of the most penurious of monarchs as well
as one of the greatest of soldiers. Faustina continued to sing for eight years longer, when, at the
age of fifty-two, she retired from the long art
reign which she had enjoyed, having held her position with unchanged success against all comers
for nearly forty years.
III.
IN notable contrast to the career of Faustina
was that of her old-time rival, Cuzzoni. After
the Venetian singer retired from London, Cuzzoni
again returned to fill an engagement with the opposition company formed by Handel's opponents.
With her sang Farinelli and Senesino, the former
of whom was the great tenor singer of the ageperhaps the greatest who ever lived, if we take
the judgment of the majority of the musical historians. Cuzzoni was again overshadowed by the
splendid singing of Farinelli, who produced an
enthusiasm in London almost without parallel.
Her haughty and arrogant temper could not brook
such inferiority, and she took the first opportunity
to desert what she considered to be an ungrateful
public. We hear of her again as singing in dif


FAUSTINA BORDONI.

21

ferent parts of Europe, but always with declining
prestige. In the London "Daily Post" of September 7, 1741, appeared a paragraph which startled her old admirers: " We hear from Italy that
the famous singer, Mrs. C-z-ni, is under sentence
of death, to be beheaded for poisoning her husband." If this -was so, the sentence was never
carried into execution, for she sang seven years
afterward in London at a benefit concert. She
issued a preliminary advertisement, avouching her
"pressing debts" and her "desire to pay them"
as the reason for her asking the benefit, which,
she declared, should be the last she would ever
trouble the public with. Old, poor, and almost
deprived of her voice by her infirmities, her attempt to revive the interest of the public in her
favor was a miserable failure; her star was set
for ever, and she was obliged to return to Holland
more wretched than she came. She had scarcely
reappeared there when she was again thrown into
prison for debt; but, by entering into an agreement to sing at the theatre every night, under
surveillance, she was enabled to obtain her release.
Her recklessness and improvidence had brought
her to a pitiable condition; and in her latter days,
after a career of splendor, caprice, and extravagance, she was obliged to subsist, it is said, by
button-making. She died in frightful indigence,
the recipient of charity, at a hospital in Bologna,
in 1770.



22

GREAT SINGERS.

IV.
ASSOCIATED with the life and times of Faustina Bordoni, and the most brilliant exponent of
the music of her husband, Hasse, Carlo Broschi,
better known as Farinelli, stands out as one of
the most remarkable musical figures of his age.
This great artist, born in Naples in 1705, was the
nephew of the composer Farinelli, whose name he
adopted. He was instructed by the celebrated
singing-master Porpora, who trained nearly all
the great voices of Europe for over half a century;
and at his first appearance in Rome, in 1722, common report had already made him famous. So
wonderful was his execution, even at this early
age, that he was able to vie with a trumpet-player, then the admiration of Rome for his remarkable powers.   Porpora had written an obligato
part to a song, in which his pupil rivaled the instrument in holding and swelling a note of extraordinary purity and volume. The virtuoso's
execution was masterly, but the young singer so
surpassed him as to carry the enthusiasm of the
audience to the wildest pitch by the brilliance of
his singing and the difficult variations which he
introduced. Farinelli left the guidance of Porpora in 1724, and appeared in different European
cities with a success which made him in three
years a European celebrity. In 1727, while singing in Bologna, he met Bernacchi, at that time



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

23

known as the "king of singers." The rivals were
matched against each other one night in a grand
duo, and Farinelli, freely admitting that the veteran artist had vanquished him, begged some lessons from him. Bernacchi generously accorded
these, and took great pains with his young rival.
Thus was perfected the talent of Farinelli, who,
to use the words of a modern critic, was as " superior to the great singers of his own period as they
were to those of more recent times."
After brilliant triumphs at Vienna, Rome,
Naples, and Parma, where he surpassed the most
formidable rivals and was heaped with riches and
honors, he appeared before the Emperor Charles
VI. of Germany, a momentous occasion in his artcareer. " You have hitherto excited only astonishment and admiration," said the imperial connoisseur, " but you have never touched the heart.
It would be easy for you to create emotion, if you
would but be more simple and natural." The
singer adopted this counsel, and became the most
pathetic as he continued to be the most brilliant
of singers.
The interest of Farinelli's London career will
be augmented for the lovers of music by its connection with the contests carried on between Handel and his rivals, with which we have seen Faustina and Cuzzoni also to have been intimately
associated. When Handel went on the Continent
to secure artists for the year 1734, some prejudice
3



24

GREAT SINGERS.

operated against his negotiation with Farinelli,
%and the latter took service with Porpora, who had
been secured by the Pembroke faction to lead the
rival opera. Farinelli's singing turned the scale
in favor of Handel's enemies, who had previously
hardly been able to keep the enterprise on its feet,
and had run in debt nineteen thousand pounds.
He made his first appearance at the Lincoln's Inn
Opera in " Artaserse," one of Hasse's operas. Several of the songs, however, were composed by
Riccardo Broschi, the singer's brother, especially
for him, and these interpolations illustrated the
powers of Farinelli in the most effective manner.
In one of these the first note was taken with-such
delicacy, swelled by minute degrees to such an
amazing volume, and afterward diminished in the
same manner to a mere point, that it was applauded for full five minutes. Afterward he set off
with such brilliance and rapidity of execution
that the violins could not keep pace with him.
An incident commemorated in Hogarth's "Rake's
Progress " occurred at this time. A lady of rank,
carried beyond herself by admiration of the great
singer, leaned out of her box and exclaimed,
"One God and one Farinelli! " The great power
of this singer's art is also happily set forth in the
following anecdote: He was to appear for the
first time with Senesino, another great singer, who
of course was jealous of Farinelli's unequaled renown. The former had the part of a fierce tyrant,



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

25

and Farinelli that of a hero in chains. But in the
course of the first song by his rival, Senesino forgot his assumed part altogether.    He was so
moved and delighted that, in front of an immense
audience, he rushed forward, clasped Farinelli in
his arms, and burst into tears. Never had there
been such a ferment among English patrons of
opera as was made by Farinelli's singing. The
Prince of Wales gave him a gold snuff-box set
with diamonds and rubies, in which were inclosed
diamond knee-buckles, and a purse of one hundred
guineas. The courtiers and nobles followed in
the wake of the Prince, and the costliest offerings
were lavished on this spoiled favorite of art. His
income during three years in London was five
thousand pounds a year, to which must be added
quite as much more in gratuities and presents of
different kinds. On his return to Italy he built a
splendid mansion, which he christened the " English Folly."
Farinelli's Spanish life was the most important episode in his career, if twenty-five years of
experience may be called an episode. His purpose in visiting Madrid in 1736 was to spend but
a few months; but he arrived in the Spanish capital at a critical moment, and Fate decreed that
he should take up a long residence here-a residence marked by circumstances and honors without parallel in the life of any other singer. Philip
V. at this time was such a prey to depression that



26

GREAT SINGERS.

he neglected all the affairs of his kingdom. When
Farinelli arrived, the Queen arranged a concert at
which the monarch could hear the great singer
without being seen. The effect was remarkable,
and Farinelli gained the respect, admiration, and
favor of the whole court. When he was asked
by the grateful monarch to name his own reward,
he answered that his best recompense would be to
know that the King was again reconciled to performing the active duties of his state.  Philip
considered that he owed his cure to the powers of
Farinelli.  The final result was that the singer
separated himself from the world of art for ever,
and accepted a salary of fifty thousand francs to
sing for the King, as David harped for the mad
King Saul. Farinelli told Dr. Burney that during
ten years he sang four songs to the King every
night without any change. When Ferdinand VI.,
who was also a victim to his father's malady, succeeded to the throne, the singer continued to perform his minstrel cure, and acquired such enormous power and influence that all court favor and
office depended on his breath. Though never prime
minister, Farinelli's political advice had such
weight with Ferdinand, that generals, secretaries,
ambassadors, and other high officials consulted
with him, and attended his levee, as being the
power behind the throne.     Farinelli acquired
great wealth, but no malicious pen has ever
ascribed to him any of the corrupt arts by which



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

27

royal favorites are wont to accumulate the spoils
of office. In his prosperity he never forgot prudence, modesty, and moderation.     Hearing one
day an old veteran officer complain that the King
ignored his thirty years of service while he enriched " a miserable actor," Farinelli secured promotion for the grumbler, and, giving the commission to the abashed soldier, mildly taxed him for
calling the King ungrateful. According to another
anecdote, he requested an embassy for one of the
courtiers. "Do you not know," said the King,
"that this grandee is your deadly enemy?"
"True," replied Farinelli; " and this is the way
I propose to get revenge." Dr. Burney also relates the following anecdote: A tailor, who
brought him a splendid court costume, refused
any pay but a single song. After long refusal
Farinelli's good nature yielded, and he sang to
the enraptured man of the needle and shears, not
one, but several songs. After concluding he said:
" I, too, am proud, and that is the reason perhaps
of my advantage over other singers.      I have
yielded to you; it is but just that you should
yield to me." Thereupon he forced on the tailor
more than double the price of the clothes.
Farinelli's influence as a politician was always
cast on the side of national honor and territorial
integrity. When the new King, Charles III.,
ascended the throne, being even then committed
to the Franco-Neapolitan imbroglio, which was



28

GREAT SINGERS.

such a dark spot in the Spanish history of that
time, Farinelli left Spain at the royal suggestion,
which amounted to a command. The remaining
twenty years of his life he resided in a splendid
palace near Bologna, where he devoted his time
and attention to patronage of learning and the
arts.  He collected a noble gallery of paintings
from the hands of the principal Italian and Spanish masters. Among them was one representing
himself in a group with Metastasio and Faustina
Bordoni, for whose greatness as an artist and
beauty of character he always expressed the
warmest admiration.   Though Farinelli was all
his life an idol with the women, his appearance
was not prepossessing. Dibdin, speaking of him
at the age of thirty, says he "was tall as a giant
and as thin as a shadow; therefore, if he had
grace, it could only be of a sort to be envied by
a penguin or a spider."
To his supreme merit as an artist we have,
however, overwhelming testimony.     Out of the
many enthusiastic descriptions of his singing, that
of Mancini, after Porpora the greatest singingmaster of the age, and the fellow pupil with Farinelli under Bernacchi, will serve: "His voice was
thought a marvel because it was so perfect, so
powerful, so sonorous, and so rich in its extent,
both in the high and low parts of the register,
that its equal has neyer been heard. He was,
moreover, endowed with a creative genius which



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

29

inspired him with embellishments so new and so
astonishing that no one was able to imitate them.
The art of taking and keeping the breath so softly
and easily that no one could perceive it, began
and died with him. The qualities in which he
excelled were the evenness of his voice, the art of
swelling its sound, the portamento, the union of
the registers, a surprising agility, a graceful and
pathetic style, and a shake as admirable as it was
rare. There was no branch of the art which he
did not carry to the highest pitch of perfection.
*.. The successes of his youth did not prevent
him from continuing to study, and this great
artist applied himself with so much perseverance
that he contrived to change in some measure his
style, and to acquire another and superior method,
when his name was already famous and his fortune brilliant."
V.
LET us return from the consideration of Faustina's most brilliant contemporary to Hasse and
his wife. We have already seen that this great
prima donna retired from the stage in 1753, at the
age of fifty-two. The life of the distinguished
couple during this period is described with much
pictorial vividness in a musical novel, published
several years since, under the name of " Alcestis,"
which also gives an excellent idea of German art
and music generally.    In 1760 Hasse suffered



30

GREAT SINGERS.

greatly from the bombardment of Dresden by the
Prussians, losing among other property all his
manuscripts in the destruction of the opera-house
-a fact which may partly account for the oblivion into which this once admired composer has
passed. The loss was peculiarly unfortunate, for
the publication of Hasse's works was then about
to commence at the expense of the King. He
and his wife removed to Vienna, where they remained till 1775, when they retired to Venice,
Faustina's birthplace. Two years before this Dr.
Burney visited them at their handsome house in
the Landstrasse in Berlin, and found them a humdrum couple-Hasse groaning with the gout, and
the once lovely Faustina transformed into a jolly
old woman of seventy-two, with two charming
daughters. As he approached the house with the
Abate Taruffi, Faustina, seeing them, came down
to meet them. Says the Doctor: " I was presented to her by my conductor, and found her a short,
brown, sensible, lively old lady, who expressed
herself much pleased to meet a cavaliere 1nglesi,
as she had been honored with great marks of
favor in England. Signor Hasse soon entered the
room. He is tall and rather large in size, but it
is easy to imagine that in his younger days he
must have been a robust and fine figure; great
gentleness and goodness appear in his countenance
and manners."
Going to see them a second time, the Doctor



FAUSTINA BORDONI.

31

was received by the whole family with much cordiality. He says Faustina was very intelligent,
animated, and curious concerning what was going
on in the world. She had a wonderful store of
musical reminiscences, and showed remains of the
splendid beauty for which her youth was celebrated. But her voice was all gone. Dr. Burney
asked her to sing. " Ah! Non posso; ho perduto
tutte le mie facolt."  (" Alas! I am no longer
able; I have lost all my faculty.") "I was extremely fascinated," said the Doctor, "with the
conversation of Signor Hasse. He was easy, communicative, and rational, equally free from pedantry, pride, and prejudice. He spoke ill of no one,
but on the contrary did justice to the talents of
several composers, among them    Porpora, who,
though he was his first master, was afterward his
greatest rival." Though his fingers were gouty,
he played on the piano for his visitor, and his
beautiful daughters sang. One was a "sweet
soprano," the other a "rich and powerful contralto, fit for any church or theatre in Europe";
both girls "having good shakes," and " such an
expression, taste, and steadiness as it is natural to
expect in the daughters and scholars of Signor
Hasse and Signora Faustina."
There are two pictures of Faustina Bordoni in
existence. One is in Hawkins's " History," showing her in youth. Brilliant large black eyes, splendid hair, regular features, and a fascinating sweet


32

GREAT SINGERS.

ness of expression, attest how lovely she must have
been in the heyday of her charms. The other
represents her as an elderly person, handsomely
dressed, with an animated, intelligent countenance. Faustina died in 1793, at the age of
ninety-two, and Hasse not long after, at the age
of ninety-four.
CATARINA GABRIELLI.
The Cardinal and the Daughter of the Cook.-The Young Prima
Donna's Debut in Lucca.-Dr. Burney's Description of Gabrielli.-Her Caprices, Extravagances, and Meeting with Metastasio.-Her Adventures in Vienna.-Brydone on Gabrielli.Episodes of her Career in Sicily and Parma.-She sings at the
Court of Catharine of Russia.-Sketches of Caffarelli and Pacchierotti.-Gabrielli in London, and her Final Retirement
from Art.
I.
ONE   of the great dignitaries of the Papal
Court during the middle of the eighteenth century was the celebrated Cardinal Gabrielli. He
was one day walking in his garden, when a flood
of delicious, untutored notes burst on his ear, resolving itself finally into a brilliant carietta by Galuppi. The pretty little nymph who had poured
out these wild-wood notes proved to be the daughter of his favorite cook. Catarina's beauty of person and voice had already excited the hopes of her
father, and he frequently took her to the Argen


CATARINA GABRIELLI.

33

tina Theatre, where her quick ear caught all the
tunes she heard; but the humble cook could not
put the child in the way of further instruction
and training. When Cardinal Gabrielli heard
that enchanting but uncultivated voice, he called
the little Catarina and made her sing her whole
stock of arias, a mandate she willingly obeyed.
He was delighted with her talent, and took on
himself the care of her musical education. She
was first placed under the charge of Garcia (Lo
Spagnoletto), and afterward of Porpora.      The
Cardinal kept a keen oversight of her. instruction, and frequently organized concerts, where
her growing talents were shown, to the great delight of the brilliant Roman society. Catarina's
training was completed in the conservatory of
L'Ospidaletto at Venice, while it was under the
direction of Sacchini, who succeeded Galuppi.
" La Cuochettina," as she was called from her
father's profession, made her first appearance in
Galuppi's " Sofonisba " in Lucca, after five years
of severe training. She was beautiful, intelligent,
witty, full of liveliness and grace, with an expression full of coquettish charm and espieglerie. Her
acting was excellent, and her singing already that
of a brilliant and finished vocalist. It is not a
marvel that the excitable Italian audience received her with the most passionate plaudits of
admiration. Her stature was low, but Dr. Burney
describes her in the following terms: " There was



34

GREAT SINGERS.

such grace and dignity in her gestures and deportment as caught every unprejudiced eye; indeed,
she filled the stage, and occupied the attention of
the spectators so much, that they could look at
nothing else while she was in view." No indication of her mean origin betrayed itself in her face
or figure, for she carried herself with all the
haughty grandeur of a Roman matyon. Her
voice, though not powerful, was of exquisite
quality and wonderful extent, its compass being
nearly two octaves and a half, and perfectly
equable throughout. Her facility in vocalization
was extraordinary, and her execution is described
by Dr. Burney as rapid, but never so excessive as
to cease to be agreeable; but in slow movements
her pathetic tones, as is often the case with performers renowned for "dexterity," were not sufficiently touching.. The young chevaliers of Lucca were wild over
the new operatic star; for her talent, beauty, and
fascination made her a paragon of attraction, and
her capricious whims and coquetries riveted the
chains in which she held her admirers. Catarina,
however she may have felt pleased at lordly tributes of devotion, and willing to accept substantial
proofs of their sincerity, lavished her friendship
for the most part on her own comrades, and became specially devoted to the singer Guardagni,
whose rare artistic excellence made him a valuable mentor to the young prima donna. Three



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

35

years after her debut her reputation had become
national, and we find her singing at Naples in the
San Carlo. The aged poet Metastasio, a name so
imperishably connected with the development of
the Italian opera, became one of her bond slaves.
Gabrielli was wont to use her admirers for artistic
advantage, and she learned certain invaluable lessons in the delivery of recitative and the higher
graces of her art from one whose experience and
knowledge were infinitely higher and more suggestive than those of a mere singing-master.
The courtly poet, the pet of rank and beauty for
nearly fifty years, sighed in vain at the feet of
this inexorable coquette, and shared 'his disappointment with a host of other distinguished suitors, who showered costly gifts at the shrine of
beauty, and were compelled to content themselves
with kissing her hand as a reward.
Metastasio's interest, unchecked by the disdain of the capricious beauty, succeeded in obtaining for her the position of court singer at Vienna,
where the Emperor, Francis I., was one of her admirers. She soon created as great a furor among
the gallants of the Austrian capital as she had in
Italy. Swords were drawn freely in the quarrels
which she delighted to foster, and dueling became
a mania with those who aspired to her favor.
The passions she instigated sometimes took eccentric courses. The French Ambassador, who loved
her madly, suspected the Portuguese Minister of



36

GREAT SINGERS.

being more' successful than himself with the lovely
Gabrielli. His suspicions being confirmed at ons
of his visits, he drew his sword in a transport of
rage, and all that saved the operatic stage one of
its most brilliant lights was the whalebone bodice,
which broke the point of the furious Frenchman's
rapier. The sight of the bleeding beauty-for she
received a slight scratch-brought the diplomat
to his senses. Falling on his knees, he poured
forth his remorse in passionate self-reproaches,
but only received his pardon on the most humiliating terms, namely, that he should present her
with the weapon which had so nearly pierced her
heart, on which was to be inscribed this memento
of the jealous madness of its owner: " j)6ee de
31--, qui osa fracpper La Gabrielli."    Only
Metastasio's persuasions (for Gabrielli prized his
friendship and advice as much as she trifled with
him in a different rdle) persuaded her to spare the
Frenchman the insufferable ridicule which her retention of the telltale sword would have imposed
on one whose rank and station could ill afford to
be made the laughing-stock of his times.
The siren's infinite caprices furnished the most
interesting  chronique scandaleuse of Vienna.
Brydone in his " Tour " tells us that it was fortunate for humanity that the fair cantatrice had so
many faults; for, had she been more perfect,
"she must have made dreadful havoc in the
world; though, with all her deficiencies," he says,



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

37

" she was supposed to have achieved more conquests than any one woman breathing." Her caprice was so stubborn, that neither interest, nor
threats, nor punishment had the least power over
it; she herself declared that she could not command it, but that it for the most part commanded
her. The best expedient to induce her to sing
when she was in a bad humor was to prevail upon
her favorite lover to place himself in the principal
seat of the pit, or the front of a box, and, if they
were on good terms-which was seldom the case,
however-she should address her tender airs to
him, and exert herself to the utmost. When Brydone was in Sicily, her lover promised to give him
an example of his power over her. " He took his
seat accordingly; but Gabrielli, probably suspecting the connivance, would take no notice of him;
so even this expedient does not always succeed."
II.
WHEN Gabrielli left Vienna for Sicily in 1765,
she was laden with riches, for her manifold extravagances were generally incurred at the expense of somebody else; and 8he continued at
Palermo the same eccentric, capricious, and flighty
conduct which had made her name synonymous
with everything reckless and daring in contravening propriety. She treated the highest dignitaries with the same insolence which she displayed
toward operatic managers. Even the Viceroy of



38

GREAT SINGERS.

Sicily, standing in the very place of royalty, was
made the victim of wanton impertinence. The
Viceroy gave a dinner in honor of La Gabrielli, to
which were invited the proudest nobles of the
court; and, as she did not appear at the appointed
hour, a servant was sent to her apartments. She
was found en cldshabille dawdling over a book, and
affected to have forgotten the viceregal invitation
-a studied insult, hardly to be endured. This
insolence, however, was overlooked by the representative of royal authority, and it was not till
the proud beauty's caprices caused her to seriously
neglect her artistic duties that she felt the weight
of his displeasure. When he sent a remonstrance
against her singing sotto voce on the stage, she said
she might be forced to cry, but not to sing. The
exasperated ruler ordered her to prison for twelve
days. Her caprice was here shown by giving the
costliest entertainments to her fellow prisoners,
who were of all classes from debtors to bandits,
paying their debts, distributing great sums among
the indigent, and singing her most beautiful songs
in an enchanting manner. When she was released
she was followed by the grateful tears and blessings of those she had so lavishly benefited in jail.
This fascinating creature seems all through life to
have been good on impulse and bad on principle.
Three years after this Gabrielli was singing in
Parma, where she made a speedy conquest of the
Infante, Don Ferdinand. His boundless wealth



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

39

condoned the ugliness of his person in the eyes of
the singer, and the lavish income he placed at her
disposal gratified her boundless extravagances,
while it did not prevent her from being gracious
to the Infante's many rivals and would-be successors. Bitter quarrels and recriminations ensued,
and the jealous ravings of Catarina's princely admirer were more than matched by the fierce sarcasms and shrill clamor of the beautiful virago.
One day Don Ferdinand, justly suspecting her of
gross unfaithfulness, assailed her with unusual
fury, to which she replied by terming him a gobbo malacletto (accursed hunchback). On this the
Prince, carried beyond all control, had her imprisoned on some legal pretext, though Gabrielli found
proofs of love struggling with his anger in the
magnificence of the apartment and luxuriance of
the service bestowed on her. But he strove in
vain to make his peace. The offended coquette
was implacable, and disdained alike his excuses
and protestations of devotion. One night she escaped from her prison, scaled the garden-wall, and
fled, leaving her weak and disconsolate lover to cool
his sighs in tears of unavailing regret.
The court of the Semiramis of the North,
Catharine II. of Russia, who strove to expunge
the contempt felt for her as a woman by Europe
through the imperial munificence with which she
played at patronizing art and literature, was the
next scene of the fair Italian's triumph. Gabrielli



40

GREAT SINGERS.

was received with lavish favor, but the Empress
frowned when she heard the pecuniary demands
of the singer. "Five thousand ducats! " she said,
in amazement. " Why, I don't give more than
that to one of my field-marshals." "Very well,"
replied the audacious Gabrielli; " your Majesty
may get your field-marshals to sing for you, then."
Catharine, who, however cruel and unscrupulous
when need be, was in the main good-natured,
laughed at the impertinence, and instead of sending Gabrielli to Siberia consented to her demands,
adding special gratuities to the nominal salary.
Two countrymen of the beautiful cantatrice, Paisiello and Cimarosa, were afterward treated with
equal honor and consideration by the imperial dilettante. Catharine's favor lasted unimpaired for
several years, and it only abated when Gabrielli's
lust for conquest and the honor of rivalry with a
sovereign tempted her to coquet with Prince Potemkin. An intimation from the court chamberlain that St. Petersburg was too hot for one of
her warm southern blood, and that Siberia or
some other place at her will would better suit her
temperament, sufficed when backed by an imperial endorsement.  La Gabrielli returned from
Russia, loaded with diamonds and wealth, for
Catharine did not dismiss her without substantial
proofs of her magnificence and generosity.
At this period Gabrielli was invited to England; and after considerable haggling with the



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

41

London manager, and compelling him to employ
her favorite of the hour, Signor Manzoletto, as
principal tenor, the negotiation was consummated.
Gabrielli still preserved all her excellence of voice
and charm of execution; but her rare beauty,
which had been as great a factor in her success
as artistic skill, was on the wane. The English
engagement had been made with some reluctance;
for the stern and uncompromising temper of the
island nation had been widely recognized with exaggerations in Continental Europe.   "I should
not be mistress of my own will," she said, "and
whenever I might have a fancy not to sing, the
people would insult, perhaps misuse me.    It is
better to remain unmolested, were it even in prison." She, however, changed her mind, and her
experiences in London were such as to make her
regret that she had not stood firm to her first resolution.
III.
AMONG the remarkable male singers of Gabrielli's time was Caffarelli, whom his friends indeed declared to be no less great than Farinelli.
Though never closely associated with La Cuochettina in her stage triumphs (a fact perhaps fortunate for the cantatrice), he must be regarded as
one of the representative artists of the period
when she was in the full-blown and insolent prime
of her beauty and reputation. Born in 1703, of



42

GREAT SINGERS.

humble Neapolitan parentage, he became a pupil
of Porpora at an early age. The great singingmaster is said to have taught him in a peculiar
fashion. For five years he permitted him to sing
nothing but scales and exercises. In the sixth
year Porpora instructed him in declamation, pronunciation, and articulation.  Caffarelli, at the
end of the sixth year, supposing he had just mastered the rudiments, began to murmur, when he
was amazed by Porpora's answer: " Young man,
you may now leave me; you are the greatest singer in the world, and you have nothing more to
learn from me." Hogarth discredits this story,
on the ground that " none but a plodding drudge
without a spark of genius could have submitted
to a process which would have been too much for
the patient endurance even of a Russian serf; or
if a single spark had existed at first, it must have
been extinguished by so barbarous a treatment."
Caffarelli did not rise to the height of his fame
rapidly, and, when he went to London to supply
the place of Farinelli in 1738, he entirely failed
to please the English public, who had gone wild
with enthusiasm over his predecessor. Farinelli's
retirement from the artistic world about this period removed from Caffarelli's way the only rival
who could have snatched from him the laurels he
soon acquired as the leading male singer of the
age. After Caffarelli's return from England, his
engagements in Turin, Genoa, Milan, and Flor


CATARINA GABRIELLI.

43

ence were a triumphal progress.     At Turin he
sang before the Prince and Princess of Sardinia,
the latter of whom had been a pupil of Farinelli,
as she was a Spanish princess. Caffarelli, on being told that the royal lady had a prejudice in
favor of her old master, said haughtily, " To-night
she shall hear two Farinellis in one," and exerted
his faculties so successfully as to produce acclamations of delight and astonishment. He always
seems to have had great jealousy of the fame of
Farinelli, and the latter entertained much curiosity about his successor in public esteem. Metastasio, the friend of the retired artist, wrote to him
in 1749 from Vienna about Caffarelli's reception:
" You will be curious to know how Caffarelli has
been received. The wonders related of him by
his adherents had excited expectations of something above humanity." After summing up the
judgments of the critics who were severe on Caffarelli's faults, that his voice was " false, screaming, and disobedient," that his singing was full of
"antique and stale flourishes," that "in his recitative he was an old nun," and that in all that he
sang there was "a whimsical tone of lamentation
sufficient to sour the gayest allegro," Metastasio
says that in his happy moments he could please
excessively, but the caprices of his voice and temper made these happy moments very uncertain.
Caffarelli's arrogant, vain, and turbulent nature seems to have been the principal cause-of his



44

GREAT SINGERS.

troubles.  The numerous anecdotes current of
him turned mainly on this characteristic, so different from the modesty and reticence of Farinelli. Metastasio, in a lively letter to the Princess
di Belmonte, describes an amusing fracas at the
Viennese Opera-House. The poet of the house,
Migliavacca, who was also director of rehearsals,
became engaged in altercation with the singer,
because the latter neglected attendance. He rehearsed to Caffarelli in bitter language the various
terms of reproach and contempt which his enemies throughout Europe had lavished on him.
" But the hero of the panegyric, cutting the
thread of his own praise, called out to his eulogist, ' Follow me if thou hast courage to a place
where there is none to assist thee,' and, moving
toward the door, beckoned him to come out. The
poet hesitated a moment, then said with a smile:
'Truly, such an antagonist makes me blush; but
come along, since it is a Christian act to chastise
a madman or a fool,' and advanced to take the
field." Suddenly the belligerents drew blades on
the very stage itself, and, while the bystanders
were expecting to see poetical or vocal blood besprinkle the harpsichords and double basses, the
Signora Tesi advanced toward the duelists. " Oh,
sovereign power of beauty! " writes Metastasio
with sly sarcasm; "the frantic Caffarelli, even
in the fiercest paroxysms of his wrath, captivated
and appeased by this unexpected tenderness, runs



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

45

with rapture to meet her, lays his sword at her
feet, begs pardon for his errors, and, generously
sacrificing to her his vengeance, seals, with a
thousand kisses on her hand, his protestations of
obedience, respect, and humility.   The nymph
signifies her forgiveness with a nod, the poet
sheathes his sword, the spectators begin to breathe
again, and the tumultuous assembly breaks up
amid sounds of laughter. In collecting the numbers of the wounded and slain, none was found
but the poor copyist, who, in trying to part the
combatants, had received a small contusion in the
clavicula of the foot from an involuntary kick of
the poet's Pegasus."
Once, while Caffarelli was singing at Naples,
he was told of the arrival of Gizzielo, a possible
rival, at Rome. Unable to check his anxiety, he
threw himself into a post-chaise and hastened to
Rome, arriving in time to hear his young rival
sing the aria cl'entrata.  Delighted with Gizzielo's singing, and giving vent to his emotion,
he cried in a loud voice: " Bravo, bravissimo,
Gizzielo!  E  Ccafarelli che te lo dice."  So saying, he rushed out and posted back to Naples,
arriving barely in time to dress for the opera.
By invitation of the Dauphin, he went to Paris
in 1750, and sang at several concerts, where he
pleased and astonished the court by his splendid
vocalism. Louis XV. sent him a snuff-box; but
Caffarelli, observing its plainness, said disdain


46

GREAT SINGERS.

fully, showing a drawerful of splendid boxes, that
the worst was finer than the French King's present. " If he had only sent me his portrait in it,"
said the vain artist. " That is only given to ambassadors and princes," was the reply of the King's
gentleman. " Well," was the reply, " all the ambassadors and princes in the world would not
make one Caffarelli." The King laughed heartily
at this, but the Dauphin sent for the singer and presented him with a passport, saying, " It is signed
by the King himself-for you a great honor;
but lose no time in using it, for it is only good
for ten days." Caffarelli left in high dudgeon,
saying he had not made his expenses in France.
Mr. Garrick, the great actor, heard Caffarelli
in Naples in 1764, when he was turned of sixty,
and thus writes to Dr. Burney: " Yesterday we
attended the ceremony of making a nun; she was
the daughter of a duke, and everything was conducted with great splendor and magnificence.
The consecration was performed with great solemnity, and I was very much affected; and, to
crown the whole, the principal part was sung by
the famous Caffarelli, who, though old, has pleased
me more than all the singers I ever heard. He
touched me, and it is the first time I have been
touched since I came to Italy." At this time
Caffarelli had accumulated a great fortune, purchased a dukedom, and built a splendid palace at
San Dorato, from which he derived his ducal title.



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

47

Over the gate he inscribed, with characteristic
modesty, this inscription: " Amp2hiozn Thebas, ego
domum." *    A  wit of the period added, "lile
cum, sine tu." f Caffarelli died in 1783, leaving
his title and wealth to his nephew, some of whose
descendants are still living in enjoyment of the
rank earned by the genius of the singer. By
some of the critics of his time Caffarelli was
judged to be the superior of Farinelli, though
the suffrages were generally on the other side.
He excelled in slow and pathetic airs as well as
in the bravura style; and was unrivaled in the
beauty of his voice, and in the perfection of his
shake and his chromatic scales, which latter embellishment in quick movements he was the first
to introduce.
IV.
WHEN Gabrielli was on her way to England in
1765, she sang for a few nights in Venice with the
celebrated Pacchierotti, a male soprano singer
who took the place of Caffarelli, even as the latter filled that vacated by Farinelli. Gabrielli was
inspired by the association to do her utmost, and
when she sang her first aria di bravura, Pacchierotti gave himself up for lost. The astonishing
swiftness, grace, and flexibility of her execution
seemed to him beyond comparison; and, tearing
* "Amphion built Thebes, I a palace."
" ( He with good reason,, you. without."
5



48

GREAT SINGERS.

his hair in his impetuous Italian way, he cried in
despair, " Povero me, povero me! Vuesto e un
portento /"  ("Unfortunate man that I am, here
indeed is a prodigy! ") It was some time before
he could be persuaded to sing; but,, when he did,
he excited as much admiration in Gabrielli's breast
as that fair cantatrice had done in his own. Pacchierotti is the third in the great triad of the male
soprano singers of the eighteenth century, and
the luster of his reputation does not shine dimly
as compared with the other two. He commenced
his musical career at Palermo in 1770, at the age
of twenty, and when he went to England in 1778
expectations were raised to the highest pitch by
the accounts given of him by Brydone in his
" Tour through Sicily and Malta."  His first English season was very successful, and he returned
again in 1780, to remain for four years and become one of the greatest favorites the London
public had ever known, his last appearance being
at the great Handel commemoration. The details
of Pacchierotti's life are rather scanty, for he was
singularly modest and retiring, and shrank from
rather than courted public notice. We know
more of him from his various critics as an artist
than as a man.
"Pacchierotti's voice," says Lord Mount Edgcumbe, who contributed so richly to the literature
of music, " was an extensive soprano, full and sweet
in the highest.degree; his powers of execution



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

49

were great, but he had far too good taste and good
sense to make a display of them where it would
have been misapplied, confining it to one bravura song in each opera, conscious that the chief
delight of singing and his own supreme excellence
lay in touching expression and exquisite pathos.
Yet he was so thorough a musician that nothing
came amiss to him; every style was to him equally easy, and he could sing at first sight all songs
of the most opposite characters, not merely with
the facility and correctness which a complete
knowledge of music must give, but entering at
once into the views of the composer and giving
them all the spirit and expression he had designed.
Such was his genius in his embellishments and cadences that their variety was inexhaustible....
As an actor, with many disadvantages of personfor he was tall and awkward in his figure, and his
features were plain-he was nevertheless forcible
and impressive; for he felt warmly, had excellent
judgment, and was an enthusiast in his profession.
His recitative was inimitably fine, so that even
those who did not understand the language could
not fail to comprehend from his countenance,
voice, and action every sentiment he expressed."
An anecdote illustrating Pacchierotti's pathos
is given by the best-informed musical authorities.
When Metastasio's " Artaserse " was given at
Rome with the music of Bertoni, Pacchierotti
performed the part of Arbaces. In one place a



50

GREAT SINGERS.

touching song is followed by a short instrumental
symphony. When Pacchierotti had finished the
air, he turned to the orchestra, which remained
silent, saying, "What are you about?"      The
leader, awakened from   a trance, answered with
much simplicity in a sobbing voice, " We are all
crying." Not one of the band had thought of
the symphony, but sat with eyes full of tears, gazing at the great singer.
V.
GABRIELLI'S career, which will now be resumed,
had been full of romantic adventures, cafaires
d'amour, and curious episodes, and her vanity
looked forward to the continuance in England of
similar social excitements. She had accepted the
London engagement with some scruple and hesitation, but her anticipation of brilliant conquests
among the jeunesse doree of Britain overcame her
fear that she would find audiences less tolerant
than those to which she had been accustomed in
her imperious course through Europe. But the
beautiful Gabrielli was then a little on the wane
both in personal loveliness and charm of voice;
and, though her fame as a coquette and an artist
had preceded her, she met with an indifference
that was almost languor. The young Englishmen
of the period, though quick to draw blade as any
gallants in Europe, did not feel inspired to fight
for her smiles, as had been the case with their



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

51

compeers in the Continental cities, which rang with
the scandals, controversies, and duels engendered
by her numerous conquests. This sort of social
stimulus had become necessary from long use as
an ally of professional effort; and, lacking it,
Gabrielli became insufferably indolent and careless. She would not take the least trouble to
please fastidious London audiences, then as now
the most exacting in Europe. She chose to remain
sick on occasions which should have drawn forth
her finest efforts, and frequently sent her sister
Francesca to fill her great parts. One night her
manager, mistrusting her excuses of illness, proceeded to her apartments, and found them ablaze
with light and filled with a large company of gay
and riotous revelers. Of course this condition of
affairs could not long be endured. Stung by the
slight appreciation of her talents in England, and
not choosing to endure the want of patience
which made the public grumble when she chose
to sing badly or not at all, she quitted England
after a very brief stay. Lord Mount Edgeumbe
saw her in the opera of " Didone," and avows
bluntly that he could see nothing more of her acting than that she took the greatest possible care
of her enormous boop when she sidled out of the
flames of Carthage. Dr. Burney, on the other
hand, is a more chivalrous critic, or else he was
unduly impressed with the lady's charms; for she
appeared to him "the most intelligent and best


52

GREAT SINGERS.

bred virtuoso with whom he had ever conversed,
not only on the subject of music, but on every
subject concerning which a well-educated female,
who had seen the world, might be expected to
have information." Furthermore, he extols the
precision and accuracy of her execution and intonation, and the thrilling quality of her voice.
Brydone, who appears to have been fascinated
with this siren, has an amusing apology for her
carelessness of her duties in England, which he
insists was not caprice, but inability to sing. He
says: "And this I can readily believe, for that
wonderful flexibility of voice, that runs with such
rapidity and neatness through the most minute
divisions, and produces almost instantaneously so
great a variety of modulation, must surely depend
on the very nicest tones of the fibers; and if these
are in the smallest degree relaxed, or their elasticity diminished, how is it possible that their
contractions and expansions can so readily obey
the will as to produce these effects?  The opening of the glottis which forms the voice is so extremely small, and in every variety of tone its
diameter must suffer a sensible change; for the
same diameter must ever produce the same tone.
So wonderfully minute are its contractions and
dilatations, that Dr. Kiel, I think, computed that
in some voices its opening, not more than the
tenth of an inch, is divided into upward of twelve
hundred parts, the different sound of every one of



CATARINA GABRIELLI.

53

which is perceptible to the exact ear. Now, what
a nice tension of fibers must this require! I
should imagine even the most minute change in
the air causes a sensible difference, and that in
our foggy climate fibers would be in danger of
losing this wonderful sensibility, or, at least, that
they would very often be put out of tune. It is
not the same case with an ordinary voice, where
the variety of divisions run through and the volubility with which they are executed bear no proportion to that of a Gabrielli."
Gabrielli sang in various cities of Italy for
several years more, still retaining her hold on the
hearts of her countrymen. In 1780 she finally retired from the stage and began to live a regular
and orderly life, though still extravagant and
lavish in her indulgence both of freaks of luxury
and generosity. During her residence at Rome
the noblesse of that city held her in high esteem,
and her concerts gathered the most distinguished
and wealthy people. Her prodigality had considerably reduced her income, and when she retired from her profession it amounted to little
more than twenty thousand francs. The state in
which Gabrielli had lived suited a princess of the
blood rather than an operatic singer. Her traveling retinue included a little army of servants and
couriers, and, both at home and at the theatre,
she exacted the respect which was rather the due
of some royal personage. A Florentine nobleman



54

GREAT SINGERS.

paid her a visit one day, and tore one of his ruffles
by catching in some part of her dress. Gabrielli
the next day, to make amends, sent him six bottles
of Spanish wine, with the costliest rolls of Flanders
lace stuffed into the mouths of the bottles instead
of corks. But, if she was extravagant and luxurious, she was also generous; and, in spite of the
cruel caprices which had marked-her life, she always gave tokens of a naturally kind heart. She
gave largely to charity, and provided liberally for
her parents, as also for her brother's education.
Of this brother, who appeared at the Teatro Argentina in Rome as a tenor, but who sang as
wretchedly as his sister did exquisitely, an amusing anecdote is narrated. The audience began
to hoot and hiss, and yells of "Get out, you
raven! " sounded through the house. With great
sang-froid the unlucky singer said: "You fancy
you are mortifying me by booting me; you are
grossly deceived; on the contrary, I applaud
your judgment, for I solemnly declare that I never
appear on any stage without receiving the same
treatment, and sometimes worse."
Gabrielli's closing years were spent at Bologna,
where she won the esteem and admiration of all
by her charities and steadiness of life, a notable
contrast to the license and extravagance of her
earlier career. She died in 1796, at the age of
sixty-six.



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

55

SOPHIE ARNOULD.
The French Stage as seen by Rousseau.-Intellectual Ferment of
the Period.-Sophie Arnould, the Queen of the most Brilliant
of Paris Salons.-Her Early Life and Connection with Comte
de Lauraguais.-Her Reputation as the Wittiest Woman of
the Age.-Art Association with the Great German Composer,
Gluck.-The Rivalries and Dissensions of the Period.- Sophie's Rivals and Contemporaries, Madame St. Huberty, the
Vestrises Father and Son, Madelaine Guimard.-Opera during the Revolution.-The Closing Days of Sophie Arnould's
Life.-Lord Mount Edgcumbe's Opinion of her as an Artist.
I.
ROUSSEA-, a man of decidedly musical organization, and who wrote so brilliantly on the subject of the art he loved (but who cared more for
music than he did for truth and honor, as he
showed by stealing the music of two operas,
"Pygmalion" and " Le Devin du Village," and
passing it off for his own), has given us some
very racy descriptions of French opera in the latter part of the eighteenth century in his " Dictionnaire Musicale," in his " Lettre sur la Musique
Frangaise," and, above all, in the " Nouvelle Heloise."  In the mouth of Saint Preux, the hero
of the latter novel, he puts some very animated
sketches:
" The opera at Paris passes for the most pompous, the most voluptuous, the most admirable
spectacle that human art has ever invented. It
is, say its admirers, the most superb monument of



56

GREAT SINGERS.

the magnificence of Louis XIV. Here you may
dispute about anything except music and the opera; on these topics alone it is dangerous not to
dissemble. French music, too, is defended by a
very vigorous inquisition, and the first thing indicated is a warning to strangers who visit this
country that all foreigners admit there is nothing
so fine as the grand opera at Paris. The fact is,
discreet people hold their tongues and laugh in
their sleeves. It must, however, be conceded that
not only all the marvels of nature, but many other
marvels much greater, which no one has ever seen,
are represented at great cost at this theatre; and
certainly Pope must have alluded to it when he
describes a stage on which were seen gods, hobgoblins, monsters, kings, shepherds, fairies, fury,
joy, fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball.*... Having
told you what others say of this brilliant spectacle, I will now tell you what I have seen myself.
Imagine an inclosure fifteen feet broad and long
in proportion; this inclosure is the theatre. On
its two sides are placed at intervals screens, on
which are grossly painted the objects which the
scene is about to represent. At the back of the
inclosure hangs a great curtain painted in like
manner, and nearly always pierced and torn, that
it may represent at a little distance gulfs on the
earth or holes in the sky. Every one who passes
* Addison gives some such description of the French opera
in No. 29 of the " Spectator."



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

57

behind this stage or touches the curtain produces
a sort of earthquake, which has a double effect.
The sky is made from certain bluish rags suspended from poles or from cords, as linen may be
seen hung out to dry in any washerwoman's yard.
The sun (for it is seen here sometimes) is a lighted torch in a lantern. The cars of the gods and
goddesses are composed of four rafters, squared
and hung on a thick rope in the form of a swing
or seesaw; between the rafters is a cross-plank
on which the god sits down, and in front hangs
a piece of coarse cloth well dirtied, which acts
the part of clouds for the magnificent car. One
may see toward the bottom of the machine two
or three stinking candles, badly snuffed, which,
while the great personage dementedly presents
himself, swinging in his seesaw, fumigate him
with an incense worthy of his dignity.      The
agitated sea is composed of long lanterns of cloth
and blue pasteboard, strung on parallel spits
which are turned by little blackguard boys.,The
thunder is a heavy cart, rolled over an arch, and
is not the least agreeable instrument one hears.
The flashes of lightning are made of pinches of
rosin thrown on a flame, and the thunder is a
cracker at the end of a fusee. The theatre is furnished, moreover, with little square trap-doors,
thbrough which the demons issue from their cave.
When they have to rise into the air, little devils
of stuffed brown cloth are substituted, or perhaps



58

GREAT SINGERS.

live chimney-sweeps, who swing suspended and
smothered in rags. The accidents which happen
are sometimes tragical, sometimes farcical. When
the ropes break, then infernal spirits and immortal deities fall together, laming and sometimes
killing each other. Add to all this the monsters
which render some scenes very pathetic, such as
dragons, lizards, tortoises, and large toads, which
promenade the theatre with a menacing air, and
display at the opera all the temptations of St.
Anthony. Each of these figures is animated by
a lout of a Savoyard, who has not even intelligence enough to play the beast." Saint Preux is
also made to say of the singers    " One sees actresses nearly in convulsions, tearing yelps and
howls violently out of their lungs, closed hands
pressed on their breasts, heads thrown back, faces
inflamed, veins swollen, and stomach panting. I
know not which of the two, eye or ear, is more
agreeably affected by this display.... For my
part, I am certain that people applaud the outcries
of an actress at the opera as they would the feats
of a tumbler or rope-dancer at a fair.... Imagine this style of singing employed to express
the delicate gallantry and tenderness of Quinault.
Imagine the Muses, the Graces, the Loves, Venus
herself, expressing themselves this way, and judge
the effect. As for devils, it might pass, for this
music has something infernal in it, and is not ill
adapted to such beings."



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

59

From this and similar accounts it will be seen
that opera in France during the latter part of the
eighteenth century had, notwithstanding Jean
Jacques's garrulous sarcasms, advanced a considerable way toward that artificial perfection which
characterizes it now. Music was a topic of discussion, which absorbed the interest of the polite
world far more than the mutterings in the political horizon, which portended so fierce a convulsion of the social regime.    Wits, philosophers,
courtiers, and fine ladies joined in the acrimonious controversy, first between the adherents of
Lulli and Rameau, then between those of Gluck
and Piccini. The young gallants of the day were
wont to occupy part of the stage itself and criticise the performance of the opera; and often they
adjourned from the theatre to the dueling-ground
to settle a difficulty too hard for their wits to
unravel. The intense interest appertaining to all
things connected with music and the theatre noticeable in the French of to-day, was tenfold as
eager a century ago.. Passionate curiosity, even
extending to enthusiasm, with which that.wornout and utterly corrupt society, by some subtile
contradiction, threw itself into all questions concerning philosophy, science, literature, and art,
found its most characteristic expression in its relation to the music of the stage.
It was at this strange and picturesque period,
when everything in politics, society, literature,



60

GREAT SINGERS.

and art was fermenting for the terrible Hecate's
brew which the French world was soon to drink
to the dregs, that there appeared on the stage
one of the most remarkable figures in its history, a woman of great beauty and brilliancy,
as well as an artist of unique genius-Sophie
Arnould. Her name is lustrous in French memoirs for the splendor of her wit and conversational talent; and Arshne Houssaye has thought
it worthy to preserve her bon-mots in a volume
of table-talk, called "Arnouldiana," which will
compare with anything of its kind in the French
language. For a dozen years prior to the Revolution Sophie Arnould was a queen of society as
well as of art; and in her elegant salon, which
was a museum of art curios and bric-A-brac, she
held a brilliant court, where men of the highest
distinction, both native and foreign, were proud
to pay their homage at the shrine of beauty and
genius. There might be seen D'Alembert, the
learned and scholarly, rough and independent in
manner, who deserted the drawing-rooms of the
great for saloons where he could move at his ease.
There, also, Diderot would often delight his circle of admirers by the fluency and richness of his
conversation, his friends extolling his disinterestedness and honesty, his enemies whispering about
his cunning and selfishness. The novelist Duclos,
with his keen power of penetrating human character, would move leisurely through the throng,



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

61

picking up material for his romances; and Mably
would talk politics and drop ill-natured remarks.
The learned metaphysician Helvetius, too, was
often there, seeking for compliments, his appetite
for applause being voracious; so insatiable, indeed, that he even danced one night at the opera.
It was said that he was led to study mathematics
by seeing a circle of beautiful ladies surrounding
the ugly geometrician Maupertuis in the gardens
of the Tuileries. Dorat, who wasted his time in
writing bad tragedies, and his property in publishing them; the gay, good-hearted Marmontel;
Bernard-called by Voltaire le gentil-who wrote
the libretto of " Castor et Pollux," esteemed for
years a masterpiece of lyric poetry; Rameau, the
popular composer, in whose pieces Sophie always
appeared; and Francoeur, the leader of the orchestra, were also among her guests. J. J. Rousseau
was the great lion, courted and petted by all.
When Benjamin Franklin arrived in Paris, where
he was received with unbounded hospitality by
the most distinguished of French society, he confessed that nowhere did he find such pleasure,
such wit, such brilliancy, as in the sclon of Mlle.
Arnould. M. Andrc de Murville was one of the
more noteworthy men of wit who attended her
soir&es, and he became so madly in love with her
that he offered her his hand; but she cared very
little about him. One day he told her that if he
were not in the Academie within thirty years, he



62

GREAT SINGERS.

would blow out his brains. She looked steadily
at him, and then, smiling sarcastically, said, "I
thought you had done that long ago." Poets
sang her praises; painters eagerly desired to transfer her exquisite lineaments to canvas. All this
flattery intoxicated her. She wished to be classed
with Ninon, Lais, and Aspasia, and was proud to
be the subject of the verses of Dorat, Bernard,
Rulhiere, Marmontel, and Favart. Sophie's wit
never hesitated to break a lance even on those she
liked. "What are you thinking of?" she said to
Bernard, in one of his abstracted moods. "I was
talking to myself," he replied. " Be careful," she
said archly; "you gossip with a flatterer." To
a physician, whom she met with a gun under his
arm, she laughed aloud, "Ah, doctor, you are
afraid of your professional resources failing." Her
racy repartees were in every mouth from Paris to
Versailles, and she was in all respects a brilliant
personage among the intellectual lights of the
age.
In the Rue de Bethisy, Paris, stood a house,
the Hotel de Chatillon, from the window of one
of whose rooms assassins flung the gory head of
the great Admiral de Coligni down to the Duke
de Guise on the night of Saint Bartholomew,
1572. In that same room was born, February 14,
1744, Sophie Arnould, the daughter of the proprietor, who had transformed the historic dwelling into a hostelry. She grew up a bright, lively,



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

63

and beautiful child, and was conscious from an
early age of the value of her talents. Anne, as
she was then called (for the change to Sophie was
made afterward), would say with exultation: " We
shall be as rich as princes. A  good fairy has
given me a talisman to transform everything into
gold and diamonds at the sound of my voice."
Accident brought her talent to light. It was
then the fashion for ladies, after confessing their
sins in Passion Week, to retire for some days to a
religious house, there to expiate by fasting the
faults and misdemeanors committed during the
gayeties of the Carnival. It chanced that when
Anne was about twelve years old the Princess of
Modena retired to the convent of Val-de-Grace,
and in attending vespers heard one voice which,
for power and purity, she thought had never
been surpassed. Fine voices were at a premium
then in France, and the Princess at once decided
that she had discovered a treasure. She inquired
who was the owner of this exquisite organ, and
was informed that it was little Anne Arnoul.
The Princess sent for the child, who came readily,
and was not in the least abashed by the presence
of the great lady, but sang like a nightingale
and chattered like a magpie. The wit and beauty of the girl charmed the Princess, and she threw
a costly necklace about her throat. " Come, my
lovely child," said she; " you sing like an angel,
and you have more wit than an angel. Your for


64

GREAT SINGERS.

tune is made." As a result of the praises so
loudly chanted by the Princess of Modena, the
child was sent for to sing in the King's Chapel,
and, in spite of the aversion of Anne's pious mother, who was afraid with good reason of the influences of the dissipated court, she was placed thus
in contact with power and royalty. The beautiful Pompadour heard her charming voice, and remarked, with that effusion of sentiment which
veneered her cruel selfishness, "Ah! with such a
talent, she might become a princess." This opinion of the imperious and all - powerful favorite
decided the girl's fate; for it was equivalent to a
mandate for her debut. The precocious child knew
the danger of the path opened for her. To the
remonstrances of her mother she said with a shrug
of her pretty shoulders: " To go to the opera is to
go to the devil. But what matters it? It is my
destiny."   Poor Mme. Arnould scolded, shuddered, and prayed, and ended it, as she thought,
by shutting the girl up in a convent. But Louis
XV. got wind of this threatened checkmate, and
a royal mandate took her out of the convent
walls which had threatened to immure her for
life. Anne was placed with Clairon, the great
tragedienne, to learn acting, and with Mille. Fel
to learn singing. As, a consequence, while she
had some rivals in the beauty of her voice, her
acting surpassed anything on the operatic stage
of that era.



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

65

II.
WHEN Anne Arnould made her first appearance, she assumed the name of Sophie on account
of the softer sound of its syllables. Her debut,
September 15, 1757, was one of most brilliant
success, and in a night Paris was at her feet.
Her genius, her beauty, her voice, her magnificent eyes, her incomparable grace and fascinating
witchery of manner, were the talk of the city;
and the opera was besieged every night she sang.
Fr6ron, in speaking of the waiting crowds, said,
"I doubt if they would take such trouble to get
into paradise." The young and lovely debutante
accepted the homage of the time, which then as
now expressed itself in bouquets, letters, and jewels, without number, with as much nonchalance
as if she had been a stage goddess of twenty
years' standing.
Hosts of admirers fluttered around this new
and brilliant light. Mme. Arnould fretted and
scolded, and watched her precious charge as well
as she could; for when the opera received a singer, neither father nor mother could longer claim
her. One of the besieging rousz said that Sophie
walked on roses. "Yes," was the mother's keen
retort, " but see to it that you do not plant thorns
amid the roses." Sophie's fascinations were the
theme of universal talk among the gay and licentious idlers of the court, and heavy bets were made



66

GREAT SINGERS.

as to who should be the victor in his suit. Among
the most distinguished of the court ruffiers of the
period was the Comte de Lauraguais, noted for
his personal beauty, wit, and daring, and for having written some very bad plays, which were
instantly damned by the audience. He had run
through a great fortune, and the good-humored
gayety with which he won money from his friends
was only equaled by the nonchalance with which
he had squandered his own. He was a member
of the Academy of Sciences, and enjoyed lounging in fashionable saloons and behind the scenes
at the opera. Lauraguais had the temerity to
attempt to carry off the young beauty, but, the
enterprise failing, he had recourse to another expedient. One evening, supping with some friends,
the conversation turned naturally on the star which
had just risen, and there was much jesting over
the maternal anxiety of Arnould mqre. Lauraguais, laughing, instantly offered to lay an immense wager that within fifteen days Mme. Arnould would no longer attend Sophie to the opera.
The bet was taken, and the next day a handsome but modest-looking young man, professing to be from the country, applied at the Hll
tel de Chhtillon for lodgings. The fascinating
tongue of young Duval (for he represented that
he was a poet of that name, who hoped to get a
play taken by the managers) soon beguiled both
mother and daughter, and he began to make love



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

67

to Sophie under the very maternal eyes. The romantic girl listened with delight to the protestations and vows of the young provincial poet,
though she had disdained the flatteries of the
troops of court gallants who besieged the operahouse stage when she sang. The finale of this
pretty pastoral was a moonlight flitting one night.
The couple eloped, and the Comte de Lauraguais
won his wager that Mme. Arnould would not
longer accompany her daughter to the opera,
and with the wager the most beautiful and fascinating woman of the time.
Sophie, finding herself freed from all conventional shackles, gave full play to her tastes, both
for luxury and intellectual society. Her house,
the Hotel Rambouillet, was transformed into a
palace, and both at home and in the green-room
of the opera she was surrounded by a throng of
noblemen, diplomats, soldiers, poets, artists-in a
word, all the most brilliant men of Paris, who
crowded her receptions and besieged her footsteps.
The attentions paid the brilliant Sophie caused
terrible fits of jealousy on the part of Lauraguais,
and their life for several years, though there appears to have been sincere attachment on both
sides, was embittered by quarrels and recriminations. Sophie seems to have been faithful to her
relation with Lauraguais, though she never took
pains to deprecate his anger or avert his suspicions.
Discovering that he was intriguing with an oper


68

GREAT SINGERS

atic fair one, she contrived that Lauraguais should
come on her tete-d-tete with a Knight of Malta.
To his reproaches she answered, "This gentleman is only fulfilling his vows as Knight of Malta
in waging war upon an infidel" (infidle). At
last she tired of leading such a fretful existence,
and took the occasion of the Count's absence to
break the bond. She filled her carriage with all
of his valuable gifts to herself-jewelry, laces, and
two children-and sent them to his hotel. The
message was received by the Countess, who gladly accepted the charge of the little ones, but returned the carriage and its other contents. On
Lauraguais's return he was thrown into the deepest miseiy by Sophie's resolve; but, although she
was touched by his pleading and reproaches, she
remained inflexible. She accepted, however, a
pension of two thousand crowns which his generosity settled on her. We are told that the sentimental Countess joined with her husband in
urging Sophie, who at first refused to receive Lauraguais's bounty, to yield, saying that her admiration of the lovely singer made her excuse his fault
in being unfaithful to herself, and that the children should be always treated as her own. Such
a scene as this would be impossible out of the
France of the eighteenth century.
The number of Sophie Arnould's bon-mots is
almost legion, and her good nature could rarely
resist the temptation of uttering a brilliant epi


SOPHIE ARNOULD.

69

gram or a pungent repartee. Some one showed
her a snuff-box, on which were portraits of Sully
and the Duke de Choiseul. She said with a wicked
smile, " Debit and credit." A Capuchin monk was
reported to have been eaten by wolves. "Poor
beasts! hunger must be a dreadful thing," ejaculated she. A beautiful but silly woman complained
to her of the persistency of her lovers. "You
have only to open your mouth and speak, to get
rid of their importunities," was the pungent answer. She effectually silenced a coxcomb, who
aimed to annoy her by saying, "Oh! wit runs in
the street nowadays," by the retort, " Too fast
for fools to catch it, however." Of Madeleine
Guimard, the fascinating dancer, who was exceedingly thin, Sophie said one night, after she
had seen her dance a pas de trois in which she
represented a nymph being contended for by two
satyrs, "It made her think of two dogs fighting
for a bone." * One day Voltaire said to her, "Ah!
mademoiselle, I am eighty-four years old, and I
have committed eighty-four follies" (sottises).
"A mere trifle," responded Sophie; "I am not
yet forty, and I have committed more than a
thousand."
For a time Mlle. Arnould suffered under a loss
of court favor, owing to her having made Mme. Du
Barry the butt of her pointed sarcasms. A lettre
* This mot the Paris wits have revived at the expense of
Mlle. Sara Bernhardt.



70

GREAT SINGERS.

de cachet would have been the fate of another, but
Sophie was too much of a popular idol to be so
summarily treated. She, however, retired for a
time from the theatre with a pension of two thousand francs, having already accumulated a splendid fortune. Instantly that it was known she
was under a cloud, there were plenty to urge that
she never had any voice, and that her only good
points were beauty and fine acting. Abb6 Galiani, a court parasite, remarked one night, "It's
the finest asthma I ever heard."
In 1774 the great composer Gluck, whose
genius was destined to have such a profound influence on French music, came to Paris with his
" Iphigenie en Aulide," by invitation of the Dauphiness Marie Antoinette, who had formerly been
his musical pupil. The stiff and stilted works of
Sully and Rameau had thus far ruled the French
stage without any competition, except from the
Italian operettas performed by the company of
Les Bouffons, and the new school of French operatic comedy developed into form by the lively
genius of Gr6try.   When Gluck's magnificent
opera, constructed on new art principles, was
given to the Paris public, April 19, 1774, it created a deep excitement, and divided critics and
connoisseurs into opposing and embittered camps,
in which the most distinguished wits, poets, and
philosophers ranged themselves, and pelted each
other with lampoons, pamphlets, and epigrams,



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

71

which often left wounds that had to be healed
afterward by an application of cold steel. In
this contest Sophie Arnould, who had speedily
emerged from her retirement, took an active part,
for Gluck had selected her to act the part of his
heroines. The dramatic intensity and breadth of
the German composer's conceptions admirably
suited Sophie, whose genius for acting was more
marked than her skill in singing. The success of
Gluck's * Iphigenie " gave the finishing stroke to
the antiquated operas of Rameau, in which the
singer had made her reputation, and offered her
a nobler vehicle for art-expression. On her association with Gluck's music Sophie Arnould's fame
in the history of art now chiefly rests.
Gluck, like all others, yielded to the magic
charm of the beautiful and witty singer, and went
so far as to permit rehearsals to be held at her
own house. On one occasion the Prince de Hennin, one of the haughtiest of the grand seigneurs
of the period, intruded himself, and, finding himself unnoticed, interrupted the rehearsal with the
remark, "I believe it is the custom in France to
rise when any one enters the room, especially if it
be a person of some consideration."  Gluck's eyes
flashed with rage, as he sprang threateningly to
his feet. "The custom in Germany, sir, is to rise
only for those whom we esteem!" he said; then
turning to Sophie, who had been stopped in the
middle of an air, "I perceive, madame, that you
7



GREAT SINGERS.

are not mistress in your own house. I leave you,
and shall never set foot here again." Sophie is
credited with having commented on this scene
with the remark that it was the only case where
she had ever witnessed a personal illustration of
IEsop's fable of the lion put to flight by an ass.*
It is pleasant to know that the Prince de Hennin
was obliged to make a humble apology to Gluck,
by order of Marie Antoinette.
Sophie Arnould appeared with no less success
in Gluck's operas of " Orph6e " and " Alceste "
than in the first, and rose again to the topmost
wave of court favor. When "Orph6e " was at
rehearsal at the opera-house, it became the fashion of the great court dignitaries and the young
chevaliers of the period to attend. Gluck instantly, when he entered the theatre, threw off his
coat and wig, and conducted in shirt-sleeves and
cotton nightcap. When the rehearsal was over,
prince and marquis contended as to who should
act the part of valet de chambre. The composer
at this time was the subject of almost idolatrous
admiration, for it was at a later period that the
old quarrels were resumed again with even more
acrid personalities, and Piccini was imported from
Italy by the Du Barry faction to be pitted against
* An English wit some years afterward perpetrated the
same witticism on the occasion of Edmund Burke's leaving the
House of Commons in a rage, because he was interrupted in
one of his great speeches by a thick-witted country member.



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

73

the German. Gluck returned from Germany,
whither he had gone on a visit, to find the opposition cabal in full force, and the merits of the
Italian composer lauded to the skies by the fickle
public of Paris. But the former's greatest opera,
" Iphigenie en Tauride," was produced, and gave
a fatal blow to Piccini's ascendancy, though his
own opera on the same subject was afterward
given with great care. On the latter occasion
Mile. Laguerre, the principal singer, appeared on
the stage intoxicated, and was unable to get
through the music successfully.   "This is not
'Iphigenia in Tauris,"' said witty Sophie Arnould, "but Iphigenia in Champagne." Through
some intrigue Gluck was persuaded to substitute
Mile. Levasseur for Mile. Arnould in the interpretation of his last great operas; so Sophie, enraged and disheartened, but to the gratification
of the myriads of people whom she had offended
by her cutting witticisms, which had been showered alike on friends and enemies, retired to private life, and thenceforward rarely appeared on
the stage.
III.
INTEREST will be felt in some of Sophie Arnould's more distinguished art contemporaries.
Among these, the highest place must be given to
Mme. Antoinette C6cile Saint Huberty, ne Clavel.
Born in Germany of French descent, she made her



74

GREAT SINGERS.

first appearance in Paris in a small part in Gluck's
"Armide." Small, thin, and unprepossessing in
person, her power of expression and artistic vocalism won more and more on the public, till the retirement of Sophie Arnould and Mlle. Levasseur,
and the death of Laguerre, left her in undisputed
possession of the stage. When Piccini's " Didon,"
his greatest opera,* was produced, she sang the
part of the Queen of Carthage. Marmontel, the
poet of the opera, had already said at rehearsal,
" She expressed it so well that I imagined myself
at the theatre," and Piccini congratulated her on
having been largely instrumental in its success.
As Didon she made one of her greatest successes.
" Never," says Grimm, "has there been united
acting more captivating, a sensibility more per* " Didon," differing widely from the other operas of Piccini, was modeled after the new operatic principles of Gluck,
and was a magnificent homage on the part of his old rival to
the genius of the German. Indeed, although the adherents of
the two musicians waged so fierce a conflict, they themselves
were full of respect and admiration for each other. Gluck
always warmly expressed his appreciation of Piccini's " felicitous and charming melodies, the clearness of his style, the
elegance and truth of his expression." What Piccini's opinion
of Gluck was is best shown in his proposition after Gluck's
death to raise a subscription, not for the erection of a statue,
but for the establishment of an annual concert to take place on
the anniversary of Gluck's death, to consist entirely of his compositions-" in order to transmit to posterity the spirit and
character of his magnificent works, that they may serve as a
model to future artists of the true style of dramatic music."



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

75

fect, singing more exquisite, happier by-play, and
more noble abandon."    She was crowned on the
stage-an honor hitherto unknown, and since so
much abused. The secret of her marvelous gift
lay in her extreme sensibility. Others might sing
an air better, but no one could give to either airs
or recitatives accentuation more pure or more impassioned, action more dramatic, and by-play
more eloquent. Some one complimenting her on
the vivid truth with which she embodied her part,
" I really experience it," she said; "in a deathscene I actually feel as if I were dead."
It has been said that Talma was the first to
discard the absurd costumes of the theatre, but
this credit really belongs to Mme. Saint Huberty.
She studied the Greek and Roman statues, and
wore robes in keeping with the antique characters,
especially suppressing hoops and powder. This
singer remained queen of the French stage until
1790, when she retired. During the time of her
art reign she appeared in many of the principal
operas of Piccini, Salieri, Sacchini, and Gretry,
showing but little less talent for comedy than for
tragedy. She retired from public life to become
the wife of the Count d'Entraignes. Her tragic
fate many years afterward is one of the celebrated
political assassinations of the age. Count d'Entraignes at this time was residing at Barnes, England, having recently left the diplomatic service
of Russia, in which he had shown himself one of



76

GREAT SINGERS.

the most dangerous enemies of the Napoleonic
government in France. The Count's Piedmontese
valet had been bribed by a spy of Fouch6, the
French Minister of Police, to purloin certain papers.  The valet was discovered by his master,
and instantly stabbed him, and, as the Countess
entered the room a moment afterward, he also
pierced her heart with the stiletto reeking with
her husband's blood, finishing the shocking tragedy by blowing out his own brains. Thus died,
in 1812, one who had been among the most brilliant ornaments of the French stage.
No record of Sophie Arnould's artistic associates is complete without some allusion to the
celebrated dancers Gaitan Vestris * and Auguste,
his son. Gaitan was accustomed to say that there
were three great men in Europe-Voltaire, Frederick the Great, and himself. In his old age he
preserved all his skill, and M. Castel Blaze, who
saw him at the Acahmie fifty years after his
debut in 1748, declares that he still danced with
inimitable grace. It is of Gaitan that the story
is told in connection with Gluck, when the opera
of "Orph6e" was put in rehearsal. The dancer
wished for a ballet in the opera.
"Write me the music of a chacone, Monsieur
Gluck," said the god of dancing.
* Mme. Vestris, the last of the family, and the first wife
of the English comedian Charles Mathews, was the granddaughter of Gaitan.



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

77

"A chacone!" ejaculated the astonished composer; "do you think the Greeks, whose manners
we are endeavoring to depict, knew what a chacone was? "
"Did they not? " said Vestris, amazed at the
information; then, in a tone of compassion, " How
much they are to be pitied!"
Ga6tan retired from the stage at the successful debut of Auguste, but appeared again from
time to time to show his invulnerability to time.
On the occasion of his son's first appearance, the
veteran, in full court dress, sword, and ruffles, and
hat in hand, stepped to the front by the side of
the dcbutante. After a short address to the public on the importance of the chareographic art
and his hopes of his son, he turned to Auguste
and said: "Now, my son, exhibit your talent.
Your father is looking at you." He was accustomed to say: " Auguste is a better dancer than I
am; he had Gaitan Vestris for a father, an advantage which nature refused me."        "If," said
GaRtan, on another occasion, " le dieu de la danse "
(a title which he had given himself) "touches the
ground from time to time, he does so in order not
to humiliate his comrades." t The son inherited
f This boast of Gaitan Vestris seems to have inspired the
lines which Moore afterward addressed to a celebrated danseuse:
".... You'd swear,
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of light, that her home is the air,
And she only par complaisance touches the ground."



78

GREAT SINGERS

the paternal arrogance. To the director of the
opera, De Vismes, who, enraged at some want of
respect, said to him, " Do you know who I am? "
he drawled, " Yes! you are the farmer of my
talent."  On one occasion Auguste refused to
obey the royal mandate, and Gaatan said to him
with some reproof in his tones: "What! the
Queen of France does her duty by requesting you
to dance before the King of Sweden, and you do
not do yours! You shall no longer bear my
name. I will have no misunderstanding between
the house of Vestris and the house of Bourbon;
they have hitherto always lived on good terms."
It nearly broke Auguste's heart when one day
during the French Revolution he was seized by a
howling band of sans culottes and made to exhibit
his finest skill on the top of a barrel before this
ragged mob of liberty-loving citizens!
The fascinating sylph, Madeleine Guimard,
broke almost as many hearts and inspired as many
duels as the charming Sophie Arnould herself.
Plain even to ugliness, and excessively thin, her
exquisite dancing and splendid eyes made great
havoc among her numerous admirers. Lord Byron said that thin women when young reminded
him of dried butterflies, when old of spiders. The
stage associates of Mlle. Guimard called her
"L'araigne e," and Sophie Arnould christened her
"the little silkworm," for the sake of the joke
about " la feuille."  But such spiteful raillery did



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

79

not prevent her charming men to her feet whom
greater beauties had failed to captivate. Houdon
the sculptor molded her foot, and the great painters vied for the privilege of decorating the walls
of her hotel. When she broke her arm, mass was
said in church for her recovery, and she was one
of the reigning toasts of Paris. Among the numerous liaisons of Mlle. Guimard, that with the
Prince de Soubise is most noted. After this she
eloped with a German prince, and the Prince de
Soubise pursued them, wounded his rival, killed
three of his servants, and brought her back to
Paris in triumph. After a great variety of adventures of this nature, she married in 1787 a
humble professor of dancing named Despriaux.
Lord Mount Edgcumbe saw her in 1789 at the
King's Theatre in London. "Among them," he
writes, referring to a troupe of new performers,
"came the famous Mlle. Guimard, then nearly
sixty years old, but still full of grace and gentility, and she had never possessed more."
IV.
WHEiN Sophie Arnould retired from the stage,
she took a house near the Palais Royal, and extended as brilliant a hospitality as ever. She was
as celebrated for her practical jokes as for her
witticisms, of which the following freak is a good
example: One evening in 1780 she gave a grand
supper, to which, among others, she invited M.



80

GREAT SINGERS.

Barthe, author of "Les Fausses Infidelites," and
many similar pieces. He was inflated with vanity, though he was totally ignorant of everything
away from the theatre, and was, in fact, one of
those individuals who actually seem    to court
mystification and practical jokes. Mlle. Arnould
instructed her servant Jeannot, and had him announced pompously under the title of the Chevalier de Medicis, giving M. Barthe to understand
that the young man was an illegitimate son of the
house of Medici. The pretended nobleman appeared to be treated with respect and distinction
by the company, and he spoke to the poet with
much affability, professing great admiration for
his works. M. Barthe was enchanted. He was
in a flutter of gratified vanity, and, to show his
delight at the condescension of the chevalier, he
proposed to write an epic poem in honor of his
house.   This farce lasted during the evening.
The assembled company were in convulsions of
suppressed laughter, which broke out when, at
the moment of M. Barthe's most ecstatic admiration and respect for his new patron, Sophie Arnould lifted her glass, and, looking at the chevalier, said, in a clear voice, " Your health, Jeannot! "  The sensations of poor M. Barthe may
readily be imagined. The incident became the
story of the day in all circles, and the unlucky
poet could not go anywhere for fear of being
tormented about " Jeannot."



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

81

At length she withdrew completely from the
follies, passions, and cares of the world, and
bought an ancient monastic building, formerly
belonging to the monks of St. Francis, near Luzarches, eighteen or twenty miles from Paris.
This grim residence she decorated luxuriously in
its interior, and over the door inscribed the ecclesiastical motto, "P Be misset est." Here she remained
during the earlier storms of the Revolution, though
she occasionally went to Paris at the risk of her
head to gratify her curiosity about the republican management of opera, which presented some
very unique features. The reader will be interested in some brief pictures of the revolutionary
opera.
It was directed by four distinguished sans
culottes-Henriot, Chaumette, Le Rouxand, and
Hebert.   The nominal director, however, was
Francoeur, the same who first brought out Sophie
Arnould in Louis XV.'s time. Henriot, Danton,
H6bert, and other chiefs of the Revolution would
hardly take a turn in the coulisses or foyer before
they would say to some actor or actress: "We are
going to your room; see that we are received
properly." This of course meant a superb collation; and, after emptying many bottles of the
costliest wines, the virtuous republicans would retire without troubling themselves on the score of
expense. As this was a nightly occurrence, and
the poor actors had no money, the expense fell on



82

GREAT SINGERS.

the restaurateur, who was compelled to console himself by the reflection that it was in the cause of
liberty. Oftentimes the executioner, the dreaded
Sanson, who as public official had the right of entree, would stroll in and in a jocular tone emphasize his abilities as a critic by saying to the
singers that his opinion on the execution of the
music ought to be respected.* Operatic kings and
queens were suppressed, and the titles of royalty
were prohibited both on the stage and in the greenroom. It was necessary, indeed, to use the old monarchical repertoire; but kings were transformed
into chiefs; princes and dukes became members
of the Convention or representatives of the people; seigneurs became mayors, and substitutes
were found for words like " crown," " scepter,"
" throne," etc. There was one great difficulty to
overcome. This was met by placing the scenes of
the new operas in Italy, Portugal, etc.-anywhere
but in France, where it was indispensable from a
political point of view, but impossible from the
poetic and musical, to make lovers address each
other as citoyen, citoyenne.
H6bert would frequently display proscriptive
lists in the green-room, including the names of
many of the actors and other operatic employees,
* So, too, the London hangman one night went into the pit
of her Majesty's Theatre to hear Jenny Lind sing, and remarked
with a sigh of professional longing, "Ah, what a throat to
scrag!"



SOPHIE ARNOULD.

83

and say, "I shall have to send you all to the guillotine some day, but I have been prevented hitherto by the fact that you have conduced to my
amusement." The stratagem which saved them
was to get the ferocious Hebert drunk, for he
loved wine as well as blood, and steal the fatal
document. However, this operatic dilettante always appeared with a fresh one next day. One
bloodthirsty republican, Lefebvre, who was ambitious for musical fame, insisted on singing first
characters. He appeared as prino tenore, and
was hissed; he then tried his luck as first bass,
and was again hissed by his friends the sans culottes. Enraged by the fiasco, he attributed it to
the machinations of a counter-revolution, and nearly persuaded Robespierre to give him a platoon of
musketeers to fire on the infamous emissaries of
"Pitt and Coburg." Yet, though the Reign of
Terror was a fearful time for art and artists,
there were sixty-three theatres open, and they
were always crowded in spite of war, famine, and
the guillotine.
It was fortunate for Sophie Arnould that her
connection with the opera had closed prior to this
dreadful period. As stated previously, she remained undisturbed during the early years of the
Revolution. Only once a band of sans culottes invaded her retreat. To their suspicious questions
she answered by assurances of loving the republic devotedly. Her unconsciously satirical smile
8



84

GREAT SINGERS.

aroused distrust, and they were about hurrying
her off to prison, when she pointed out a bust of
Gluck, and inquired if she would keep a bust of
Marat if she were not loyal to the republic. This
satisfied her intelligent inquisitors, and they retreated, saying, "She is a good citoyenne, after
all," as they saluted the marble.   During this
time she was still rich, having thirty thousand
livres a year. But misfortunes thickened, and
in two years she had lost nearly every franc.
Obliged to go to Paris to try to save the wreck
of her estate, she found her hosts of friends dissipated like the dew, all guillotined, shot, exiled, or
imprisoned.
A gleam of sunshine came, however, in the
kindness of Fouch6, the Minister of Police, an old
lover.  One morning the Minister received the
message of an unknown lady visitor. On receiving her he instantly recognized the still beautiful
and sparkling lineaments of the woman he had
once adored. Fouch6, touched, heard her story,
and by his powerful intercession secured for her
a pension of twenty-four hundred livres and
handsome apartments in the Hotel D'Angevilliers. Here she speedily drew around her again
the philosophers and fashionables, the poets and
the artists of the age; and the Sophie Arnould of
the golden days of old seemed resurrected in the
vivacity and brilliancy of the talk from  which
time and misfortune had taken nothing of its pun


SOPHIE ARNOULD.               85
gent salt. In 1803 she died obscurely; and the
same year there also passed out of the world two
other celebrated women, the great actress Clairon
and the singer De Beaumesnil, once Sophie's
rival.
Lord Mount Edgcumbe, in his " Musical Reminiscences," speaks of Sophie Arnould, whom he
heard in ante-revolutionary days, as a woman of
entrancing beauty and very great dramatic genius.
This connoisseur tells us too that her voice, though
limited in range and not very flexible, was singularly rich, strong, and sweet, fitting her exceptionally for the performance of the simple and noble
arias of Gluck, which were rather characterized by
elevation and dramatic warmth than florid ornamentation. Her place in art is, therefore, as the
finest contemporary interpreter of Wagner's greater predecessor.



86

GREAT SINGERS.

ELIZABETH BILLINGTON AND HER
CONTEMPORARIES.
Elizabeth Weichsel's Runaway Marriage.-Debut at Covent Garden.-Lord Mount Edgcumbe's Opinion of her Singing.-Her
Rivalry with Mme. Mara.-Mrs. Billington's Greatness in
English Opera.-She sings in Italy in 1794-'99.-Her Great
Power on the Italian Stage.-Marriage with Felican.-Reappearance in London in Italian and English Opera.-Sketch of
Mme. Mara's Early Life.-Her Great Triumphs on the
English Stage.-Anecdotes of her Career and her Retirement
from England.-Grassini and Napoleon.-The Italian Prima
Donna disputes Sovereignty with Mrs. Billington.-Her Qualities as an Artist.-Mrs. Billington's Retirement from the
Stage and Declining Years.
I.
AMONG the comparatively few great vocalists
born in England, the traditions of Mrs. Elizabeth
Billington's singing rank her as by far the greatest.
Brought into competition with many brilliant artists from other countries, she held her position unshaken by their rivalry. She came of musical
stock. Her father, Charles Weichsel, was Saxon by
birth, but spent most of his life as an orchestral
player in London; and her mother was a charming
vocalist of considerable repute.    Born in 1770 in
the English capital, she was most carefully trained
in music from an early age, and her gifts displayed
themselves so manifestly as to give assurance of
that brilliant future which made her the admi


ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

87

ration of her times. Both she and her brother
Charles were regarded as prodigies of youthful
talent, the latter having attained some distinction
on the violin at the age of six, though he failed
in after-years, unlike his brilliant sister, to fulfill
his juvenile promise. Elizabeth Weichsel when
only eleven composed original pieces for the
piano, and at the age of fourteen appeared in
concert at Oxford. Her career was so long and
eventful that we must hurry over its youthful
stages. The young cantatrice at the age of fifteen was sought in marriage by Mr. Thomas Billington, who had been her music-master, and, as
her father was bitterly opposed to the connection,
the enamored couple eloped, and were married at
Lambeth Church with great secrecy.
They soon found themselves at their wits' end.
With no money, and without the established reputation which commands the attention of managers, Mrs. Billington found that in taking a husband she had assumed a fresh responsibility.
Finally she secured an engagement at the Smock
Alley Theatre in Dublin, when she appeared in
Gluck's opera of " Orpheus and Eurydice," with
the well-known tenor Tenducci, whose exquisite
singing of the air, " Water parted from the Sea,"
in the opera of " Artaxerxes," had chiefly contributed to his celebrity. It was 4 propos of this
that the well-known Irish street-song of the day
was composed:



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GREAT SINGERS.

"Tenducci was a piper's son,
And he was in love when he was young;
And all the tunes that he could play
Was ' Water parted from the Say.' "
For about a year the young singer played provincial engagements, but it was good training for
her. Her powers were becoming matured, and
she was learning self-reliance in the bitter school
of experience, which more and more assured her
of coming triumph. At last she persuaded Lewis,
the manager of Covent Garden, to give her a
metropolitan hearing. Though her voice at this
time had not attained the volume and power of
after-years, its qualities were exceptional.  Its
compass was in the upper notes extraordinary,
though in the lower register rather limited. She
was well aware of this defect, and tried to remedy it by substituting one octave for another; a
license which passed unnoticed by the undiscriminating multitude, while it was easily excused by
cultivated ears, being, as one connoisseur remarked, "like the wild luxuriance of poetical
imagery, which, though against the cold rules of
the critic, constitutes the true value of poetry."
She had not the full tones of Banti, but rather
resembled those of Allegranti, whom she closely
imitated. Her voice, in its very high tones, was
something of the quality of a flute or flageolet,
or resembled a commixture of the finest sounds
of the flute and violin, if such could be imag


ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

ined. It was then "wild and wandering," but
of singular sweetness. "Its agility," says Mount
Edgcumbe, "was very great, and everything she
sang was executed in the neatest manner and
with the utmost precision. Her knowledge of
music enabled her to give great variety to her
embellishments, which, as her taste was always
good, were always judicious."  In her cadenzas,
however, she was obliged to trust to her memory, for she never could improvise an ornament.
Her ear was so delicate that she could instantly
detect any instrument out of tune in a large
orchestra; and her intonation was perfect. In
manner she was "peculiarly bewitching," and
her attitudes generally were good, with the exception of an ugly habit of pressing her hands
against her bosom when executing difficult passages. Her face and figure were beautiful, and
her countenance was full of good humor, though
not susceptible of varied expression; indeed, as
an actress, she had comparatively little talent,
depending chiefly on her voice for producing
effect on the stage.
Mrs. Billington's dclut in London was on
February 13, 1786, in the presence of royalty
and a great throng of nobility and fashion, in
the character of Rosetta in " Love in a Village."
Her success was beyond the most sanguine hopes,
and her brilliant style, then an innovation in English singing, bewildered the pit and delighted the



90

GREAT SINGERS.

musical connoisseurs. The leader of the orchestra
was so much absorbed in one of her beautiful cadenzas that he forgot to give the chord at its
close. So much science, taste, birdlike sweetness,
and brilliancy had never before been united in an
English singer. So Mrs. Billington assumed undisputed sovereignty in the realm of song, for one
night made her famous. The managers, who had
haggled over the terms of thirteen pounds a week
for her first brief engagement of twelve nights,
were glad to give her a thousand pounds for the
rest of the season. For her second part she chose
Polly Peachum in " The Beggars' Opera," to show
her detractors that she could sing simple English
ballad-music with no less taste and effect than
the brilliant and ornate style with which she first
took the town by storm.     Mara, the great German singer, who until then had no rival, was distracted with rage and jealousy, which the sweettempered Billington treated with a careless smile.
Though her success had been so brilliant, she relaxed no effort in self-improvement, and studied
assiduously both vocalism and the piano. Indeed,
Salomon, Haydn's impressario, said of her with
enthusiasm, " Sar, she sing equally well wid her
troat and her fingers." At the close of this season, which was the opening of a great career,
Mrs. Billington visited Paris, where she placed
herself under the instruction of the composer
Sacchini, who greatly aided her by his happy sug


ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

91

gestions. To him she confesses herself to have
been most indebted for what one of her admirers
called " that pointed expression, neatness of execution, and nameless grace by which her performance was so happily distinguished."
Kelly, the Irish actor and singer, who made her
acquaintance about this time, said he thought her
an angel of beauty and the St. Cecilia of song.
Her loveliness enchanted even more by the sweetness and amiability of its expression than by symmetry of feature, and everywhere she was the
idol of an adoring public. Even her rivals, embittered by professional jealousy, soon melted in
the sunshine of her sweet temper. An amusing
example of professional rivalry is related by John
Bernard in his "Reminiscences," where Miss
George, afterward Lady Oldmixon, managed to
cloud the favorite's success by a cunning musical
trick. "Mrs. Billington, who was engaged on
very high terms for a limited number of nights,
made her first appearance on the Dublin stage in
the character of Polly in 'The Beggars' Opera,'
surrounded by her halo of popularity. She was
received with acclamations, and sang her songs
delightfully; particularly' Cease your Funning,'
which was tumultuously encored. Miss George,
who performed the part of Lucy (an up-hill singing part), perceiving that she had little chance of
dividing the applause with the great magnet of
the night, had recourse to the following stratagem:



.92

GREAT SINGERS.

When the dialogue duet in the second act, ' Why,
how now, Madam Flirt?' came on, Mrs. Billington having given her verse with exquisite sweetness, Miss George, setting propriety at defiance,
sang the whole of her verse an octave higher, her
tones having the effect of the high notes of a
sweet and brilliant flute. The audience, taken by
surprise, bestowed on her such loud applause as
almost shook the walls of the theatre, and a unanimous encore was the result."
Haydn gave this opinion on her in his " Diary
in 1791: " On the 10th of December I went to
see the opera of 'The Woodman' (by Shield). It
was on the day when the provoking memoir of
Mrs. Billington was published. She sang rather
timidly, but yet well. She is a great genius.
The tenor was Incledon.    The common people
in the gallery are very troublesome in every theatre, and take lead in uproar. The audience in the
pit and boxes have often to clap a long time before they can get a fine part repeated. It was so
this evening with the beautiful duet in the third
act: nearly a quarter of an hour was spent in
contention, but at length the pit and boxes gained
the victory, and the duet was repeated. The two
actors stood anxiously on the stage all the while."
The great composer paid her one of the prettiest compliments she ever received. Reynolds was
painting her portrait in the character of St. Cecilia,
and one day Haydn called just as it was being fin


ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

93

ished. Haydn contemplated the picture very attentively, then said suddenly, "But you have made
a great mistake." The painter started up aghast.
"How! what?"      "Why," said Haydn, "you
have represented Mrs. Billington listening to the
angels; you should have made the angels listening-to her! "  Mrs. Billington blushed with pleasure. " Oh, you dear man! " cried she, throwing
her arms round his neck and kissing him.
II.
Mus. BILLINGTON seems to have entertained
the notion in 1794 of quitting the stage, and went
abroad to free herself from the protests and reproaches which she knew the announcement of
her purpose would call forth if she remained
in England. Accompanied by her husband and
brother, she sauntered leisurely through Europe,
for her professional exertions had already brought
her a comfortable fortune. A trivial accident set
her feet again in the path which she had designed
to forsake, and which she was destined to adorn
with a more brilliant distinction. The party had
traveled incognito, but on arriving in Naples a
babbling servant revealed the identity of the
great singer, which speedily became known to
Lady Hamilton, Lord Nelson's friend, then domiciled in Naples as the favorite of the royal family.
Lady Hamilton insisted on presenting Mrs. Billington to the Queen, and she was persuaded to



94

GREAT SINGERS.

sing in a private concert before their Majesties,
which was swiftly succeeded by an invitation, so
urgent as to take the color of command, to sing
at the San Carlo. So the English prima donna
made her d(5ut before the Neapolitans in "Inez
di Castro," which had been specially arranged for
her by Francesco Bianchi.    The fervid Naples
audience received her with passionate acclamations, to which she had never been accustomed
from the more impassive English. Hitherto her
reputation had been mostly identified with Eng,
lish opera; thenceforward she was to be known
chiefly as a brilliant exponent of the Italian school
of music.
Paesiello's " Didone," Paer's "Ero e Leandro,"
and Guglielmi's " Deborah e Sisera" rapidly succeeded, each one confirming afresh the admiration of her hearers, who were all cognoscenti, as
Italian audiences generally are.  It became the
vogue to patronize the beautiful cantatrice, and
the large English colony, who were led by some
of the noblest gentlewomen of England, such as
Lady Templeton, Lady Palmerston, Lady Gertrude Villiers, Lady Grandison, and others, made
it a matter of national pride to give the singer an
enthusiastic support. English influence was allparamount at the court of Naples, from important political exigencies, and this cooperated with
Mrs. Billington's extraordinary merits to raise her
to a degree of consideration which had been rarely



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

95

attained by any singer in that beautiful Italian
capital, prone as its people are to indulge in exaggerated admiration of musical celebrities. She
sang for nearly two years at the San Carlo, and
in 1796 we find her at Bologna before French
military audiences, whom Napoleon's Italian victories had brought across the Alps.   The conqueror confessed himself vanquished by the lovely Billington, and made her the guest of himself
and Josephine, who admired the art no less than
she dreaded the beauty of a possible rival.
The English singer passed from city to city of
Italy, everywhere arousing the liveliest admiration.
Her d~but in Venice was to be in " Semiramide,"
written expressly for her by Nasolini, a young
composer of great promise. Illness, however,
confined her to her bed for six months, in spite
of which the impressario paid her salary in full.
She recovered, and showed her gratitude by singing without recompense during the fair of the
Ascension, when immense throngs flocked to Venice. The corps diplomatique presenited her on the
first night with a jeweled necklace of immense
value, as a testimonial of their esteem and pleasure at her recovery.
A singular evidence of the superstition of the
Neapolitans was shown on her return to their
city, which was then threatened by an eruption
of Vesuvius and a dreadful earthquake, the cause
of considerable damage. The populace believed
9



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GREAT SINGERS.

that it was a visitation of God in punishment for
the permission granted to a heretic Englishwoman
to sing at San Carlo. Mrs. Billington's safety was
for a time threatened, but her talents and popularity at last triumphed, and she rose higher in public regard than before. Her Neapolitan engagement was terminated very suddenly by the death
of her husband, as he was in the act one evening
of cloaking her prior to her stepping into her carriage to go to the theatre. A single gasp and a
convulsion, and Thomas Billington was dead at
his wife's feet. The consternation at this event
was mixed with much scandal, and many whispered that he had died from poison or the dagger.
It was known that the Neapolitan nobles had
paid Mrs. Billington warm    attention, and hints
of assassination were industriously circulated by
those gossip-mongers who are always in quest
of a fresh social sensation. Mrs. Billington, after' remaining for some time in retirement, fled
from  a scene which was fraught with painful
memories, though there is no reason to believe
that she deeply lamented the loss. of a husband
whose only attraction to this brilliant woman was
the reflected light of her youth, which invested
him with the association of her first girlish love.
At all events, the widow succeeded in becoming
desperately enamored in Milan, a short six months
after, with an officer of the French commissariat,
M. Felican. He was a remarkably handsome man,



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

97.

and his strong siege of the lovely Billington soon
caused her to surrender at discretion.  She declared "she was in love for the first time in her
life," and her marriage took place in 1799 without
delay. Her raptures, however, came to a swift
conclusion; for among M. Pelican's favorite methods of displaying marital devotion were beating
her, and hurling dishes or other convenient movables at her head when in the least irritated. The
novel character of her honeymoon soon became
known to a curious and possibly envious public,
and the brutal Felican was publicly flogged at
the drum-head by order of General Serrurier,
within two months of her marriage, for whipping her so cruelly that she could not appear in
the opera of the evening.
The tenor, Braham, sang with Mrs. Billington
at Milan during this period, in the opera " I Trionfo de Claria," by Nasolini, and an amusing incident occurred in the rivalry of the two, each to
surpass the other in popular estimation. The applause which Braham received at rehearsal enraged Felican, who intrigued till he persuaded
the leader to omit the grand aria for the tenor
voice, in which Braham's powers were advantageously displayed. This piece of spite and jealousy being noised about, the public openly testified their displeasure, and the next day it was
announced by Gherardi, the manager, in the bills,
that Braham's scena should be performed; and



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GREAT SINGERS

on the second night of the opera it was received
with tumultuous applause. Braham, justly indignant, avenged himself in an ingenious manner, but
his wrath descended on an innocent head. Mrs.
Billington's embellishments were always elaborately studied, and, when once fixed on, seldom
changed. The angry tenor, knowing this, caught
her roulades, and on the first opportunity, his air
coming first, he coolly appropriated all her fioriture. Poor Mrs. Billington listened in dismay at
the wings.   She could not improvise ornaments
and graces; and, when she came on, the unusual
meagerness of her style astonished the audience.
She refused, in the next opera, to sing a duet with
Braham; but, as she was good-natured, she forgave him, and they always remained excellent
friends.
With that perverse devotion which characterizes the love of so many women, Mrs. Billington
clung to her brutal husband in spite of his cruelty
and callousness, and she did not separate from him
till she feared for her life. Many times he threatened to kill her, and extorted from her by fear all
the valuable jewels in her possession, as well as
the larger share of the money received from professional exertion.  Despairing at last of any
change, she fled with great secrecy to England,
where she arrived in 1801, after an absence of
seven years, during which time her name had become one of the most popular in Europe. There



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

99

was instantly a battle between Harris and Sheridan, the rival managers, as to which should secure
this peerless attraction. She finally signed a contract with her old friend Harris, for three thousand guineas the season from October to-April,
and the guarantee of a free benefit of five hundred
guineas. It was likewise arranged that she should
sing for Sheridan at similar terms on alternate
nights, as there was a bitter dispute between the
managers over the priority of the offer accepted
by the prima donna. Her reappearance before an
English audience was made in Dr. Arne's "Artaxerxes," which the critics of the day praised as
possessing " the beautiful melody of Hasse, the
mellifluous richness of Pergolese, the easy flow of
Piccini, and the finished cantabile of Sacchini,
with his own true and native simplicity." It is not
only the criticism of to-day which has concealed
the real form and quality of works of merely temporary interest under flowery phrases, that mean
nothing.
It was speedily observed how greatly Mrs. Billington's style had improved in her absence. Lord
Mount Edgcumbe says she resembled Mara so
much that the same observations would apply to
both equally well. "Both were excellent musicians, thoroughly skilled in their profession; both
had voices of uncommon sweetness and agility,
particularly suited to the bravura style, and executed to perfection and with good taste everything



100

GREAT SINGERS.

they sang. But neither was Italian, and consequently both were deficient in recitative. Neither
had much feeling, both were deficient in theatrical talents, and they were absolutely null as
actresses; therefore they were more calculated to
give pleasure in the concert-room than on the
stage." It was noticed that her pronunciation of
the English language was not quite free from impurities, arising principally from the introduction
of vowels before consonants, a habit probably acquired from  the Italian custom.    "Her whole
style of elocution," observes one writer, " may be
described as sweet and persuasive rather than
powerful and commanding. It naturally assumed
the character of her mind and voice." She was
considered the most accomplished singer that had
ever been born in England.
Mrs. Billington displayed her talents in a variety of operatic characters, which taxed her versatility, but did not prove beyond her powers. Both
English and Italian operas, serious and comic
rdles, seemed entirely within her scope; and those
who admired her as Manldane were not less fascinated by her Rosetta, when Incledon shared the
honors of the evening with herself. In spite of
Lord Mount Edgcumbe's somewhat severe judgment as given above, she appears to have pleased
by her acting as well as singing, if we can judge
from the wide diversity of characters in which she
appeared so successfully. We are justified in this,



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

101

especially from the character of the English opera,
of which Mrs. Billington was so brilliant an exponent; for this was rather musical drama than
opera, and made strong demands on histrionic
faculty. As Rosetta, in "Love in a Village," a
performance in which Mrs. Billington was peculiarly charming, she drew such throngs that the
price of admission was raised for the nights on
which it was offered. The witticism of Jekyl, the
great barrister, made the town laugh on one of
these occasions.. Being present with a country
friend in the pit, the latter asked him, as Mrs. Billington appeared in the garden-scene, " Is that
Rosetta? " The singer's portly form, which had
increased largely in bulk during her Italian absence, made the answer peculiarly appropriate
" No, sir, it is not Rosetta, it is Grand Cairo."
Life was running smoothly for Mrs. Billington;
never had her popularity reached so high a pitch;
never had Fortune favored her with such lavish
returns for her professional abilities. One night
she was horrified with fear and disgust on returning home to see her brutal husband, Felican, lolling on the sofa. He had been heart-broken at
separation from his beloved wife, and could endure it no longer. It was only left for her to
bribe him to depart with a large sum of money,
which she fortunately could afford. "I never,"
says Kelly, " saw a woman so much in awe of a
man as poor Mrs. Billington was of him whom



102

GREAT SINGERS.

she had married for love." On the 3d of July,
1802, she sang with Mme. Mara at the farewell
benefit of that distinguished singer. Both rose
to the utmost pitch of their skill, and, in their
attempts to surpass each other, the theatre rang
with thunders of applause. In our sketches of
some of Mrs. Billington's rivals and contemporaries, Mme. Mara demands precedence.
III.
FREDERICK THE GREAT loved war and music
with equal fervor, and possessed talents for the
one little inferior to his genius for the other. He
played with remarkable skill on the flute, of which
instrument he possessed a large collection, and
composed original music with both science and
facility. This royal connoisseur carried his despotism into his love of art, and ruled with an iron
hand over those who catered for the amusement of
himself and the good people of Berlin. Though
the creator of that policy which, in the hands of
Bismarck and the modern German nationalists,
has wrought such wonderful results, and which
has extended itself even to matters of aesthetic
culture as a gospel of patriotic bigotry, the great
Fritz thoroughly despised everything German except in matters of state, and was completely
wedded to the literature of France and the art of
Italy. When the talents of a young German
vacalist, Mlle. Schmaling, were recommended to



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

103

him, it was enough for him to hear the report,
"She sings like a German," to make him     sniff
with disdain. " A German singer!" he said; " I
should as soon expect to get pleasure from the
neighing of my horse." Curiosity, however, at
last so far overcame prejudice as to make him
send for Mile. Schmiling, who was enthusiastically praised by many of those whose opinions the
King could not ignore, to come to Potsdam and
sing for him. Her pride, which was high, had
been wounded by the royal criticism, and she carried herself with as much hauteur as could go
with respect. The King regarded her with a cool
stare, without any gesture of salutation, and Mlle.
Schmaling amused herself with looking at the
pictures. "So you are going to sing me something? " at last said royalty with military abruptness.
The figure of the Prussian King as he sat by
the piano was anything but prepossessing.    A
little, crabbed, spare old man, attired with Spartan simplicity, in a faded blue coat, whose red
facings were smudged brown with the Spanish
snuff he so liberally took; thin lips, prominent
jaws, receding forehead, and eyes of supernatural
keenness glaring from under shaggy brows; a
battered cocked hat, and a thick cane, which he
used as a whip to belabor his horse, his courtiers,
or his soldiers as occasion needed, on the table
before him-all these made a grim picture.



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GREAT -SINGERS.

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



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

105

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



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GREAT SINGERS.

Frederick was highly pleased with his musical
acquisition, but a more potent monarch than himself soon appeared to disturb his royal complacency. Mile. Schmiling, placed in a new position
of ease and luxury, found time to indulge her
natural bent as a woman, and fell in love with a
handsome violoncellist, Jean Mara, who was in the
service of the King's brother. Mara was a showy,
shallow, selfish man, and pushed his suit with vigor,
for success meant fortune and a life of luxurious
ease. The King forbade the match, so the enamored couple eloped, and, being arrested by the
King's guards, they were punished by Fritz with
solitary confinement for disobedience. At last the
King relented, and sanctioned the marriage which
he suspected opposition would only delay, probably
fully aware that the lady would soon repent her
infatuation. Jean Mara did all in his power to
effect this result, for the honeymoon had hardly
ended before he began to beat his bride at small
provocation with all the energy of a sturdy arm.
Poor Mine. Mara had a hard life of it thenceforward, but she never ceased to love Mara to the
last; and many years afterward, when a friend
was severely reprobating his brutality, she said,
with a sigh of loving regret, " Ah! but you must
confess he was the handsomest man you ever
saw.1"
The King frequently interposed to punish
Mara for his harshness. On one occasion he gave



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

107

him a public caning and on another he sent him
to a field regiment, noted for the rigid severity of
its discipline, to be enrolled as a drummer for three
months, accompanying the order with the mot,
" His propensity for beating shall have the fullest
ekercise on the drum."  A ludicrous sentence of
the royal despot was that which consigned him to
the tender mercies of the body-guard, with strict
orders for his correction. No particular mode of
punishment was prescribed, so each soldier inflicted such chastisement as he considered most
fitting. They began by rigging him out in an old
uniform and a large pair of whiskers, loading him
with the heaviest firelock they could find, and
forced him to go through the manual exercise for
two hours, accompanying their drill with the
usual discipline of the cane. They then made him
dance and sing for two hours longer, and ended
this persecution by compelling the surgeon to take
from him a large quantity of blood. In a miserable condition they restored him to his disconsolate wife, who had been essaying all her arts to
persuade the officer of the guard to mitigate the
poor wretch's punishment.
The King's method of carrying on the opera
was characteristic. Performances were free, and
commenced precisely at 6 r. iu., when, prompt to
the minute, the King appeared and took his seat
just behind the conductor, where he could see the
score, and notice every mistake, either instru10



108

GREAT SINGERS.

mental or vocal. A royal caning often repaid
any unlucky artist who made a blunder, much to
the gratification of the audience. Such a patron as
this, however generous, could not be considered
highly desirable; and Mine. Mara, whose reputation had become world-wide, longed more and
more to accept some of the brilliant offers which
came to her from the great capitals of Europe.
But Frederick would not let his favorite prima
donna go, and the royal passport was necessary
for getting beyond the limits of the kingdom.
An example of Frederick's method of dealing
with his subjects and servants is found in the following incident: The Grand Duke Paul of Russia
was visiting Berlin, and on a gala night a grand
performance of opera was to be given. Mnme.
Mara had sent an excuse that she was sick, but a
laconic notice from her royal patron insisted that
she was to get well and sing her best. So the
prima donna took to her bed and grew worse and
worse. Two hours before the opera commenced,
a carriage escorted by eight soldiers drew up in
front of the house, and the captain of the guard,
unceremoniously entering her room, intimated
that she must go to the theatre dead or alive.
" You can not take me," she said with tears
of rage; "you see I am in bed."
" That's of little consequence," was the imperturbable response; "we'll take you bed and all."
TMadame's eyes flashed fire, and she stormed



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

109

with fury; but the obdurate captain could not
be moved, and, to avoid the disgrace of being
taken by force, she accepted an armistice.   "I
will go to the theatre," she said, mentally resolving to sing as badly as, with a magnificent
voice and irreproachable taste, she could possibly
manage.   Resolutely she kept to this idea till
the curtain was about to descend on the first act,
when a thought suddenly seized her. Might she
not be ruining herself in giving the Grand Duke
of Russia a bad opinion of her powers? In a
bravura she burst forth with all her power, distinguishing herself especially by a marvelous
shake, which she executed with such wonderful
art as to call down thunders of applause.
At last the Maras succeeded in effecting their
escape by stratagem.   In passing through one
city they were stopped by an officer of gens
d'armes, who demanded the requisite papers.
Faltering with dread, yet with quick self-possession, Mme. Mara handed him a letter in the
royal handwriting. The signature was enough,
and the officer did not stop to read the body of
the letter, but turned out the guard to honor
travelers possessing such signal proofs of the
King's favor. They had just gained the gates of
Dresden when they found that the Prussian
charge dc'cfaires resided in the city. "No one
can conceive my agitation and alarm," said Mme.
Mara, "when, in one of the first streets we en


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GREAT SINGERS.

tered, we encountered the said charge d'afctires,
who rode directly up to us. He had been apprised of our arrival, and the chaise was instantly
stopped. As to what took place between him
and my good man, and how the latter contrived
to get out of the scrape, I was totally unconscious.
I had fallen into a swoon, from which I did not
recover till we hal reached our inn." At length
they reached the confines of Bohemia, and, for
the first time, supped in freedom and security.
The Austrian Empress, Maria Theresa, would
have found enough motive in patronizing Mara
in the fact that her great Prussian rival had persecutecd her; but love of art was a further inducement which drew out her kindliest feelings.
The singer remained at the Viennese court for
two years, and left it for Paris, with autograph
letters to the ill-fated Marie Antoinette.  She
was most cordially welcomed both by court and
public, and soon became such a rival to the distinguished Portuguese prima donna, Todi, then
in the zenith of her fame, that the devotees of
music divided themselves into fierce factions respectively named after the rival queens of song.
Mara was honored with the title of premiere cantatrice cle la reine, and left Paris with regret, to
begin her English career under singularly favorable auspices, as she was invited to share a partnership with Linley and Dr. Arnold for the production of oratorios at Drury Lane.



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

111

She was fortunate in making her first appearance in the grand Handel commemoration at
Westminster Abbey, given under the patronage
of George III., who loved the memory of the
great composer. Even in this day of magnificent
musical festivals, that Westminster assemblage of
musicians would have been a remarkable occasion.
The following is an account of it from a contemporary source: "The orchestra was led by the
Cramers; the conductors were Joah Bates, Dr.
Arnold, and Dupuis. The band consisted of several hundreds of performers. The singers were,
in addition to Mme. Mara, Signora Storace, Miss
Abrams, Miss Poole (afterward Mrs. Dickons),
Rubinelli, Harrison, Bartleman, Sale, Parry, Norris, Kelly, etc.; and the chorus, collected from
all parts of the kingdom, amounted to hundreds
of voices. The Abbey was arranged for the accommodation of the public in a superb and commodious manner, and the tickets of admission
were one guinea each. The first performance took
place on May 26, 1784; and such was the anxiety
to be in time, that ladies and gentlemen had their
hair dressed over night, and slept in arm-chairs.
The weather being very fine, eager crowds presented themselves at the several doors of the Abbey at nine o'clock, although the door-keepers
were not at their posts, and the orchestra was not
finished. At ten o'clock the scene became almost
terrifying to the visitors, who, being in full dress,



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GREAT SINGERS.

were every moment more incommoded and alarmed
by the violence of the crowds pressing forward
to get near the doors.    Several of the ladies
screamed; others fainted; and the general dismay increased to such an extent that fatal consequences were anticipated. Some of the more irascible among the gentlemen threatened to burst
open the doors; 'a measure,' says Dr. Burney,
'which, if adopted, would probably have cost
many of the more feeble and helpless their lives,
as they must, in falling, have been thrown down
and trampled on by the robust and impatient part
of the crowd.' However, except that some went
in with 'disheveled hair and torn garments,' no
real mischief seems to have been done. The spectacle was gorgeous. The King, Queen, and all
the royal family, were ushered to a superb box,
opposite the orchestra, by the directors, wearing
full court suits, the medal of Handel struck for
the occasion, suspended by white-satin rosettes
to their breasts, and having white wands in their
hands. The body of the cathedral, the galleries,
and every corner were crowded with beauty, rank,
and fashion, listening with almost devout silence
to the grand creations of the great composer, not
the faintest token of applause disturbing the impressive ceremony."
The splendid and solemn tones of Mara's voice
enraptured every heart, and her style was the
theme of universal admiration. A few, however,



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

113

resisted the charm of her singing. Miss Seward
was breakfasting one morning with Mr. Joah
Bates, one of the conductors, and delicately flattered his wife's singing of the Handelian music
by saying that Mara put too much gold and fringe
upon that solemn robe of melody, " I know that
my Redeemer liveth." "Do not say gold, madame," answered the tart musician; "it was despicable tinsel."
At one of these Westminster Abbey performances a striking coincidence occurred. The morning had been threatening a storm; but instantly
the grand chorus " Let there be light, and light
was over all " commenced, the sun burst forth and
gilded every dark nook of the solemn old Abbey
with a flood of splendor. On another occasion,
while a chorus descriptive of a storm was being
sung, a hurricane burst over the Abbey, and the
fierce rattling of hailstones, accompanied by peals
of thunder, kept time to the grand music of Handel. During the performance of the chorus " The
Lord God Omnipotent Reigneth," the audience
was so moved that King, Queen, royal family,
and all present, rose by a common impulse to their
feet-a practice which has been preserved in English audiences to this day during the singing of
this mightiest of all musical choruses.  Mme.
Mara gave great offense by remaining seated.
Shortly afterward she sang at a musical festival of Oxford University, whither the report of her



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supposed bad temper and intractability had preceded her. The gownsmen were as riotous then
as now; and as one or two things happened to
irritate their lively temper, a row soon became imminent. Mara got angry and flung a book at the
head of one of the orchestra, when Dr. Chapman,
the Vice-Chancellor, arose and said that Mme.
Mara had conducted herself too ill to be allowed
to sing before such an audience.   Instantly a
wicked wag cried out, "A riot, by permission of
the Vice-Chancellor! " A scene of the utmost
confusion ensued, and the agitated cantatrice
quitted the theatre, amid hisses and yells, in high
dudgeon.   A  deputation of gentlemen waited
upon her, and promised that she should do exactly as she pleased if she would only return. She
did return, and sang the airs allotted to her, but
remained seated as usual while the choruses were
being sung. A cry arose of "Turn Mara out!"
Not comprehending, she smiled, which provoked
the audience still more; upon which the ViceChancellor said that it was always the rule for
every vocalist to join in the choruses.  Miss
George, one of the singers, explained this to the
prima donna, who, staring in bewilderment and
vexation, exclaimed, " Oh! me does not know his
rules; me vill go home"; which resolution she
immediately carried into effect.
This great singer's numerous quarrels and controversies in England were very amusing. Yet,



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

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in spite of the personal bitterness growing out of
her own irritable temper and professional rivalry,
she remained a great artistic favorite with the
public.  Underneath the asperity and obstinacy
of her character there was a vein of deep tenderness and generosity, which she showed in various
cases, especially in forwarding the interests of
struggling artists. Michael Kelly, the Irish composer, in his "Reminiscences," gives the following
instance.  He himself, then a young man, had
aroused Mara's dislike by some inadvertent praise
of a rival. Watching his opportunity, he brought
into the greenroom one night, when she came off
the stage fatigued and panting with her efforts, a
pot of foaming porter, which she drank with a
sigh of deepest pleasure. Touched by the young
Irishman's thoughtfulness, she pledged herself to
help him whenever the opportunity came, and
soon after sang at his benefit. Mara had resolved
not to sing again on the lyric stage, and her condescension was a godsend to Kelly, who was then
very much out at elbows. Speaking of her proffer, he says: "I was thunderstruck at her kindness and liberality, and thankfully accepted. She
fixed on M]andane in 'Artaxerxes,' and brought
the greatest receipts ever known at that house, as
the whole pit, with the exception of two benches,
was railed into boxes.   So much," he adds sententiously, "for a little German proficiency, a
little common civility, and a pot of porter."



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IV.
MME. MARA made such a brilliant hit in opera
that the public clamor for her continuance on the
stage overcame her old resolutions. The operahouse was reopened, and Sir John Gallini, with
this popular favorite at the head of his enterprise, had a most prosperous season. Both as a
lyric cantatrice and as the matchless singer of
oratorio, she was the delight of the public for two
years. In 1788 she went to Turin to sing at the
Carnival, where it was the custom to open the
gala season with a fresh artist, who supplied the
place of the departing vocalist, whether a soprano or tenor. Her predecessor, a tenor, was
piqued at his dismissal, and tried to prejudice the
public against her by representing her as alike
ugly in person and faulty in art. Mara's shrewdness of resource turned the tables on the Italian.
On her first appearance her manner was purposely
full of gaucherie, her costume badly considered
and all awry, her singing careless and out of time.
The maligner was triumphant, and said to all,
"Didn't I say so? See how ugly she is; and as
for singing-did you ever hear such a vile jargon
of sounds? " On the second night Mara appeared
most charmingly dressed, and she sang like an
angel-a surprise to the audience which drove the
excitable Italians into the most passionate uproar
of applause and delight. Mara was crowned on



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

117

the stage, and was received by the King and
Queen with the heartiest kindness and a profusion
of costly gifts. A similar reception at Venice
tempted her to prolong her Italian tour, but she
preferred to return to London, where she sang
under Wyatt at the Pantheon, which was transformed into a temporary opera-house. She now
sang with Pacchierotti, the successor of Farinelli
and Caffarelli, and the last inheritor of their
grand large style. " His duettos with Mara were
the most perfect pieces of execution I ever
heard," said Lord Mount Edgcumbe. One of the
most pathetic experiences of Mara's life was her
passage through Paris in 1792 on her way to Germany, when she saw her former patroness Marie
Antoinette, whom she remembered in all the glory
of her youth, popularity, and loveliness, seated
in an open chariot, pale, wan, and grief-stricken,
surrounded by a guard of troopers with drawn
swords and hooted at by a mob of howling sansculottes. Better far to be a mimib queen than to
be hurled from the most radiant and splendid
place in European royalty, to be the scorn and
plaything of the ragged ruffians of Paris, and to
finish with the guillotine in the Place de la GrBve!
About this time she was freed from the bete noire
of her life, her drunken worthless husband, who
agreed to trouble her no more if she would settle
an annuity on him. Thenceforward they never
met, though she always spoke of him with affection.



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Harris, of the Theatre Royal of Dublin, engaged Mara to sing in English opera in 1797.
Despite the fact that her English was so faulty,
that her person was unprepossessing, and that the
part was associated with some of the most beautiful and accomplished singers on the stage, her
performance of Polly Peachum in the " Beggars'
Opera" was a masterpiece of delicious simplicity
and archness.    The perfection of her art vanquished all obstacles, and she was acknowledged
the equal of Mrs. Crouch, and even of the resplendent Billington, in the part. Dr. Arnold records
that, in spite of the dancing and violent action of
the rdle, her tones were as free, smooth, and perfect as if she had been standing in the orchestra.
Mrs. Billington, who was just to her professional
rivals, said she regarded Mara's execution as superior to her own in genuine effect, though not in
compass and complication. If the rapid vocalization of a singer was praised, Mara would significantly ask, " Can she sing six plain notes? "
As time passed, Mme. Mara's voice began to
decline, and in 1802 she took advantage of an
annoying controversy to bid farewell to the English public; for the artist who could sing solemn music with such thrilling effect had the temper of a shrew, though it was easily placated.
Mrs. Billington generously offered her services to
assist at her farewell concert; and Mara, bursting
into tears, threw her arms about the neck of the



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

119

greatest of her professional rivals. She did not
sing again in England till 1820. Speaking of this
event, Kelly says, "It was truly grievous to see
such transcendent talents as she once possessed so
sunk, so fallen. I used every effort in my power
to prevent her committing herself, but in vain."
" When the incomparable Mme. Mara took
leave of me on her return to the Continent," says
Dr. Kitchener, "I could not help expressing my
regret that she had not taken my advice to publish those songs of Handel (her matchless performance of which gained her that undisputed
preeminence which she enjoyed), with the embellishments, etc., with which she enriched them.
This inimitable singer replied, 'Indeed, my good
friend, you attribute my success to a very different source than the real one. It was not what I
did, but the manner in which I did it. I could
sing six simple notes and produce every effect I
could wish; another singer may sing those very
same notes with very different effect. I am sure
it was to my expression of the words, that I owe
everything. People have often said to me, " Madame Mara, why do you not introduce more pretty
things, and passages, and graces in your singing? "
I say, " These pretty things are very pretty, to be
sure, but the proper expression of the words and
the music is a great deal better."' This and her
extraordinary industry were the secrets of her
undisputed sovereignty. SJi.e told me that when
11



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GREAT SINGERS.

she was encored in a song, which she very often
was, on her return home she seldom retired to rest
without first inventing a new cadence for the next
performance of it. Here is an example for young
singers! "
Mme. Mara continued to sing for many years
in different cities of Europe, though the recollections and traditions of her marvelous prime were
more attractive than the then active powers of
her voice. But her consummate art never deserted
her, in spite of the fact that her voice became
more and more a wreck. She appeared in public
occasionally till her seventy-second year, when
she retired to Cassel, her birthplace, where she
died in 1833, at the age of eighty.
V.
ANOTHER of Mrs. Billington's most brilliant
rivals and contemporaries was the lovely Giuseppa Grassini, a wayward, indolent, fascinating
beauty, who had taken France and Italy by
storm before she attempted to subdue the more
obdurate and phlegmatic Britons. The daughter
of a small farmer in Lombardy, the charm of her
voice and appearance induced General Belgioso
to pay the cost of her musical training, and at
the age of nineteen she sprang into popularity at
a bound with her de'but at La Scala in 1794. In
spite of the fact that she was associated with two
of the greatest Italian singers of the time-Cres


ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

121

centini, one of the last of the male sopranos, and
Marchesi-she became the cynosure of public admiration. She was surrounded by homage and
flattery sufficient to have turned a more sedate
temperament and wiser head than her own, and
her name became mixed with some of the most
piquant scandals of the period.
In spite of ignorance, indolence, and a caprice
which she never attempted to control, Grassini
was an exquisite artist; and, though dull and
shallow intellectually in all matters apart from her
profession, she was a most beautiful and fascinating woman. She mastered all the graces of her
art, but could never give an intelligent reason for
what she did.    Her voice, originally a soprano,
became under training a contralto of delicious
quality, as well as of great volume and power,
though not remarkable for extent. She excelled
in the cantabile style, and rarely attempted ornament, though what she did was always in perfect taste and proportion. Her dramatic instincts
were remarkable, and as an interpreter of both
heroic and the softer passions she speedily acquired a European reputation. Her figure was
tall and commanding, her head noble, her hair
and eyes of the deepest black, and her whole appearance a singular union of grace and majesty.
After the battle of Marengo, the presence of
the youthful conqueror of Italy at Milan inspired
that capital with a spasm of extraordinary gay


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GREAT SINGERS.

ety. The finest singers in Italy gathered to do
honor to the rising sun of Napoleon's greatness.
The French general was fascinated by the irresistible attractions of the prima donna, and asked
for an introduction. Grassini's coquetry did not
let the occasion slip. Las Cases has given a sketch
of the interview, in which he tells us she reminded Napoleon that she "had made her clbbut precisely during the early achievements of the General of the Army of Italy." " I was then," said
she, " in the full luster of my beauty and talent.
I fascinated every eye and inflamed every heart.
The young general alone was insensible to my
charms, and yet he alone was the object of my
wishes. What caprice-what singularity! When
I possessed some value, when all Italy was at
my feet, and I heroically disdained its admiration for one glance from you, I was unable to
obtain it; and now, how strange an alteration!
You condescend to notice me now when I am not
worth the trouble, and am no longer worthy of
you." Las Cases has not proved himself the most
veracious of chroniclers in more important matters, and we may be permitted to doubt the truth
of this speech as coming from the mouth of a
woman extraordinarily beautiful and not less vain.
But at all events Grassini accompanied the French
general to Paris, ambitious to play the role of
Cleopatra to this modern Caesar.     Josephine's
jealousy and dislike proved an obstacle difficult



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

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to meet, and this, in connection with the fact that
the French opera did not prove suited to her
style, made her first residence in Paris a short
one, in spite of the brilliant success of her concerts. One of these was the crowning feature of
the grand fete given at the Invalides Church in
honor of the battle of Marengo; and as Grassini
sang before the bronzed veterans of the Italian
campaign she seemed inspired. Circumstances,
however, obliged her to leave France, laden with
magnificent presents from Napoleon.
In November, 1801, the Italian prima donna
was in Berlin, where she announced concerts which
seem never to have taken place. In 1802 she returned to France, and Napoleon made her directress of the Opera in 1804. At first Josephine
had permitted her to appear at her private concerts at the Tuileries, but she did not detest the
beautiful singer less cordially than heretofore.
It was whispered that the cantatrice did in reality
seek to attract the attention of Napoleon, and that
she turned her eyes fixedly toward the throne of
the Dictator.
"I hear, madame, that our Grassini is a favorite with the great Napoleon," said Count Sommaglia to Josephine one morning.      "Yes," answered the irate wife of the First Consul, hardly
able to disguise her spite, "the ridiculous vanity
of the creature amuses us amazingly. Since she
has been made directress of the Italian Opera,



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there is more intriguing going on among these
gentry than there is with the diplomats: in the
midst of a serious conversation, she will break out
into a horse-laugh, throw herself on a sofa, and,
fancying herself Semiramis on the throne of Nineveh, burst forth in a great style with ' Son Regiina, e son amata! "' (" I am a queen, and I am beloved! ") " One day," says Fouch6, "Bonaparte
observed that, considering my acknowledged
ability, he was astonished I did not perform my
functions better-that there were several things
of which I 'was ignorant. 'Yes,' replied I, 'there
certainly are things of which I was ignorant, but
which I now know well enough. For instance, a
little man, muffled in a gray cloak, and accompanied by a single servant, often steals out on a
dark evening from a secret door of the Tuileries,
enters a closed carriage, and drives off to Signora
G. This little man is yourself, and yet this
fanciful songstress jilts you continually for Rode
the fiddler.' The Consul answered not a word;
he turned his back, rang, and immediately withdrew."
In 1804 Grassini was engaged to sing in London
alternately with Mrs. Billington. At her first benefit she sang in conjunction with the English cliva
in Winter's new opera, " Il Ratto di Proserpina,"
Billington as Ceres, and Grassini as Proserpjina.
The respective voices of the two singers were admirably fitted for the music of the rdles, each ex


ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

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quisite of its sort and inspired by the ambition of
rivalry. The deep tones of the one combined with
the bird-like notes of the other to produce a most
thrilling effect. Lord Mount Edgcumbe, who had
a prejudice for bravura singing, said: " No doubt
the deaf would have been charmed with Grassini,
but the blind must have been delighted with Mrs.
Billington": a malicious comment on the Italian
singer, which this distinguished amateur, when in
a less cynical mood, revoked by cordial admiration of Grassini's remarkable gifts both as vocalist
and actress. Many interesting anecdotes are told
of this singer while in London, one of which, related by Kelly, then stage-manager, illustrates
the difficulties of operatic management. Mrs.
Billington was too sick to sing on one of her own
nights, and Grassini was implored to take her
place. But she obstinately refused to make the
change, until the cunning Irishman resorted to a
trick. He called on her in the morning, and began talking carelessly on the subject. " My dear
Grassini," said he, in an off-hand way, "as manager I ought to prevail upon you to perform;
but as a performer myself, I enter entirely into
your feelings, and think you perfectly right not
to sing out of your turn. The Saturday is yours;
but what I say to you I trust you will not repeat
to Mr. Goold, as it might be of serious injury to
me."   "Depend upon it, my dear Kelly," answered Grassini, "I will not; I look upon you,



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GREAT SINGERS.

by what you have just said, to be my sincere
friend." As he was leaving the room, he turned,
as with a sudden thought. "To be sure, it is
rather unlucky you do not sing to-night, for this
morning a message came from the Lord Chamberlain's office to announce the Queen's intention
to come incognita, accompanied by the princesses,
purposely to see you perform; and a large grillBe
is actually ordered to be prepared for them, where
they can perfectly see and hear without being
seen by the audience; but I'll step myself to the
Lord Chamberlain's office, say that you are confined to your bed, and express your mortification
at disappointing the royal party." " Stop, Kelly,"
cried the cantatrice, all in a flutter; "what you
now say alters the case. If her Majesty Queen
Charlotte wishes to see 'La Vergine del Sole,'
and to hear me, I am bound to obey her Majesty's
commands. Go to Goold and say I will sing."
"When I went into her dressing-room after the
first act," says Kelly, "her Majesty not having
arrived, Grassini, suspicious that I had made up a
trick to cajole hei-, taxed me with it; and when I
confessed, she took it good-naturedly and laughed
at her own credulity." The popularity of Grassini in London remained unabated during several
seasons; and when she reengaged for the French
opera, in 1808, it was to the great regret of musical London. Talma was a warm admirer of her
dramatic genius, and he used to say that no other



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

127

actress, not even Mars, Darval, or Duchesnois,
possessed so expiessive and mutable a face. The
Grecian outline of her face, her beautiful forehead, rich black hair and eyebrows, superb dark
eyes, "now flashing with tragedy's fiery passions, then softly languishing with love," and
finally "that astonishing ensemble of perfections
which Nature had collected in her as if to review
all her gifts in one woman-all these qualities together exercised on the spectator such a charm
as none could resist. Pasta herself might have
looked on and learned, when Grassini had to portray either indignation, grief, anger, or despair."
Her performance in "Romeo e Giulietta"
was so fine that Napoleon sprang to his feet, forgetting his marble coldness, and shouted like a
school-boy, while Talma's eyes streamed with
tears; for, as the latter afterward confessed, he
had never before been so deeply touched. Napoleon sent her a check for twenty thousand francs
as a testimonial of his admiration, and to Crescentini he sent the order of the Iron Cross.
Many years after, in St. Helena, the dethroned
Caesar alluded to this as an illustration of his
policy. "In conformity with my system," observed he, "of amalgamating all kinds of merit,
and of rendering one and the same reward universal, I had an idea of presenting the Cross of
the Legion of Honor to Talma; but I refrained
from doing this, in consideration of our capricious



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manners and absurd prejudices. I wished to
make a first experiment in an affair that was out
of date and unimportant, and I accordingly gave
the Iron Crown to Crescentini. The decoration
was foreign, and so was the individual on whom
it was conferred. This circumstance was less likely to attract public notice or to render my conduct the subject of discussion; at worst, it could
only give rise to a few malicious jokes. Such,"
continued the Emperor, " is the influence of public opinion. I distributed scepters at will, and
thousands readily bowed beneath their sway;
and yet I could not give away a ribbon without
the chance of incurring disapprobation, for I believe my experiment with regard to Crescentini
proved unsuccessful." " It did, sire," observed
some one present. " The circumstance occasioned
a great outcry in Paris; it drew forth a general
anathema in all the drawing-rooms of the metropolis, and afforded full scope for the expression of
malignant feeling. However, at one of the evening parties of the Faubourg St. Germain, a bon
mot had the effect of completely stemming the current of indignation. A pompous orator was holding forth in an eloquent strain on the subject of
the honor that had been conferred on Crescentini.
He declared it to be a disgrace, a horror, a perfect
profanation, and inquired by what right Crescentini was entitled to such a distinction. Mme.
Grassini, who was present, rose majestically from



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her chair, with a theatrical tone and gesture
exclaiming, ' Et sa blessure, monsieur? ' Thisproduced a general burst of laughter, amid which Grassini sat down, embarrassed by her own success."
Mme. Grassini remained on the stage till about
1823, when, having lost the beauty of her voice,
she retired to private life with a comfortable fortune, spending her last years in Paris. She died
in 1850, in her eighty-fifth year, preserving her
beauty and freshness in a marvelous degree. The
effect of Grassini's singing on people of refined
taste was even greater than the impression made
on regular musicians. Thomas De Quincey speaks
of her in his " Autobiographical Sketches " as
having a voice delightful beyond all that he had
ever heard.   Sir Charles Bell thought it was
"only Grassini who conveyed the idea of the united power of music and action. She did not act
only without being ridiculous, but with an effect
equal to Mrs. Siddons. The 'O     Dio' of Mrs.
Billington was a bar of music, but in the strange,
almost unnatural voice of Grassini, it went to the
soul."  Elsewhere he speaks of "'her dignity,
truth, and affecting simplicity."
VI.
ABOUT the time of Mara's departure from
England Mrs. Billington was wonderfully popular.
No fashionable concert was complete without her,
and the constant demand for her services enabled



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her to fix her own price. Her income averaged
fifteen thousand pounds a year, and at one time
she was reckoned as worth nearly one hundred
thousand pounds.    She spent her large means
with a judicious liberality, and the greatest people
in the land were glad to be her guests. She settled a liberal annuity on her father. Having no
children, she adopted two, one the daughter of an
old friend named Madocks, who afterward became
her principal legatee. Her hospitality crowded
her house with the most brilliant men in art, literature, and politics; and it was said that the
stranger who would see all the great people of
the London world brought together should get a
card to one of Billington's receptions. Her affability and kindness sometimes got her into scrapes.
An eminent barrister who was at her house one
night gave her some advice on a legal matter, and
sent in a bill for services amounting to three hundred pounds. Mrs. Billington paid it promptly,
but the lawyer ceased to be her guest. As a
hostess she was said to have been irresistibly
charming, alike from her personal beauty and the
witchery of her manners.
Her kindness and good nature in dealing with
her sister artists were proverbial. When Grassini,
who at first was unpopular in England, was in
despair as to how she should make an impression,
Mrs. Billington proposed to sing with her in
Winter's opera of "'I Ratto di Proserpina," from



ELIZABETH BILLINGTON.

131

which time dated the success of the Italian singer.
Toward Mara she had exerted similar good will,
ignoring all professional jealousies. Miss Parke,
a concert-singer, was once angry because Billington's name was in bigger type. The latter ordered
her name to be printed in the smallest letters
used; " and much Miss Parke gained by her corpulent type," says the narrator.   Lord Mount
Edgcumbe tells us that the operas in which she
specially excelled were " La Clemenza di Scipione,"
composed for her by-John Christian Bach; Paesiello's "Elfrida"; " Armida," " Castore e Polluce," and others by Winter; and Mozart's " Clemenza di Tito." For her farewell benefit, when
she quitted the stage, March 30, 1806, she selected
the last-named opera, which had never been given
in England, and existed only in manuscript form.
The Prince of Wales had the only copy, and she
played through the whole score on the pianoforte
at rehearsal, to give the orchestra an idea of the
music.   The final performance was immensely
successful, and the departing diva sang so splendidly as to prove that it was not on account of
failing powers that she withdrew from professional life. It is true that Mrs. Billington continued to appear frequently in concert for three
years longer, but her dramatic career was ended.
A curious instance of woman's infatuation was
Mrs. Billington's longing to be reunited to her
brutal husband; and so in 1817 she invited him
12



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GREAT SINGERS.

to join her in England. Felican was too glad to
gain fresh control over the victim of his conjugal
tyranny, and persuaded her to leave England for
a permanent residence in Italy.      Mrs. Billington
realized all her property, and with her jewels and
plate, of which she possessed a great quantity,
departed for the land of song, taking with her
Miss Madocks.     She paid a bitter penalty for her
revived tenderness toward Felican, for the ruffian
subjected her to such treatment that she died
from the effects of it, August 25, 1818. In such
an ignoble fashion one of the most brilliant and
beautiful women in the history of song departed
from this life.
ANGELICA CATALANI.
The Girlhood of Catalani.-She makes her Dibut in Florence.Description of her Marvelous Vocalism.-The Romance of Love
and Marriage.-Her Preference for the Concert Stage.-She
meets Napoleon in Paris.-Her Escape from France and Appearance in London.-Opinions of Lord Mount Edgcumbe and
other Critics.-Anecdotes of herself and Husband.-The Great
Prima Donna's Character.-Her Gradual Divergence from Good
Taste in singing.-Bon tots of the Wits of the Day.-The
Opera-house Riot.-Her Husband's Avarice.-Grand Concert
Tour through Europe.-She meets Goethe.-Her Return to
England and Brilliant Reception.-She sings with the Tenor
Braham.-John Braham's Artistic Career.-The Davides.-Catalani's Last English Appearance, and the Opinions of Critics.
-Her Retirement and Death.
ABOUT the year 1790 the convent of Santa
Lucia at Gubbio, in the duchy of Urbino, was the



ANGELICA CATALANI.

133

subject of a queer kind of scandal. Complaint
was made to the bishop that one of the novices
sang with such extraordinary brilliancy and beauty
of voice that throngs gathered to the chapel from
miles around, and that the religious services were
transformed into a sort of theatrical entertainment,
so entranced were all hearers by the charm of the
singing, and so forgetful of the religious purport
of these occasions in the fascination of the music.
His Reverence ordered the lady abbess to abate
the scandal; so the young Angelica Catalani was
no longer permitted to sing alone, but only in concert with the other novices. Her voice at the age
of twelve, when she began to sing, already possessed a volume, compass, and sweetness which
made her a phenomenon. The young girl, who
had been destined for conventual life, studied so
hard that she became ill, and her father, a magistrate of Sinigaglia, was obliged to take her home.
Signor Catalani was a man of bigoted piety, and
it was with great difficulty that he could be induced to forego the plan which he had arranged
for Angelica's future. The idea of her going on
the stage was repulsive to him, and only his straitened circumstances wrung from him a reluctant
consent that she should abandon the thought of
the convent and become a singer. From a teacher and composer of some reputation the young
girl received preliminary instruction for two years,
and from the hands of this master passed into



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those of the celebrated Marchesi, who had succeeded Porpora as chief of the teaching maestri.
This virtuoso had himself been a distinguished
singer, and his finishing lessons placed Angelica
in a position to rank with the most brilliant vocalists of the age. It was somewhat unfortunate that
she did not learn under Marchesi, who taught her
when her voice was in the most plastic condition,
to control that profuse luxuriance of vocalization
which was alike the greatest glory and greatest
defect in her art.
While studying, Angelica went to hear a celebrated cantatrice of the day, and wept at the
vanishing strains. "Alas! " she said with sorrowing naivete. "I shall never be able to sing
like that."  The kind prima donna heard the lamentation and asked her to sing; whereupon she
said, "Be reassured, my child; in a few years you
will surpass me, and I shall weep at your superiority." At the age of sixteen she succeeded in
getting an engagement at La Fenice in Venice
to sing in Mayer's opera of "Lodoiska" during
the Carnival season. Carus, the director, accepted
her in despair at the very last moment on account
of the sudden death of his prima donna. What
were his surprise and delight in finding that the
debutante was the loveliest who had come forward
for years, and the possessor of an almost unparalleled voice. Of tall and majestic presence, a
dazzling complexion, large beautiful blue eyes,



ANGELICA CATALANI.

135

and features of ideal symmetry, she was one to
entrance the eye as well as the ear. Her face was
so flexible as to express each shade of feeling from
grave to gay with equal facility; and indeed all the
personal characteristics of this extraordinary woman were such as Nature could only have bestowed
in her most lavish mood. Her voice was a soprano
of the purest quality, embracing a compass of
nearly three octaves, from G to F, and so powerful that no band could overwhelm its tones, which
thrilled through every fiber of the hearer. Full,
rich, and magnificent beyond any other voice ever
heard, " it bore no resemblance," said one writer,
" to any instrument, except we could imagine the
tone of musical glasses to be magnified in volume
to the same gradation of power." She could ascend at will-though she was ignorant of the rules
of art-from the smallest perceptible sound to the
loudest and most magnificent crescendo, exactly
as she pleased. One of her favorite caprices of
ornament was to imitate the swell and fall of a
bell, making her tones sweep through the air with
the most delicious undulation, and, using her voice
at pleasure, she would shower her graces in an absolutely wasteful profusion. Her greatest defect
was that, while the ear was bewildered with the
beauty and tremendous power of her voice, the
feelings were untouched: she never touched the
heart. She could not, like Mara, thrill, nor, like
Billington, captivate her hearers by a birdlike soft


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ness and brilliancy; she simply astonished. " She
was a florid singer, and nothing but a florid singer, whether grave or airy, in the church, orchestra, or upon the stage."  With a prodigious volume and richness of tone, and a marvelous rapidity of vocalization, she could execute brilliantly
the most florid notation, leaving her audience in
breathless amazement; but her intonation was
very uncertain. However, this did not trouble
her much.
In the season of 1798 she sang at Leghorn
with Crivelli, Marchesi, and Mrs. Billington, and
thence she made a triumphal tour through Italy.
From   the first she had met with an unequaled
success. Her full, powerful, clear tones, her delivery so pure and true, her instinctive execution
of the most difficult music, carried all before her.
Without much art or method, that superb voice,
capable by nature of all the things which the
most of even gifted singers are obliged to learn
by hard work and long experience, was sufficient
for the most daring feats. The Prince Regent of
Portugal, attracted by her fame, engaged her,
with Crescentini and Mme. Gafforini, for the Italian opera at Lisbon, where she arrived in the year
1804.
The romance of Catalani's life connects itself,
not with those escapades which furnish the most
piquant tidbits for the gossip-monger, but with
her marriage, which occurred at Lisbon. Through


ANGELICA CATALANI.

137

out her long career no breath of scandal touched
the character of this extraordinary artist. Her
private and domestic life was as exemplary as her
public career was dazzling. One night, as Angelica was singing on the stage, her eyes met those
of a handsome man in full French uniform, and
especially distinguished by the diamond aigrette
in his cap, who sat in full sight in one of the
boxes. When she went off the stage she found
the military stranger in the greenroom, waiting
for an introduction. This was M. de Vallebregue,
captain in the Eighth Hussars and attache of the
French embassy, who in after years received his
highest recognition of distinction as the husband
of the chief of living singers. They were both in
the full flush of youth and beauty, and they fell
passionately in love with each other at first sight.
When the lover asked Signor Catalani's consent,
the latter frowned on the scheme, for the golden
harvest was too rich to be yielded up lightly for
the asking. He coldly refused, and bade the
suitor think of his love as hopeless, though he
found no objection to M. Vallebregue personally.
Poor Angelica was thoroughly wretched, and day
after day pined for her young soldier-lover, who
had been forbidden the house by the father. For
several days she was in such dejection that she
could not sing, and the romance became the talk
of Lisbon. One day an anonymous letter was received by Papa Catalani charging M. Vallebrbgue



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with being a proscribed man, who had committed
some mysterious crime vaguely hinted at. Armed
with this, her father sought to reason Angelica
out of her passion; but she clung to her lover
with more eagerness, and was rewarded, to her
great joy, by learning that the crime was only
having fought a duel with and severely wounded
his superior officer-an offense against discipline,
which had been punished by temporary relief
from military duty and a pleasant exile to Lisbon.
The young beauty wept, sighed, pouted, and could
be persuaded to sing only with much difficulty.
All day long she said with deep mournfulness,
"M3a che bel uffizicde," and pined with genuine
heart-sickness. At last Vallebrkgue smuggled a
letter to his discouraged mistress, in which he said
in ardent words that no one had a right to separate them, and urged her to lend all her energies
to her professional work, so that, being a favorite
at court, she might induce the Prince to intercede
in the matter. Angelica tried in vain to get an
interview with the Prince, and found that he was
at his country villa twenty miles away. Her accustomed energy was equal to the difficulty. Calling a coach, she drove out to the royal villa.
Trembling with emotion and fatigue, she threw
herself at the feet of the good-natured Prince,
whom she found in the garden, and told her story
as soon as her timidity could find words. He
could hardly resist the temptation to badinage



ANGELICA CATALANI.

139

which the lively Angelica had hitherto been so
ready to meet with brilliant repartee, but the
anxious girl could only weep and plead. It was
such a genuine love romance that the Prince's
heart was touched, and, after some argument and
advice to return to her father, he yielded and
gave his sanction to the match. He accompanied
the now radiant Angelica back to Lisbon, and in
an hour's time a ceremony in the court chapel
made her Madame de Vallebrigue, in presence of
General Lannes, the French envoy, and himself.
Signor Catalani was enraged at the turn which
things had taken, but he could only acquiesce in
the inevitable, especially as his daughter and her
husband settled on him a country estate in Italy
and a comfortable annuity for life.
Mme. Catalani returned to Italy with a reputation which made her name the first in everybody's mouth. Yet at this time her appearance
on the dramatic stage always occasioned a feeling
of pain. Her excessive timidity and nervousness
made her action spasmodic, and deprived her of
that easy dignity which must be united with passion and sentiment to produce a good artistic personation. It was in concert that her grand voice
at this period shone at its best. Her intimate
friends were wont to say that it was as disagreeable and agitating for her to sing in opera, as it
was delightful in the concert-room; for here she
poured forth her notes with such a genuine ecstasy



140

GREAT SINGERS.

in her own performance as that which seems to
thrill the skylark or the nightingale. Though the
circumstances of her marriage were of such a romantic kind, and she seems to have been deeply
attached to her husband through life, M. Vallebregue appears to have been a stupid, ignorant
soldier, and, as is common with those who make
similar matrimonial speculations, to have had no
eyes beyond helping his talented wife to make all
the money possible and spend it with the utmost
freedom afterward. Mme. Catalani made a brief
visit to Paris in the spring of 1806, sang twice at
St. Cloud, and gave three public concerts, each of
which produced twenty-four thousand francs, the
price being doubled for these occasions.
Napoleon was always anxious to make Paris
the center of European art, and to assemble
within its borders all the attractions of the civilized world. He spared no temptation to induce
the Italian cantatrice to remain. When she attended his commands at the Tuileries she trembled like a leaf before the stern tyrant, under
whose gracious demeanor she detected the workings of an unbending purpose. " Oi allez vous,
madame? " said he, smilingly.   "To London,
sire," was the reply. "Remain in Paris. I will
pay you well, and your talents will be appreciated.
You shall receive a hundred thousand francs per
annum, and two months for conge. So that is
settled. Adieu, madame." Such was the brusque



ANGELICA CATALANI.

141

and imperious interview, which seemed to fix the
fate of the artist. But Mme. Catalani, anxious to
get to London, to which she looked as a rich harvest-field, and regarding the grim Napoleon as
the foe of the legitimate King, was determined
not to stay. "When at Paris I was denied a
passport," she afterward said; " however, I got
introduced to Talleyrand, and, by the aid of a
handful of gold, I was put into a government
boat, and ordered to lie down to avoid being shot;
and wonderful to relate, I got over in safety, with
my little boy seven months old."
II.
CATALANI had already signed a contract with
Goold and Taylor, the managers of the King's
Theatre, Haymarket, at a salary of two thousand
pounds a month and her expenses, besides various
other emoluments. At the time of her arrival
there was no competitor for the public favor,
Grassini and Mrs. Billington having both retired
from the stage a short time previously. Lord
Mount Edgcumbe tells us   "The great and farfamed Catalani supplied the place of both, and
for many years reigned alone; for she would bear
no rival, nor any singer sufficiently good to divide
the applause. It is well known," he says, "that
her voice is of a most uncommon quality; and
capable of bearing exertions almost superhuman.
Her throat seems endowed (as is remarked by



142

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medical men) with a power of expansion and
muscular motion by no means usual; and when
she throws out all her voice to the utmost, it has
a volume and strength quite surprising; while its
agility in divisions running up and down the scale
in semi-tones, and its compass in jumping over
two octaves at once, are equally astonishing. It
were to be wished that she was less lavish in the
display of these wonderful powers, and sought to
please more than to surprise; but her taste is vicious, her excessive love of ornament spoiling
every simple air, and her greatest delight being
in songs of a bold and spirited character, where
much is left to her discretion or indiscretion,
without being confined by the accompaniment,
but in which she can indulge in ad libitum  passages with a luxuriance and redundance no other
singer ever possessed, or if possessing ever practiced, and which she carries to a fantastical excess,"
Her London d0ut was on the 15th of December, 1806, in Portogallo's opera of " La Semiramide," composed for the occasion. The music
of this work was of the most ephemeral nature,
but Catalani's magnificent singing and acting
gave it a heroic dignity. She lavished all the
resources of her art on it. In one passage she
dropped a double octave, and finally sealed her
reputation "by running up and down the chromatic scale for the first time in the recollection



ANGELICA CATALANI.

143

of opera-goers.... It was then new, although
it has since been repeated to satiety, and even
noted down as an obbligato division by Rossini,
Meyerbeer, and others. Rounds of applause rewarded this daring exhibition of bad taste." She
had one peculiar effect, which it is said has never
been equaled. This was an undulating tone like
that of a musical glass, the vibrating note being
higher than the highest note on the pianoforte.
" She appeared to make a sort of preparation previous to its utterance, and never approached it by
the regular scale. It began with an inconceivably
fine tone, which gradually swelled both in volume
and power, till it made the ears vibrate and the
heart thrill. It particularly resembled the highest
note of the nightingale, that is reiterated each
time more intensely, and which with a sort of
ventriloquism seems scarcely to proceed from the
same bird that a moment before poured his delicate warblings at an interval so disjointed."
There are many racy anecdotes related of
Catalani's London career, to which the stupid,
avaricious, but good-natured character of M.
Vallebrigue lent much of their flavor. Speaking
of Mrs. Salmon's singing, he said with vehemence,
" Mrs. Salmon, sare, she is as that," extending
the little finger of his left hand and placing his
thumb at the root of it; "but m92      femme!
Voild! she is that "-stretching out his whole
arm at full length and touching the shoulder13



144

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joint with the other. His stupidity extended to
an utter ignorance of music, which he only prized
as the means of gaining the large sums which his
extravagance craved. His wife once complained
of the piano, saying, "I can not possibly sing to
that piano; I shall crack my voice: the piano
is absurdly high."  "Do not fret, my dear," interposed the husband, soothingly; "it shall be
lowered before evening: I will attend to it myself." Evening came, and the house was crowded; but, to the consternation of the cantatrice,
the pianoforte was as high as ever. She sang,
but the strain was excessive and painful; and
she went behind the scenes in a very bad humor.
" Really, my dear," said her lord, " I can not conceive of the piano being too high; I had the carpenter in with his saw, and made him take six
inches off each leg in my presence! "
When she made her engagement for the second season, M. Vallebregue demanded such exorbitant terms that the manager tore his hair
with vexation, saying that such a salary to one
singer would actually disable him from employing any other artists of talent. "Talent! " repeated the husband; "have you not Mnie. Catalani? What would you have? If you want an
opera company, my wife with four or five puppets
is quite sufficient."  So, during the season of
1808, Catalani actually was the whole company,
the other performers being literally puppets. She



ANGELICA CATALANI.

145

appeared chiefly in operas composed expressly for
her, in which the part for the prima donna was
carefully adapted to the display of her various
powers. In "Semiramide " particularly she made
an extraordinary impression, as it afforded room
for the finest tragic action; and the music, trivial
as it was, gave full scope for the extraordinary
perfection of her voice.   She also appeared in
comic operas, and in Paesiello's "La Frascatana"
particularly delighted the public by the graceful
lightness and gayety of her comedy. But in
them as in tragedies she stood alone and furnished the sole attraction. Her astonishing dexterity seemed rather the result of the natural aptitude of genius than of study and labor, and her
most brilliant ornaments more the fanciful improvisations of the moment than the roulades of
the composer. Of her elocution in singing it is
said: "She was articulate, forcible, and powerful; occasionally light, pleasing, and playful, but
never awfully grand or tenderly touching to the
degree that the art may be carried."   Her marvelous strains seemed to distant auditors poured
forth with the fluent ease of a bird; but those
who were near saw that her efforts were so great
as to " call into full and violent action the muscular powers of the head, throat, and chest." In
the execution of rapid passages the under jaw
was in a continual state of agitation, " in a manner, too, generally thought incompatible with the



146

GREAT SINGERS.

production of pure tone from the chest, and inconsistent with a legitimate execution. This extreme motion was also visible during the shake,
which Catalani used sparingly, however, and with
little effect."
In spite of the reputation for rapacity which
the avarice and arrogance of her husband helped
to create, Catalani won golden opinions by her
sweet temper, liberality, and benevolence.  Her
purse-strings were always opened to relieve want
or encourage struggling merit. Her gayety and
light-heartedness were proverbial. It is recorded
that at Bangor once she heard for the first time
the strains of a Welsh harp, the player being a
poor blind itinerant. The music sounding in the
kitchen of the inn filled the world - renowned
singer with an almost infantile glee, and, rushing
in among the pots and pans, she danced as madly
as if she had been bitten by the tarantula, till, all
panting and breathless, she threw the harper two
guineas, and said she had never heard anything
which gave her more delight. The claims on her
purse kept pace with the enormous gains which
seemed to increase from year to year. To her
large charities and her extravagant habits of
living, her husband added the heavy losses to
which his passion for the gaming table led him.
It was said in after years that Mme. Catalani
should have been worth not less than half a million sterling, so immense had been her gains.



ANGELICA CATALANI.

147

Mr. Waters, in a pamphlet published in 1807,
says that her receipts from all sources for that
year had been nearly seventeen thousand pounds.
She frequently was paid two hundred pounds for
singing "Rule Britannia," a song in which she
became celebrated; and one thousand pounds
was the usual honorariumn given for her services
at a festival.
Mme. Catalani, in addition to her operatic
performances, frequently sang at the Ancient
Concerts and in oratorio; but she lacked the
devotional pathos and tenderness which had given
Mara and Mrs. Billington their power in sacred
music. Yet she possessed strong religious sentiments, and always prayed before entering a theatre. Her somewhat ostentatious piety provoked
the following scandalous anecdote: She was observed reading a prayer from her missal prior to
going before the audience one night, and some
one, taking the book from the attendant, found it
to be a copy of Metastasio. This story is probably apocryphal, however, like many of the most
amusing incidents related of artists and authors.
Certain it is that Catalani never shone in oratorio,
or even in the rendering of dramatic pathos; but
in bold and brilliant music the world has probably
never seen her peer. To some the immense volume of her voice was not pleasant. Queen Charlotte criticised it by wishing for a little cotton to
put in her ears. Some wit, being asked if he



148

GREAT SINGERS.

would go to York to hear her, replied he could
hear better where he was. "Whenever I hear
such an outrageous display of execution," said
Lord Mount Edgcumbe, in his " Musical Reminiscences," "I never fail to recollect and cordially
join in the opinion of a late noble statesman,
more famous for his wit than for his love of music, who, hearing a remark on the extreme difficulty of some performance, observed that he
wished it was impossible." It was this same nobleman, Lord North, who perpetrated the following mot: Being asked why he did not subscribe
to the Ancient Concerts, and reminded that his
brother, the Bishop of Winchester, had done so,
he said, " Oh, if I was as deaf as the good Bishop,
I would subscribe too."
During the period of her operatic career in
England, Catalani illustrated the works of a wide
variety of composers, both serious and comic;
for her dramatic talents were equal to both, and
there was no music which she did not master as
if by inspiration, though she was such a bad
reader that to learn a part perfectly she was
obliged to hear it played on the piano. It was
with great unwillingness that she essayed the
music of Mozart, however, who had just become
a great favorite in England. The strict time,
the severe form, and the importance of the accompaniments were not suited to her splendid
and luxuriant style, which disdained all trammels



ANGELICA CATALANL4I.

149

and rules. Yet she was the first singer who introduced " Le Nozze di Figaro " to the English
stage. Besides Susanna in " Le Nozze," she appeared as Vitellia in " La Clemenza di Tito," a
serious rdle; and both in acting and singing
these interpretations were praised by the most
intelligent connoisseurs-who had previously attacked the vicious redundancy of her style severely-as nearly matchless. Arch and piquant as the
waiting-woman, lofty, impassioned, and haughty
as the patrician dame of old Rome, she rendered
each as if her sole talent were in the one direction.
Tremmazani, a delightful tenor, who had just
arrived in England, and possessed a voice of that
rich, touching Cremona tone so rare even in Italy,
it may be remarked in passing, refused the part
of Count Almaviva as lacking sufficient importance, and because he regarded it as beneath his
dignity to appear in comic opera.
IlI.
THE year 1813 was the last season of Catalani's
regular engagement on the operatic stage. She
continued to sing in "Tito" and " Figaro," but
her principal pleasure was in the most extravagant and bizarre show-pieces, such, for example, as
variations composed for the violin on popular airs
like " God save the King," "Rule Britannia,"
" Cease your Funning." She carried her departure from the true limits of art to such an outra


150

GREAT SINGERS.

geous degree as to draw on her head the severest
reprobation of all good judges, though the public
listened to her wonderful execution with unbounded delight and astonishment. Toward the latter
part of the season an extraordinary riot took place
in consequence of Catalani's failure to appear two
successive evenings. The managers were in arrears, and the diva by the advice of her husband
adopted this plan to force payment. There were
mutterings of the thunder on the first non-appearance; but when on the following night Catalani
was still absent, the storm broke. The opera
which had been substituted was half finished when
the clamor drowned all the artistic noise behind
the footlights. A military guard who had been
called in to protect the stage from invasion were
overpowered by a throng of gentlemen who leaped
on from the auditorium, many of them men of
high rank, and the guns and bayonets wrested from
the soldiers' hands. Bloodshed seemed imminent;
and had it not been for the moderation of the
soldiers, who permitted themselves to be disarmed
rather than fire, the result would have been very
serious. The chandeliers and mirrors were all
broken into a thousand pieces, and the musical instruments hurled around in the wildest confusion.
Fiddles, flutes, horns, drums, swords, bayonets,
muskets, operatic costumes, and stage properties
generally were hurled in a heap on the stage.
The gentlemen Mohocks, who signalized them


ANGELICA CATALANI.

151

selves on this occasion, did damage to the amount
of nearly one thousand pounds, though it is said
they made it up to the manager afterward by
subscription. The theatre was closed for a week;
and when it reopened, so great was the magnificent Italian's power over the audience that, though
they came prepared to condemn, they received
her with the loudest demonstration of applause.
But still such conduct toward audiences, if followed
up, could not but beget dissatisfaction and wrangling, and the growing impatience of her managers
as well as the more judicious public could not be
mistaken.
In spite of the fact that several brilliant singers were in England, and of the desire of the public that the splendid talents of Catalani should be
appropriately supported, her jealousy and her exorbitant claims prevented such a desirable combination. She offered to buy the theatre and thus
become sole proprietor, sole manager, and sole
performer; but, of course, the proposition was
refused, luckily for the enraged cantatrice, who
would certainly have paid dearly for her experiment.
Catalani on closing her English engagement
proceeded to Paris. She had been known as an
ardent friend of the Bourbon exiles, and so, during the occupation of Paris by the Allies in 1814,
she found herself in great favor. After the Hundred Days had passed and the royal house seemed



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to be firmly seated, she received a government
subvention of one hundred and sixty thousand
francs and the privilege of the Opera. Catalani's
passion for absorbing everything within the radius
of her own vanity and her jealousy of rivals operated against her success in Paris, as they had injured her in London; and she was obliged to
yield up her privilege in the course of three years,
with the additional loss of five hundred thousand
francs of her own private fortune, and the loss
of good will on the part of the Paris public.
Her grand concert tour through Europe,
undertaken with the purpose of repairing her
losses, was one of the most interesting portions
of her life. Everywhere she was received with
abounding enthusiasm, and the concerts were so
thronged that there was rarely ever standing-room.
She sang in nearly every important city on the
Continent, was the object of the most flattering
attention everywhere, and was loaded down with
the costliest presents, jewels, medals, and testimonials, everywhere. Sovereigns vied with each
other in showing their admiration by gorgeous
offerings, and her arrival in a city was looked on
as a gala-day. In the midst, however, of these
the most trying circumstances in which a beautiful and captivating woman could be placed, surrounded by temptation and flattery, her course
was marked by undeviating propriety, and not the
faintest breath tarnished her fair fame. Such an



ANGELICA CATALANI.

153

idol of popular admiration would be sure to exhibit an overweening vanity.   When in Hamburg in 1819, M. Schevenke, a great musician,
criticised her vocal feats with severity.  Mme.
Catalani shrugged her beautiful shoulders and
called him "an impious man."  "For," said she,
" when God has given to a mortal so extraordinary
a talent as I possess, people ought to applaud and
honor it as a miracle; it is profane to depreciate the gifts of Heaven."
It was during this tour that she met the poet
Goethe at the court of Weimar, where she was
made an honored guest, as she had been treated
everywhere in royal and princely circles. At a
court dinner-party where she was present, the
great German poet was as usual the cynosure of
the company. His imperial and splendid presence
and world-wide fame marked him out from all
others. Catalani was struck by the appearance of
this modern Olympian god, and asked who he
was. To a mind innocent of all culture except such
as touched her art merely, the name "Goethe"
conveyed but little significance. "Pray, on what
instrument does he play? " ' He is no performer,
madame-he is the renowned author of 'Werter.'"
" Oh yes, yes, I remember," she said; then turning to the venerable poet, she addressed him in
her vivacious manner. "Ah! sir, what an admirer
I am of 'Werter! '" Flattered by her evident sincerity and ardor, the poet bowed profoundly. "I



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never," continued she, in the same lively strain, "I
never read anything half so laughable in all my
life. What a capital farce it is, sir! " The poet,
astounded, could scarcely believe the evidence of
his ears. "' The Sorrows of Werter' a farce!"
he murmured faintly. "Oh yes, never was anything so exquisitely ridiculous," rejoined Catalani,
with a ringing burst of laughter. It turned out
that she had been talking all the while of a ridiculous parody of "Werter " which had been performed at one of the vaudeville theatres of Paris,
in which the sentimentality of Goethe's tale had
been most savagely ridiculed.    We can fancy
what Goethe's mortification was, and how the fair
diva's credit was impaired at the court of Weimar by her ignorance of the illustrious poet and
of the novel whose fame had rung through all
Europe.
Mme. Catalani returned to England in 1821,
and found herself the subject of an enthusiasm
little less than that which had greeted her in her
earlier prime. Her concert tour extended through
all the cities of the British kingdom. In this tour
she was supported by the great tenor Braham, as
remarkable a singer in some respects as Catalani
herself, and probably the most finished artist of
English birth who ever ornamented the lyric stage.
Braham had been brilliantly associated with the
lyric triumphs of Mara, Billington, and Grassini,
and had been welcomed in Italy itself as one of the



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finest singers in the world. When Catalani's dramatic career in England commenced Braham had
supported her, though her jealousy soon rid her
of so brilliant a competitor for the public plaudits.
Braham's part in Catalani's English concert tour
was a very important one, and some cynical wags
professed to believe that as many went to hear
the great tenor as to listen to Catalani.
The electrical effect of her singing was very
well shown at one of these concerts. She introduced a song, " Della Superba Roma," declamatory
in its nature, written for her by Marquis Sampieri.
The younger Linley, brother-in-law of Sheridan,
who was playing in the orchestra, was so moved
that he forgot his own part, and on receiving a
severe whispered rebuke from the singer fainted
away in his place. Mme. Catalani returned again
on finishing her English engagement to Russia,
where she realized fifteen thousand guineas in four
months. Concert-rooms were too small to hold
her audiences, and she was obliged to use the
great hall of the Public Exchange, which would
hold more than four thousand people. At her last
concert the Emperor and Empress loaded her with
costly gifts, among them being a girdle of magnificent diamonds.
IV.
THE career of John Braham must always be of
interest to those who love the traditions of Eng14



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GREAT SINGERS.

lish music. The associate and contemporary of a
host of distinguished singers, and himself not
least, his connection with the musical life of Catalani would seem to make some brief sketch of the
greatest of English tenor-singers singularly fitting
in this place. He was born in London in 1773, of
Jewish parentage, his real name being Abrams,
and was so wretchedly poor that he sold pencils
on the street to get a scanty living. Leoni, an
Italian teacher of repute, discovered by accident
that he had a fine voice, and took the friendless
lad under his tutelage. He appeared at the age
of thirteen at the Covent Garden Theatre, the
song "The Soldier tired of War's Alarms " being
the first he sang in public. One of the papers
spoke of him as a youthful prodigy, saying, "He
promises fair to attain every perfection, possessing
every requisite necessary to form a good singer."
Braham at one time lost his voice utterly, and his
prospect seemed a gloomy one, as his master Leoni
also died about the same time. He now found a
generous patron in Abraham Goldsmith, however,
and became a professor of the piano, for which
instrument he developed remarkable talent.
An Italian master named Rauzzini seems to
have been of great service to Braham when he
was about twenty years of age, and under him he
fitted himself for the Italian stage, and secured an
opening under Storace, father of the brilliant
Nancy Storace, at Drury Lane. His success was



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so marked that the following season found him
reingaged and his professional life well opened to
him. Braham's ambition, however, would not permit him to rest on his laurels, or rest contented
with the artistic fitness already acquired. He determined to find in Italy that finishing culture
which then as now made that country the Mecca
of artists anxious to perfect their education. He
visited Florence, Genoa, Milan, Naples, and Rome,
studying under the most famous masters. Not
content with his training in executive music, Braham studied composition and counterpoint under
Isola, and laid the foundation for the knowledge
which afterward gave him a place among notable
English composers as well as singers.
While in England Braham had shown proofs of
a transcendent talent. His singing both in oratorio
and opera was of such a stamp as to place him in
the van with the most accomplished Italian singers.
With the added finish of method which he gained
by his Italian studies, he made a most favorable
impression in the various cities when he sang in
Italy, and his name was freely quoted as being
one of the very greatest living singers. The elder
Davide, whose reputation at that time had no
equal, even Crescentini being placed second to
him, said on hearing him sing, "There are only
two singers in the world, I and the Englishman."
Braham had one great advantage over his rivals
in this, that his knowledge of the science of music



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in all its most abstruse difficulties was thorough.
Skillful adept as he was in all the refinements of
executive technique, his profound musical grasp
and insight made all difficulties of interpretation
perfect child's-play. Our readers will recall an
illustration of Braham's readiness and quickness
of resource in the anecdote of him told in connection with Mrs. Billington's life.
Refusing the most flattering offers from Italian
impressarii, who were eager to retain him for a
while in Italy, Braham returned to England in
1801, and for the most part during a number of
years devoted himself to English opera. Though
he had approved himself a brilliant master in the
Italian school, his taste and talents also peculiarly
fitted him-like Sims Reeves, who seems to -have
taken Braham for a model-for the simple and
affecting ballad-music with which English opera
is so characteristically marked. His only appearances in Italian opera in England after his return
were in the seasons of 1804, 1805, 1806, and 1816.
These seasons were marked by the performance
of the fine operas of Winter, of some of the masterpieces of Cimarosa, and by the first introduction into England of the music of Mozart, the
" Clemenza di Tito," in which Mrs. Billington and
Braham appeared, having been the earliest ac-.
quaintance of the English public with the great-,st of the German operatic composers. The production of this opera was at the suggestion of



ANGELICA CATALANI.

159

George IV., then Prince of Wales, who had a
manuscript score of the work, with instrumental
parts, sent to him as a gift by the great Haydn
several years before, as a memorial of the kindness shown by the Prince to the composer of the
"Creation," when in London conducting the celebrated Salaman symphonic concerts. The characters of Vittellic and Cesto were splendidly performed by the two singers; but the Italian part
of the company did not perform the difficult and
exacting music con amore, neither were the audiences of that day trained up to the appreciation
of the glorious music of Mozart which has obtained since that time.
Braham's career as a singer of English opera
is that with which his glory in art is chiefly associated. His first appearance was in a somewhat
feeble work called the " Chains of the Heart," and
this was succeeded by the " Cabinet," a production in which Braham composed all the music of
his own part, both solo and the concerted portions
in which he had to appear-a custom which he
continued for a number of years. Seldom has
music been more popular than that in which Braham appeared, for he knew how to suit all the
subtile qualities of his own voice. Among the
more celebrated operas in which he appeared, now
unknown except by tradition, may be mentioned
"Family Quarrels," "Thirty Thousand," "English Fleet," "Out of Place," "False Alarms,"



160

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" Kars, or Love in a Desert," and "Devil's Bridge."
As Braham grew older he attained a prodigious
reputation, never before equaled in England. In
theatre, concert-room, and church he had scarcely
a rival; and whether in singing a simple ballad,
in oratorio, or in the grandest dramatic music, the
largeness and nobility of his style were matched
by a voice which in its prime was almost peerless.
His compass extended over nineteen notes, and
his falsetto from D to A was so perfect that it
was difficult to tell where the natural voice ended.
When Weber composed his opera "Oberon" for
the English stage in 1826, Braham was the original Sir Huon.
Braham had made a large fortune by his
genius and industry, the copyright on the many
beautiful ballads and songs which he contributed
to the musical treasures of the language amounting alone to a handsome competence. But, following the example of so many great artists, he
aspired to be manager also. In conjunction with
Yates, in 1831 he purchased the Colosseum in
Regent's Park for forty thousand pounds, and
five years afterward he spent twenty-six thousand
pounds in building the St. James's theatre. These
speculations were unfortunate, and Braham found
himself compelled to renew his professional exertions at a period when musical artists generally
think of retiring from the stage.   He made a
concert and operatic tour in America in 1840, and



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161

it was while playing with him in " Guy Mannering " that Charlotte Cushman, who then performed
singing parts, conceived the remarkable r5le of
Meg 3errilies, which she made one of the most
picturesque and vivid memories of the stage.
Francis Wemyss, in his "Theatrical Biography,"
refers to Braham's appearance at the National
Theatre, Philadelphia: "Who that heard ' Jephthah's Rash Vow' could ever forget the volume of
voice which issued from that diminutive frame, or
the ecstasy with which 'Waft her, angels, through
the skies' thrilled every nerve of the attentive
listener? He ought to have visited the United
States twenty years sooner, or not have risked his
reputation by coming at all. Like Incledon, he
was only heard by Americans when his powers of
voice were so impaired as to leave them to conjecture what he had been, and mourn the wreck that
all had once admired." Such an impression as
this seems to have been common with the American public-an experience afterward in recent
years repeated in the last visit of the once great
Mario.
In private life Braham was much admired, and
was always received in the most conservative and
fastidious circles. As a man of culture, a humorist, and a raconteur, he was the life of society;
and he will be remembered as the composer who
has left more popular songs, duets, etc., than almost any other English musician. He died in



162

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1856, after living to see his daughter Lady Waldegrave, and one of the most brilliant leaders of London high life.
The Davides, father and son, also belonged to
the Catalani period, the elder having sung with
her in Italy, and the younger in after years both
in opera and concert. Giacomo Davide, the elder,
whose prime was between 1770 and 1800, was
pronounced by Lord Mount Edgecumbe the first
tenor of his time, possessing a powerful and welltoned voice, great execution as well as knowledge
of music, and an excellent style of singing. His
son Giovanni, who became better known than
himself, was his pupil. Though singing with a
faulty method, Giovanni Davide had a voice of
such magnificent compass and quality as to produce with it the most electrical effects. M. Edouard Bertin gives an interesting account of him
in a letter from Venice dated 1823: " Davide
excites among the dilletanti of this town an
enthusiasm and delight which can hardly be conceived without having been witnessed. He is a
singer of the new school, full of mannerism, affectation, and display, abusing like Martin his
magnificent voice with its prodigious compass
(three octaves comprised between four B flats).
He crushes the principal motive of an air beneath
the luxuriance of his ornamentation, which has no
other merit than that of a difficulty conquered.
But he is also a singer full of warmth, verve, ex


ANGELICA CATALANI.

163

pression, energy, and musical sentiment. Alone
he can fill up and give life to a scene: it is impossible for another singer to carry away an
audience as he does, and when he will only be
simple he is admirable. He is the Rossini of
song. He is the greatest singer I ever heard.
Doubtless the way in which Garcia* plays and
sings the part of Otello is preferable, taking it
all together, to that of Davide; it is pure, more
severe, more constantly dramatic; but with all
his faults Davide produces more effect, a great
deal more effect. There is something in him, I
can not say what, which, even when he is ridiculous, entrances attention.  He never leaves you
cold, and when he does not move he astonishes
you. In a word, before hearing him, I did not
know what the power of singing really was. The
enthusiasm he excites is without limit." This
remarkable singer died in St. Petersburg in 1851,
being then manager of an Imperial Opera in that
city of enthusiastic music-lovers.
V.
IN 1824 Mme. Catalani again filled an'engagement in England, making her reappearance in
Mayer's comic pasticcio, "1 I Fanatico per la Musica," the airs of which had been expressly selected
for the display of her vocal tours deforce. Crowded audiences again welcomed her whom absence
* The father of Mmes. Malibran and Viardot-Garcia.



164

GREAT SINGERS.

had made an idol dearer than ever, and her transcendent power as a singer seemed to have rise
even beyond the old pitch in her electrical bravura style of execution. Yet some critics thought
they detected tokens of the destroying hand of
time. One critic spoke of the " fragrance " of her
tone as having evaporated. Another compared
her voice to a pianoforte the hammers of which
had grown hard by use. In her appearance she
had become even more beautiful than ever, with
some slight accession of emlbonpoint, and was conceded to be the bandsomest woman in Europe.
For a while her popularity was unbounded among
all classes, and probably no singer that ever lived
rode on a higher wave of public adoration. But
the critics began to be very much dissatisfied with
the vicious uses to which she put her magnificent voice.  In Paris the wags had called her
l'instrumnent Catalani. In London they said her
style had become a caricature of its former grandeur, so exaggerated and affected had it grown.
"'When she begins one of the interminable
roulades up the scale," says a writer in " Knight's
Quarterly Magazine," "she gradually raises her
body, which she had before stooped to almost a
level with the ground, until, having won her way
with a quivering lip and chattering chin to the
very topmost note, she tosses back her head and
all its nodding feathers with an air of triumph;
then suddenly falls to a note two octaves and a



ANGELICA CATALANI.

165

half lower with incredible aplomb, and smiles like
a victorious Amazon over a conquered enemy."
A throng of flatterers joined in encouraging her
in all her defects. " No sooner does Catalani quit
the orchestra," says the same writer, "than she is
beset by a host of foreign sycophants, who load
her with exaggerated praise. I was present at a
scene of this kind in the refreshment-room at Bath,
and heard reiterated on all sides, 'Ah! madame,
la derniere fois toujours la meilleure!' Thus is
poor Mme. Catalani led to strive to excel herself
every time she sings, until she exposes herself to
the ridicule most probably of those very flatterers; for I have heard that on the Continent she
is mimicked by a man dressed in female attire,
who represents, by extravagant terms and gestures,
Mme. Catalani surpassing herself." Occasionally,
however, she showed that her genius had not forsaken her. Her singing of Luther's Hymn is thus
described by an appreciative listener: "She admits in this grandly simple composition no ornament whatever but a pure shake at the conclusion.
The majesty of her sustained tones, so rich, so ample as not only to fill but overflow the cathedral
where I heard her, the solemnity of her manner,
and the St. Cecilia-like expression of her raised
eyes and rapt countenance, produced a thrilling effect through the united medium of sight
and hearing. Whoever has heard Catalani sing
this, accompanied by Schmidt on the trumpet, has



166

GREAT SINGERS.

heard the utmost that music can do. Then in the
succeeding chorus, when the same awful words,
'The trumpet sounds; the graves restore the dead
which they contained before,' are repeated by the
whole choral strength, her voice, piercing through
the clang of instruments and the burst of other
voices, is heard as distinctly as if it were alone!
During the encore I found my way to the top of
a tower on the outside of the cathedral, and could
still distinguish her wonderful voice."
A charming incident is told of Mme. Catalani
while in Brighton. Captain Montague, cruising
off that port, invited her and some other ladies to
a fete on his ship, and the ladies were escorted on
board by the Captain in a boat manned by twenty
men. The prima donna suddenly burst forth with
her pet song, "Rule Britannia," singing with
electrical fire and the full power of her magnificent voice. The tars dropped their oars, and tears
rolled down their weatherbeaten cheeks, while the
Captain said: "You see, madame, the effect this
favorite air has on these brave men when sung
by the finest voice in the world. I have been in
many victorious battles, but never felt an excitement equal to this."
Mme. Catalani retired from the stage in 1831.
Young and brilliant rivals, such as Pasta and Sontag, were rising to contest her sovereignty, and
for several years the critics had been dropping
pretty plain hints that it would be the most ju,



ANGELICA CATALANI.

167

dicious and dignified course. She settled on a
magnificent estate near Lake Como, where she
lived with her two eldest children-a son and
daughter-the younger son being absent on military duty in the French army. This latter afterward became an equerry to Napoleon III., and
the other children occupied positions of rank and
honor. Mme. Catalani founded a school of gratuitous instruction for young girls near her beautiful villa, and exacted that all who graduated
from this school should adopt her own name.
One, Signora Masilli-Catalani, became quite an
eminent singer. Mrs. Trollope tells us something
of Catalani's latter days as she visited her in
Italy: "Nothing could be more amiable than the
reception she gave us." She expressed a great
admiration and love for the English. Her beauty
was little injured. "Her eyes and teeth are still
magnificent," says Mrs. Trollope, " and I am told
that, when seen in evening full dress by candlelight, no stranger can see her for the first time
without inquiring who that charming-looking woman is." Mrs. Trollope hinted to Mlle. de Vallebreque that she would like to hear her' mother
sing; and in a moment Mme. Catalani was at the
piano, smiling at the whispered request from her
daughter. " I know not what it was she sang,
but scarcely had she permitted her voice to swell
into one of those bravura passages, of which her
execution was so very peculiar and so perfectly
15



168

GREAT SINGERS.

unequaled, than I felt as if some magic process
was being performed upon me, which took me
back again to something-I know not what to
call it-which I had neither heard nor felt for
nearly twenty years. Involuntarily, unconsciously, my eyes filled with tears, and I felt as much
embarrassed as a young lady of fifteen might be
who suddenly found herself in the act of betraying emotions which she was far indeed from wishing to display."  William Gardiner visited Mme.
Catalani in 1846. " I was surprised at the vigor
of Mme. Catalani," he says, "and how little she
was altered since I saw her at Derby in 1828.
I paid her a compliment upon her good looks.
'Ah!' said she, 'I am growing old and ugly.' I
would not allow it. ' Why, man,' she said, 'I'm
sixty-six!' She has lost none of that commanding expression which gave her such dignity on the
stage. She is without a wrinkle, and appears to
be no more than forty. Her breadth of chest is
still remarkable; it was this which endowed her
with the finest voice that ever sang. Her speaking voice and dramatic air are still charming, and
not in the least impaired."
About the year 1848 Catalani and her family
left Italy for fear of the cholera, which was then
raging, and sought refuge in Paris. While residing there she heard Jenny Lind. One morning,
a few days after, the servant announced a strange
visitor, who would not give her name. On being



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169

ushered in, the timid stranger, who showed a plain
but pleasant face, knelt at her feet and said falteringly," I am Jenny Lind, madame-I am come
to ask your blessing." A few days afterward Catalani was stricken with the cholera, which she so
much dreaded, and died on June 12th, at the age
of sixty-nine.
It is not a marvel that the public was captivated with Catalani. She had every splendid gift
that Nature could lavish-surpassing physical
beauty, a matchless voice, energy of spirit, sweetness of temper, and warm affections. Her whole
private life was marked by the utmost purity and
propriety, and she was the soul of generosity and
unselfishness. The many business troubles in
which she was involved were caused by her husband's rapacity and narrowness of judgment, and
not by her own disposition to take advantage of
the necessities of her managers-a charge her enemies at one time brought against her.
Her unrivaled endowments (for that taken all
in all they were unrivaled is now pretty well acknowledged) ought to have raised her much higher
in rank as an artist. Her education even as a
singer was extremely superficial, and she became
an object of universal admiration without ever
knowing anything about music. As she advanced
in her career, her whole ambition seemed to be
narrowed down to surprising the world by displays of vocal power. As long as these displays



170             GREAT SINGERS.
would dazzle and astonish, it made little difference bow absurd and unmeaning they were. Had
she assiduously cultivated the dramatic part of
her profession, such were the powers of her voice,
her sense of the beautiful, her histrionic passion
and energy, her charms of person, that she might
have been the greatest lyric artist that ever lived.
Many of the songs she selected as vehicles of display were unsuitable to a female voice. For instance, she would take the martial song for a bass
voice, "Non piu Andrai," in " Figaro," and overpower by the force and volume of her organ all
the brass instruments of the orchestra. A craving for such sort of admiration from unthinking
crowds turned her aside from the true path of
her art, where she might have reached the top
peak of greatness, and has handed down her memory a shining beacon rather than as a model to her
successors.



GIUDITTA PASTA.                   171
GIUDITTA PASTA.
Greatness of Genius overcoming Disqualification.-The Characteristic Lesson of Pasta's Life.-I-er First Appearance and Failure.-Pasta returns to Italy and devotes herself to Study.Her First Great Successes in 1819.-Characteristics of her
Voice and Singing.-Chorley's Review of the Impressions
made on him by Pasta.-She makes her Triumphal Debut in
Paris.-Talma on Pasta's Acting.-Her Performances of " Giulietta " and " Tancredi." - Medea, Pasta's Grandest Impersonation, is given to the World.-Description of the Performance.-Enthusiasm of the Critics and the Public.-Introduction of Pasta to the English Public in Rossini's " Otello."The Impression made in England.-Recognized as the Greatest
Dramatic Prima Donna in the World.-Glances at the Salient
Facts of her English Career.-The Performance of "II Crociato in Egitto."-She plays the Male Rsle in "Otello."Rivalry with Malibran and Sontag.--The Founder of a New
School of Singing.-Pasta creates the Leading PRles in Bellini's "Sonnambula"' and "Norma" and Donizetti's " Anna
Bolena."-Decadence and Retirement.
I.
As   an artist who could       transform    natural
faults into the rarest beauties, who could make
the world forgive the presence of other deficiencies which could not thus be glorified by the presence of genius, thought, and truth-as one who
engraved deeper impressions on the memory of
her hearers than any other even in an age of great
singers-Mme. Pasta must be placed in the very
front rank of art.    The way by which this gifted
woman arrived at her throne was long and toil


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GREAT SINGERS.

some. Nature had denied her the ninety-nine
requisites of the singer (according to the old Italian adage). Her voice at the origin was limited,
husky, and weak, without charm, without flexibility. Though her countenance spoke, its features were cast in a coarse mold. Her figure was
ungraceful, her movements were awkward. No
candidate for musical sovereignty ever presented
herself with what must have appeared a more
meager catalogue of pretensions at the outset of
her career. What she became let our sketch reveal.
She was the daughter of a Jewish family
named Negri, born at Saronno, near Milan, in the
year 1798. The records of her childhood are
slight, and beyond the fact that she received her
first musical lessons at the Cathedral of Como
and her latter training at the Milan Conservatory,
and that she essayed her feeble wings at secondrate Italian theatres in subordinate parts for the
first year, there is but little of significance to relate. In 1816 she sang in the train of the haughty
and peerless Catalani at the Favart in Paris, but
did not succeed in attracting attention. But it
happened that Ayrton, of the King's Theatre,
London, heard her sing at the house of Paer, the
composer, and liked her well enough to engage
herself and husband at a moderate salary. When
Pasta's glimmering little light first shone in London, Fodor and Camporese were in the full blaze



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173

of their reputation-both brilliant singers, but
destined to pale into insignificance afterward before the intense splendor of Pasta's perfected genius. One of the notices of the opening performance at the King's Theatre, when Mme. Camporese sang the leading role of Cimarosa's "Penelope," followed up a lavish eulogium on the prima
donna with the contemptuous remark, "Two subordinate singers named Pasta and Mari came forward in the characters of Telamuco and Arsinod, but their musical talent does not require minute delineation." There is every reason to believe that Pasta was openly flouted both by the
critics and the members of her own profession
during her first London experience, but a magnificent revenge was in store for her. Among
the parts she sang at this chrysalis period were
Cherubino in the "Nozze di Figaro," Servilia in
"La Clemenza di Tito," and the role of the pretended shrew in Ferrari's "I1 Sbaglio Fortunato."
Mme. Pasta found herself at the end of the
season a dire failure. But she had the searching
self-insight which stamps the highest forms of
genius, and she determined to correct her faults,
and develop her great but latent powers. Suddenly she disappeared from the view of the operatic world, and buried herself in a retired Italian
city, where she studied with intelligent and tireless zeal under M. Scappa, a maestro noted for his
power of kindling the material of genius.   Oc


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casionally she tested herself in public. An English nobleman who heard her casually at this time
said: " Other singers find themselves endowed
with a voice and leave everything to chance.
This woman leaves nothing to chance, and her
success is therefore certain." She subjected herself to a course of severe and incessant study to
subdue her voice. To equalize it was impossible.
There was a portion of the scale which differed
from the rest in quality, and remained to the last
" under a veil," to use the Italian term. Some of
her notes were always out of time, especially at
the beginning of a performance, until the vocalizing machinery became warmed and mellowed
by passion and excitement. Out of these uncouth
and rebellious materials she had to compose her
instrument, and then to give it flexibility. Chorley, in speaking of these difficulties, says: "The
volubility and brilliancy, when acquired, gained
a character of their own from the resisting peculiarities of her organ. There were a breadth, an
expressiveness in her roulades, an evenness and
solidity in her shake, which imparted to every
passage a significance beyond the reach of more
spontaneous singers."    But, after all, the true
secret of her greatness was in the intellect and
imagination which lay behind the voice, and made
every tone quiver with dramatic sensibility.
The lyric Siddons of her age was now on the
verge of making her real ckbut. When she reap


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peared in Venice, in 1819, she made a great impression, which was strengthened by her subsequent performances in Rome, Milan, and Trieste,
during that and the following year. The fastidious Parisians recognized her power in the autumn
of 1821, when she sang at the Theatre Italien;
and at Verona, during the Congress of 1822, she
was received with tremendous enthusiasm. She
returned to Paris the same year, and in the opera
of " Romeo e Giulietta " she exhibited such power,
both in singing and acting, as to call from the
French critics the most extravagant terms of
praise. Mine. Pasta was then laying the foundation of one of the most dazzling reputations ever
gained by prima donna.    By sheer industry she
had extended the range of her voice to two octaves and a half-from A above the bass clef note
to C flat, and even to D in alt. Her tones had
become rich and sweet, except when she attempted to force them beyond their limits; her intonation was, however, never quite perfect, being
occasionally a little flat.  Her singing was pure
and totally divested of all spurious finery; she
added little to what was set down by the composer, and that little was not only in good taste,
but had a great deal of originality to recommend
it. She possessed deep feeling and correct judgment.   Her shake was most beautiful; Signor
Pacini's well-known cavatina, " Il soave e bel contento "-the peculiar feature of which consisted



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GREAT SINGERS.

in the solidity and power of a sudden shake, contrasted with the detached staccato of the first bar
-was written for Mme. Pasta.        Some of her
notes were sharp almost to harshness, but this
defect with the greatness of genius she overcame,
and even converted into a beauty; for in passages
of profound passion her guttural tones were thrilling.  The irregularity of her lower notes, governed thus by a perfect taste and musical tact,
aided to a great extent in giving that depth of
expression which was one of the principal charms
of her singing; indeed, these lower tones were
peculiarly suited for the utterance of vehement
passion, producing an extraordinary effect by the
splendid and unexpected contrast which they enabled her to give to the sweetness of the upper
tones, causing a kind of musical discordance indescribably pathetic and melancholy. Her accents
were so plaintive, so penetrating, so profoundly
tragical, that no one could resist their influence.
Her genius as a tragedienne surpassed her
talent as a singer. When on the stage she was
no longer Pasta, but Tancredi, Romeo, Desdemona, Medea, or Semiramide. Ebers tells us in
his " Seven Years of the King's Theatre ": " Nothing could have been more free from trick or
affectation than Pasta's performance.   There is
no perceptible effort to resemble a character she
plays; on the contrary, she enters the stage the
character itself; transposed into the situation,



GIUDITTA PASTA.

excited by the hopes and fears, breathing the life
and spirit of the being she represents." Mine.
Pasta was a slow reader, but she had in perfection
the sense for the measurement and proportion of
time, a most essential musical quality. This gave
her an instinctive feeling for propriety, which no
lessons could teach; that due recognition of accent and phrase, that absence of flurry and exaggeration, such as makes the discourse and behavior
of some people memorable, apart from the value
of matter and occasion; that intelligent composure, without coldness, which impresses and
reassures those who see and hear. A quotation
from a distinguished critic already cited gives a
vivid idea of Pasta's influence on the most cold
and fastidious judges:
" The greatest grace of all, depth and reality
of expression, was possessed by this remarkable
artist as few (I suspect) before her-as none
whom I have since admired-have possessed it.
The best of her audience were held in thrall,
without being able to analyze what made up the
spell, what produced the effect,, so soon as she
opened her lips. Her recitative, from the moment
she entered, was riveting by its truth. People
accustomed to object to the conventionalities of
opera (just as loudly as if all drama was not conventional too), forgave the singing and the strange
language for the sake of the direct and dignified
appeal made by her declamation. Mine. Pasta



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never changed her readings, her effects, her ornaments. What was to her true, when once arrived
at, remained true for ever.   To arrive at what
stood with her for truth, she labored, made experiments, rejected with an elaborate care, the
result of which,-in one meaner or more meager,
must have been monotony. But the impression
made on me was that of being always subdued
and surprised for the first time. Though I knew
what was coming, when the passion broke out, or
when the phrase was sung, it seemed as if they
were something new, electrical, immediate. The
effect to me is at present, in the moment of writing, as the impression made by the first sight of
the sea, by the first snow mountain, by any of
those first emotions which never entirely pass
away. These things are utterly different from
the fanaticism of a laudator temporis acti."
When Talma heard her declaim, at the time
of her earliest celebrity in Paris, he said: "Here
is a woman of whom I can still learn. One turn
of her beautiful head, one glance of her eye, one
light motion of her hand, is, with her, sufficient
to express a passion. She can raise the soul of
the spectator to the highest pitch of astonishment
and delight by one tone of her voice. ' 0 Dio!'
as it comes from her breast, swelling over her
lips, is of indescribable effect."  Poetical and
enthusiastic by temperament, the crowning excellence of her art was a grand simplicity. There



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179

was a sublimity in her expressions of vehement
passion which was the result of measured force,
energy which was never wasted, exalted pathos
that never overshot the limits of art. Vigorous
without violence, graceful without artifice, she
was always greatest when the greatest emergency
taxed her powers.
Pasta's second great part at the The6tre Italien was in Rossini's " Tancredi," an impersonation
which was one of the most enchanting and finished
of her lighter roles. "She looked resplendent in
the casque and cuirass of the Red Cross Knight.
No one could ever sing the part of Tancredi like
Mine. Pasta: her pure taste enabled her to add
grace to the original composition by elegant and
irreproachable ornaments.   'Di tanti palpiti' had
been first presented to the Parisians by Mme. Fodor, who covered it with rich and brilliant embroidery, and gave it what an English critic, Lord
Mount Edgcumbe, afterward termed its countrydance-like character.   Mme. Pasta, on the contrary, infused into this air its true color and expression, and the effect was ravishing."
"Tancredi" was quickly followed by " Otello,"
and the impassioned spirit, energy, delicacy, and
tenderness with which Pasta infused the character
of Desdemona furnished the theme for the most
lavish praises on the part of the critics. It was
especially in the last act that her acting electrified
her audiences. Her transition from hope to ter16



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GREAT SINGERS.

ror, from supplication to scorn, culminating in the
vehement outburst "sono innocente," her last frenzied looks, when, blinded by her disheveled hair
and bewildered with her conflicting emotions, she
seems to seek fruitlessly the means of flight, were
awful. The varied resources of the great art of
tragedy were consummately drawn forth by her
-Desdemona, in this opera, though she was yet to
astonish the world with that impersonation imperishably linked with her name in the history of art.
" Elisabetta " and " Mose in Egitto " were also revived for her, and she filled the leading characters
in both with eclat.
II.
IN January, 18254, Mme. Pasta gave to the
world what by all concurrent accounts must have
been the grandest lyric impersonation in the records of art, the character of Mliedea in Simon Mayer's opera. This masterpiece was composed musically and dramatically by the artist herself on
the weak foundation of a wretched play and correct but commonplace music. In a more literal
and truthful sense than that in which the term
is so often travestied by operatic singers, the
part was created by Pasta, reconstructed in form
and meaning, as well as inspired by a matchless
executive genius. In the language of one writer,
whose enthusiasm seems not to have been excessive: " It was a triumph of histrionic art, and af


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181

forded every opportunity for the display of all the
resources of her genius-the varied powers which
had been called forth and combined in MAedea,
the passionate tenderness of Romeo, the spirit
and animation of Tancredi, the majesty of Semiramide, the mournful beauty of N-ina, the dignity
and sweetness of Desdemona.     It is difficult to
conceive a character more highly dramatic or more
intensely impassioned than that of Mledea; and
in the successive scenes Pasta appeared as if torn
by the conflict of contending passions, until at
last her anguish rose to sublimity. The conflict
of human affection and supernatural power, the
tenderness of the wife, the agonies of the mother,
and the rage of the woman scorned, were portrayed with a truth, a power, a grandeur of effect
unequaled before or since by any actress or singer. Every attitude, each movement and look, became a study for a painter; for in the storm of
furious passion the grace and beauty of her gestures were never marred by extravagance. Indeed, her impersonation of Mfedea was one of the
finest illustrations of classic grandeur the stage
has ever presented.   In the scene where Mfedea
murders her children, the acting of Pasta rose to
the sublime. Her self-abandonment, her horror
at the contemplation of the deed she is about to
perpetrate, the irrepressible affection which comes
welling up in her breast, were pictured with a
magnificent power, yet with such natural pathos,



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that the agony of the distracted mother was never lost sight of in the fury of the priestess. Folding her arms across her bosom, she contracted her
form, as, cowering, she shrunk from the approach
of her children; then grief, love, despair, rage,
madness, alternately wrung her heart, until at last
her soul seemed appalled at the crime she contemplated. Starting forward, she pursued the innocent creatures, while the audience involuntarily
closed their eyes and recoiled before the harrowing spectacle, which almost elicited a stifled cry
of horror. But her fine genius invested the character with that classic dignity and beauty which,
as in the Niobe group, veils the excess of human
agony in the drapery of ideal art."
Chorley, whose warmth of admiration is always tempered by accurate art-knowledge and
the keenest insight, recurs in later years to Pasta's Medea in these eloquent words: "The air of
quiet concentrated vengeance, seeming to fill every fiber of her frame-as though deadly poison
were flowing through her veins-with which she
stood alone wrapped in her scarlet mantle, as the
bridal procession of Jasonz and Creusa swept by,
is never to be forgotten. It must have been hard
for those on the stage with her to pass that draped
statue with folded arms-that countenance lit up
with awful fire, but as still as death and inexorable as doom. Where again has ever been seen an
exhibition of art grander than her Aledea's strug


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183

gle with herself ere she consents to murder her
children?-than her hiding the dagger with its
fell purpose in her bosom under the strings of her
distracted hair?-than of her steps to and fro as
of one drunken with frenzy-torn with the agonies of natural pity, yet still resolved on her awful triumph? These memories are so many possessions to those who have seen them so long as
reason shall last; and their reality is all the more
assured to me because I have not yet fallen into
the old man's habit of denying or doubting new
sensations." The Paris public, it need not be said,
even more susceptible to the charm of great acting than that of great singing, were in a frenzy
of admiration over this wonderful new picture
added to the portrait-gallery of art. In this performance Pasta had the advantage of absorbing
the whole interest of the opera; in her other great
Parisian successes she was obliged to share the
admiration of the public with the tenor Garcia
(Malibran's father), the barytone Bordogni, and
Levasseur the basso, next to Lablache the greatest of his artistic kind.
A story is told of a distinguished critic that
he persuaded himself that, with such power of
portraying Jfedea's emotions, Pasta must possess
Medea's features. Having been told that the features of the Colchian sorceress had been found in
the ruins of Herculaneum cut on an antique gem,
his fantastic enthusiasm so overcame his judg


184

GREAT SINGERS.

ment that he took a journey to Italy expressly to
inspect this visionary cameo, which, it need not
be said, existed only in the imagination of a practical joker.
In 1824 Pasta made her first English appearance at the King's Theatre, at which was engaged
an extraordinary assemblage of talent, Mesdames
Colbran-Rossini, Catalani, Ronzi di Begnis, Vestris, Caradori, and Pasta. The great tragedienne
made her first appearance in Desdemona, and, as
all Europe was ringing with her fame, the curiosity to see and hear her was almost unparalleled.
Long before the beginning of the opera the house
was packed with an intensely expectant throng.
For an English audience, idolizing the memory of
Shakespeare, even Rossini's fine music, conducted
by that great composer himself, could hardly under ordinary circumstances condone the insult
offered to a species of literary religion by the
wretched stuff pitchforked together and called
a libretto. But the genius of Pasta made them
forget even this, and London bowed at her feet
with as devout a recognition as that offered by
the more fickle Parisians. Her chaste and noble
style, untortured by meretricious ornament, excited the deepest admiration. Count Stendhal,
the biographer of Rossini, seems to have heard her
for the first time at London, and writes of her in
the following fashion:
" Moderate in the use of embellishments, Mine.



GIUDITTA PASTA.

185

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


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GREAT SINGERS.

relli's " Romeo e Giulietta " followed as the vehicles of Pasta's genius for the pleasure of the
English public, and the season was closed with
" Semiramide," in which her regal majesty seemed
to embody the ideal conception of the Assyrian
queen. The scene in the first act where the specter of her murdered consort appears she made so
thrilling and impressive that some of the older
opera-goers compared it to the wonderful acting
of Garrick in the " ghost-scene" of "Hamlet";
and those when she learns that Arsace is her
son, and when she falls by his hand before the
tomb of N'inus, were 'rcounted in after-years as
among the most startling memories of a lifetime.
During her London season Mme. Pasta went
much into society, and her exalted fame, united
with her amiable manners, made her everywhere
sought after. Immense sums were paid her at
private concerts, and her subscription concerts at
Almack's were the rage of the town. Her operatic salary of ~14,000 was nearly doubled by
her income from other sources.
III.
THE following year the management of the
King's Theatre again endeavored to secure Pasta,
who had returned to Paris. Before she would
finally consent she stipulated that the new manager should pay her all the arrears of salary left
unsettled by his predecessor, for, in spite of its



GIUDITTA PASTA.

187

artistic excellence, the late season had not proved
a pecuniary success. After much negotiation the
difficulty was arranged, and Mme. Pasta, binding herself to fill her Parisian engagements at the
close of her leave of absence, received her conge
for England. Her reappearance in "Otello " was
greeted with fervid applause, and it was decided
that her singing had gained in finish and beauty,
while her acting was as powerful as before. It
was during this season that Pasta first sang with
Malibran. Ronzi di Begnis had lost her voice,
Caradori had seceded in a pet, and the manager
in despair tried the trembllng and inexperienced
daughter of the great Spanish tenor to fill up the
gap. She was a failure, as Pasta had been at first
in England, but time was to bring her a glorious
recompense, as it had done to her elder rival. For
the next two years Pasta sang alternately in London and Paris, and her popularity on the lyric
stage exceeded that of any of the contemporary singers, for Catalini, whose genius turned in
another direction, seemed to care only for the
concert room. But some disagreement with Rossini caused her to leave Paris and spend a year
in Italy. During this time her English reputation stood at its highest point. No one had ever
appeared on the English stage who commanded
such exalted   artistic respect and  admiration.
Ebers tells us, speaking of her last engagement
before going to Italy: "At no period of Pas


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ta's career had she been more fashionable. She
had literally worked her way up to eminence, and,
having attained the height, she stood on it firm
and secure; no performer has owed less to caprice or fashion; her reputation has been earned,
and, what is more, deserved."
On her reappearance in London in 1827 Pasta
was engaged for twenty-three nights at a salary
of 3,000 guineas, with a free benefit, which yielded her 1,500 guineas more. Her opening performance was that of Desdemona, in which Mme.
Malibran also appeared during the same season,
thus affording the critics an opportunity for comparison. It was admitted that the younger diva
had the advantage in vocalization and execution,
but that Pasta's conception was incontestably superior, and her reading of the part characterized
by far greater nobility and grandeur. The novelty of the season was Signor Coccia's opera of
" Maria Stuarda," in which Pasta created the part
of the beautiful Scottish queen. Her interpretation possessed an " impassioned dignity, with an
eloquence of voice, of look, and of action which
defies description and challenges the severest criticism." It was a piece of acting which great natural genius, extensive powers of observation, peculiar sensibility of feeling, and those acquirements
of art which are the results of sedulous study,
combined to make perfect. It is said that Mmie,
Pasta felt this part so intensely that, when sum


GIUDITTA PASTA.

189

moned before the audience at the close, tears
could be seen rolling down her cheeks, and her
form to tremble with the scarcely-subsiding swell
of agitation.
During a short Dublin engagement the same
year the following incident occurred, showing
how passionate were her sensibilities in real life
as well as on the stage: One day, while walking
with some friends, a ragged child about three
years of age approached and asked charity for
her blind mother in such artless and touching accents that the prima donna burst into tears and
put into the child's hands all the money she had.
Her friends began extolling her charity and the
goodness of her heart. "I will not accept your
compliments," said she, wiping the tears from her
eyes. "This child demanded charity in a sublime manner. I have seen, at one glance, all the
miseries of the mother, the wretchedness of their
home, the want of clothing, the cold which they
suffer. I should indeed be a great actress if at
any time I could find a gesture expressing profound misery with such truth."
Pasta's next remarkable impersonation was that
of Armmazdo in " II Crociato in Egitto," written
by Meyerbeer for Signor Velluti, the last of the
race of male sopranos. She had already performed
it in Paris, and been overwhelmed with abuse by
Velluti's partisans, who were enraged to see their
favorite's strong part taken from him by one so



190

GREAT SINGERS.

much superior in genius, however inferior in mere
executive vocalism. Velluti had disfigured his
performance by introducing a perfect cascade of
roulades andfiorituri, but Pasta's delivery of the
music, while inspired by her great tragic sensibility, was marked by such breadth and fidelity that
many thought they heard the music for the first
time. A ludicrous story is told of the first performance in London.    Pasta had flown to her
dressing-room at the end of one of the scenes to
change her costume, but. the audience demanding
a repetition of the trio with Mme. Caradori and
Mile. Brambilla, Pasta was obliged to appear,
amid   shouts of laughter, half Crusader, half
Mameluke.
On the occasion of her benefit the same season, the opera being "Otello," Mme. Pasta essayed the daring experiment of singing and
playing the rdle of the Moor, Mlle. Sontag singing Desdemona. Though the transposition of the
music from a tenor to a mezzo-soprano voice injured the effect of the concerted pieces, the passionate acting redeemed the innovation. In the
last act, where she, as Otello, seized Desdemona
and dragged her by the hair to the bed that she
might stab her, the effect was one of such tragic
horror that many left the theatre. She thus united
the most cultivated vocal excellence with dramatic
genius of unequaled power. " Mme. Pasta," said
a clever writer, " is in fact the founder of a new



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191

school, and after her the possession of vocal talent
alone is insufficient to secure high favor, or to excite
the same degree of interest for any length of time.
Even in Italy, where the mixture of dramatic
with musical science was long neglected, and not
appreciated for want of persons equally gifted
with both attainments, Mme. Pasta has exhibited
to her countrymen the beauty of a school too
long neglected, in such a manner that they will
no longer admit the notion of lyric tragedy being
properly spoken without dramatic as well as vocal
qualifications in its representative." The presence
of Malibran and Sontag during this season inspired
Pasta to almost superhuman efforts to maintain
her threatened supremacy. In her efforts to surpass these brilliant young rivals in all respects, she
laid herself open to criticism by departing somewhat from the severe and classic school of delivery which had always distinguished her, and
overloading her singing with ornament.
Honors were showered on Pasta in different
parts of Europe. She was made first court singer
in 1829 by the Emperor of Austria, and presented
by him with a superb diadem of rubies and diamonds. At Bologna, where she performed in
twelve of the Rossinian operas under the 6dton of
the composer himself, a medal was struck in her
honor by the Societa del Casino, and all the different cities of her native land vied in doing honor
to the greatest of lyric tragediennes. At Milan
17



192

GREAT SINGERS.

in 1830 she sang with Rubini, Galli, Mme. Pisaroni, Lablache, and David. Donizetti at this time
wrote the opera of "Anna Bolena," with the special view of suiting the dominant qualities of
Pasta, Rubini, and Galli. The following season
Pasta sang at Milan, at a salary of 40,000 francs
for twenty representations, and was obliged to
divide the admiration of the public with Malibran, who was rapidly rising to the brilliant rank
which she afterward held against all comers.
Vincenzo Bellini now wrote for Pasta his charming opera of "La Sonnambula," and it was produced with Rubini, Mariano, and Mme. Taccani
in the cast. Pasta and Rubini surpassed themselves in the splendor of their performance.
"Emulating each other in wishing to display the
merits of the opera, they were both equally successful," said a critic of the day, "and those who
participated in the delight of hearing them will
never forget the magic effect of their execution.
But exquisite as were, undoubtedly, Mine. Pasta's
vocal exertions, her histrionic powers, if possible,
surpassed them. It would be difficult for those
who have seen her represent, in Donizetti's excellent opera, the unfortunate Amina, with a grandeur and a dignity above all praise, to conceive
that she could so change (if the expression may
be allowed) her nature as to enact the part of a
simple country girl. But she has proved her
powers to be unrivaled; she personates a simple



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193

rustic as easily as she identifies herself with.Medea, Semiramide, Tancredi, and Anna Bolena."
IV.
AFTER an absence of three years Mme. Pasta
returned to England, and her opening performance
of Medea was aided by the talents of Rubini,
Lablache, and Fanny Ayton. Rubini performed
the character of Egeus, and the duets between
the king of tenors and Pasta were so remarkable
in a musical sense as to rival the dramatic impression made by her great acting. She was no
exception to the rule that very great tragic actors
are rarely devoid of a strong comic individuality.
In Erreco's "Prova d'un Opera Seria," an opera
caricaturing the rehearsals of a serious opera at
the house of the prima donna and at the theatre,
her performance was so arch, whimsical, playful,
and capricious, that its drollery kept the audience
in a roar of laughter, while Lablache, as "the
composer," seconded her humor by that talent for
comedy which Ronconi alone has ever approached.
Lablache also appeared with Pasta in "Anna
Bolena," and the great basso, mighty in bulk,
mighty in voice, and mighty in genius, fairly
startled the public by his extraordinary resemblance to Holbein's portrait of Henry VIII.
After singing a farewell engagement in Paris, Mme. Pasta went to Milan to enjoy the last
great triumph of her life in 1832 at La Scala.



194

GREAT SINGERS.

She was supported by an admirable company,
among whom were Donizetti the tenor and Giulia
Grisi, then youthful and inexperienced, but giving promise of what she became in her splendid
prime of beauty and genius. Bellini had written
for these artists the opera of " Norma," and the
first performance was directed by the composer
himself. Pasta's singing and acting alone made
the work successful, for at the outset it was not
warmly liked by the public. Several years afterward in London she also saved the work from
becoming a fiasco, the singular fact being that
" Norma," now one of the great standard works
of the lyric stage, took a number of years to establish itself firmly in critical and popular estimation.
We have now reached a period of Pasta's life
where its chronicle becomes painful. It is never
pleasant to watch the details of the decadence
which comes to almost all art-careers. Her warmest admirers could not deny that Pasta was losing
her voice. Her consummate art shone undimmed,
but her vocal powers, especially in respect of intonation, displayed the signs of wear. For several years, indeed, she sang in Paris, Italy, and
London with great clat, but the indescribable
luster of her singing had lost its bloom and freshness. She continued to receive Continental honors,
and in 1840, after a splendid season in St. Petersburg, she was dismissed by the Czar with mag


GIUDITTA PASTA.

1950

nificent presents. In Berlin, about this time, she
was received with the deepest interest and commiseration, for she lost nearly all her entire fortune by the failure of Engmtiller, a banker of
Vienna. She filled a long engagement in Berlin,
which was generously patronized by the public,
not merely out of admiration of the talents of
the artist, but with the wish of repairing in some
small measure her great losses. After 1841 Pasta
retired from the stage, spending her winters at
Milan, her summers at Lake Como, and devoting
herself to training pupils in the higher walks of
the lyric art.
We can not better close this sketch than by
giving an account of one of the very last public
appearances of her life, when she allowed herself to be seduced into giving a concert in London
for the benefit of the Italian cause. Mme. Pasta
had long since dismissed all the belongings of
the stage, and her voice, which at its best had
required ceaseless watching and study, had been
given up by her. Even her person had lost all
that stately dignity and queenliness which had
made her stage appearance so remarkable.       It
was altogether a painful and disastrous occasion.
There were artists present who then for the first
time were to get their impression of a great singer, prepared of course to believe that that reputation had been exaggerated. Among these was
Rachel, who sat enjoying the humiliation of de


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cayed grandeur with a cynical and bitter sneer on
her face, drawing the attention of the theatre by
her exhibition of satirical malevolence.
Malibran's great sister, Mme. Pauline Viardot, was also present, watching with the quick,
sympathetic response of a noble heart every turn
of the singer's voice and action. Hoarse, broken,
and destroyed as was the voice, her grand style
spoke to the sensibilities of the great artist. The
opera was "Anna Bolena," and from time to
time the old spirit and fire burned in her tones
and gestures. In the final mad scene Pasta rallied into something like her former grandeur
of acting; and in the last song with its roulades
and its scales of shakes ascending by a semitone, this consummate vocalist and tragedienne,
able to combine form with meaning-dramatic
grasp and insight with such musical display as
enter into the lyric art-was indicated at least to
the apprehension of the younger artist. "You
are right! " was Mme. Viardot's quick and heartfelt response to a friend by her side, while her
eyes streamed with tears-" you are right. It is
like the 'Cenacolo' of Leonardo da Vinci at Milan, a wreck of a picture, but the picture is the
greatest picture in the world."



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197

HENRIETTA SONTAG.
The Greatest German Singer of the Century.-Her Characteristics
as an Artist.-Her Childhood and Early Training.-Her Early
Appearances in Weimar, Berlin, and Leipsic.-She becomes
the Idol of the Public.-Her Charms as a Woman and Romantic Incidents of her Youth.-Becomes affianced to Count
Rossi.-Prejudice against her in Paris, and her Victory over
the Public Hostility.-She becomes the Pet of Aristocratic
Salons.-Rivalry with Malibran.-Her Debut in London,
where she is welcomed with Great Enthusiasm. -Returns to
Paris.-Anecdotes of her Career in the French Capital.-She
becomes reconciled with Malibran in London.-Her Secret
Marriage with Count Rossi.-She retires from the Stage as
the Wife of an Ambassador.-Return to her Profession after
Eighteen Years of Absence.-The Wonderful Success of her
Youth renewed.-Her American Tour.-Attacked with Cholera in Mexico and dies.
I.
THE career of Henrietta Sontag, born at Coblenz on the Rhine in 1805, the child of actors,
was so picturesque in its chances and changes that
had she not been a beautiful and fascinating woman and the greatest German singer of the century, the vicissitudes of her life would have furnished rich material for a romance. Nature gave
her a pure soprano voice of rare and delicate
quality united with incomparable sweetness. Essentially a singer and not a declamatory artist, the
sentiment of grace was carried to such a height
in her art, that it became equivalent to the more
robust passion and force which distinguished some



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GREAT SINGERS.

of her great contemporaries. As years perfected
her excellence into its mellow prime, emotion and
warmth animated her art work. But at the outset Mlle. Sontag did little more than look lovely
and pour forth such a flood of silvery and delicious notes, that the Italians called her the
"nightingale of the North."    The fanatical enthusiasm of the German youth ran into wild excesses, and we hear of a party of university students drinking her health at a joyous supper in
champagne out of one of her satin shoes stolen
for the purpose.
When Mlle. Sontag commenced her brilliant
career the taste of operatic amateurs was excessively fastidious. Nearly all outside of Germany
shared Frederick the Great's prejudice against
German singers. Yet when she appeared in Paris,
in spite of hostile anticipation, in spite of her reserve, timidity, and coldness on the histrionic side
of her art, she soon made good her place by the
side of such remarkable artists as Mme. Pasta
and Maria Malibran. She never transformed herself into an impassioned tragedienne, but through
the spell of great personal attraction, of an exquisite voice, and of exceptional sensibility, taste, and
propriety in her art methods, she advanced herself
to a high place in public favor.
Her parents designed Henrietta for their own
profession, and in her eighth year her voice had acquired such steadiness that she sang minor parts



HENRIETTA SONTAG.

199

at the theatre. A distinguished traveler relates
having heard her sing the grand aria of the Queen
of the Night in the " Zauberfl6te" at this age, " her
arms hanging beside her and her eye following
the flight of a butterfly, while her voice, pure, penetrating, and of angelic tone, flowed as unconsciously as a limpid rill from the mountain-side." The
year after this Henrietta lost her father, and she
went to Prague with her mother, where she played
children's parts under Weber, then chef d'orchestre. When she had attained the proper age she
was admitted to the Prague Conservatory, and
spent four years studying vocalization, the piano,
and the elements of harmony. An accident gave
the young singer the chance for a dcbut in the
sudden illness of the prima donna, who was cast
to sing the part of the Princesse de Navarre in
Boieldieu's "Jean de Paris." The little vocalist of
fifteen had to wear heels four inches high, but she
sang none the less well, and the audience seemed
to feel that they had heard a prodigy. She also
took the part of the heroine in Paer's opera of
"Sargino," and her brilliant success decided hei
career, as she was invited to take a position in
the Viennese Opera. Here she met the brilliant
Mme. Fodor, then singing an engagement in the
Austrian capital. So great was this distinguished
singer's admiration of the young girl's talents
that she said, " Had I her voice I should hold the
whole world at my feet."



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Mile. Sontag had the advantage at this period
of singing with great artists who took much interest in her career and gave her valuable hints
and help.   Singing alternately in German and
English opera, and always an ardent student of
music, she learned to unite all the brilliancy of the
Italian style and method to the solidity of the
German school. The beautiful young cantatrice
was beset with ardent admirers, not the least important being the English Ambassador Earl Clan
William. He followed her to theatre, to convents,
church, and seemed like her shadow. Sontag in
German means Sunday; so the Viennese wits, then
as now as wicked and satirical as those of Paris,
nicknamed the nobleman Earl Montag, as Monday
always follows Sunday. It was during this Vienna engagement that Weber wrote the opera of
" Euryanthe," and designed the principal part for
Sontag. But the public failed to fancy it, and
called it " L'Ennuyante." The serious part of her
art life commenced at Leipsic in 1824, where she
interpreted the " Freisch-itz " and "Euryanthe,"
then in the flush of newness, and made a reputation that passed the bounds of Germany, though
foreign critics discredited the reports of her excellence till they heard her.
"1Henrietta's voice was a pure soprano, reaching perhaps from A or B to D in alt, and, though
uniform in its quality, it was a little reedy in the
lower notes, but its flexibility was marvelous: in



HENRIETTA SONTAG.

201

the high octave, from F to C in alt, her notes rang
out like the tones of a silver bell. The clearness
of her notes, the precision of her intonation, the
fertility of her invention, and the facility of her
execution, were displayed in brilliant flights and
lavish fioriture; her rare flexibility being a natural gift, cultivated by taste and incessant study.
It was to the example of Mme. Fodor that Mlle.
Sontag was indebted for the blooming of those
dormant qualities which had till then reiained
undeveloped. The ease with which she sang was
perfectly captivating; and the neatness and elegance of her enunciation combined with the sweetness and brilliancy of her voice and her perfect
intonation to render her execution faultless, and
its effect ravishing. She appeared to sing with
the volubility of a bird, and to experience the
pleasure she imparted." To use the language of
a critic of that day: "All passages are alike to
her, but she has appropriated some that were
hitherto believed to belong to instruments-to
the piano-forte and the violin, for instance. Arpeggios and chromatic scales, passages ascending
and descending, she executed in the same manner
that the ablest performers on these instruments
execute them. There were the firmness and the
neatness that appertain to the piano-forte, while
she would go through a scale staccato with the
precision of the bow. Her great art, however, lay
in rendering whatever she did pleasing. The ear



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was never disturbed by a harsh note. The velocity
of her passages was sometimes uncontrollable, for
it has been observed that in a division, say, of four
groups of quadruplets, she would execute the first
in exact time, the second and third would increase
in rapidity so much that in the fourth she was
compelled to decrease the speed perceptibly, in
order to give the band the means of recovering
the time she had gained."
Mile. Sontag was of middle height, beautifully
formed, and had a face beaming with sensibility,
delicacy, and modesty.    Beautiful light-brown
hair, large blue eyes, finely molded mouth, and
perfect teeth completed an ensemble little short of
bewitching. Her elegant figure and the delicacy
of her features were matched by hands and feet
of such exquisite proportions that sculptors besought the privilege of modeling them, and poets
raved about them in their verses. Artlessness
and naivete were joined with such fine breeding
of manner that it seemed as if the blue blood of
centuries must have coursed in her veins instead of
the blood of obscure actors, whose only honor was
to have given to the world one of the paragons of
song. Sontag never aspired to the higher walks of
lyric tragedy, as she knew her own limitation, but
in light and elegant comedy, the Rosinas and Susannas, she has never been excelled, whether as
actress or singer. It was said of her that she
could render with equal skill the works of Ros


HENRIETTA SONTAG.

203

sini, Mozart, Weber, and Spohr, uniting the originality of her own people with the artistic method
and facility of the French and Italian schools.
From Leipsic Mile. Sontag went to Berlin, where
the demonstrations of delight which greeted her
singing rose to fever-heat as the performances
continued. Expressions of rapture greeted her on
the streets; even the rigid etiquette of the Prussian court gave way to receive the low-born singer as a royal guest, an honor which all the aristocratic houses were prompt to emulate. It was at
Berlin that Sontag made the acquaintance of
Count Rossi, a Piedmontese nobleman attached
to the Sardinian Legation. An ardent attachment
sprang up between them, and they became afflianced.
Not content with her supremacy at home, she
sighed for other worlds to conquer, and after two
years at Berlin she obtained leave of absence with
great difficulty, and went to Paris. French connoisseurs laughed at the idea of this German barbarian-for some of the critics were rude enough
to use this harsh term-becoming the rival of
Pasta, Cinti, and Fodor, and the idea of her singing Rossini's music seemed purely preposterous.
On the 15th of June, 1826, she made her bow to the
French public. The victory was partly won by
the shy, blushing beauty of the young German,
who seemed the very incarnation of maidenly
modesty and innocence, and when she had finished
18



204,

GREAT SINGERS.

her first song thunders of applause shook the
house. Her execution of Rode's variations surpassed even that of Catalani, and " La Petite Allemande " became an instant favorite. Twenty-three
succeeding concerts made Henrietta Sontag an
idol of the Paris public, which she continued to be
during her art career. She also appeared with
brilliant distinction in opera, the principal ones
being "Il Barbiere," "La Donna del Lago," and
"L'Italiani in Alghieri."  Her benefit-night was
marked by a demonstration on the part of her
admirers, and she was crowned on the stage.
II.
THE beautiful singer became a great pet of the
Parisian aristocracy, and was welcomed in the
highest circles, not simply as an artist, but as a
woman. She was honored with a state dinner at
the Prussian Ambassador's, and the most distinguished people were eager to be presented to her.
At the house of Talleyrand, having been introduced to the Duchess von Lothringen, that haughty dame said, " I would not desire that my daughter were other than you." It was almost unheard
of that a German cantatrice without social antecedents should be sedulously courted by the most
brilliant women of rank and fashion, and her
presence sought as an ornament at the most exclusive salons. It was at this time that Catalani
met her and declared, " Elle est la premire cle son



HENRIETTA SONTAG.

205

genre, mais son genre n'est ras le premier," and a
celebrated flute-player on her being introduced to
him by a musical professor was accosted with the
words, " Ecco ii tuo rivale."
In Paris, as was the case afterward in London,
the most romantic stories were in circulation about
the adoration lavished on her by princes and bankers, artists and musicians. The most exalted personages were supposed to be sighing for her love,
and it was reported that no singer had ever had
so many offers of marriage from people of high
rank and consideration. Indeed, it was well known
that about the same time Charles de Beriot, the
great violinist, and a nobleman of almost princely
birth, laid their hearts and hands at her feet.
Mlle. Sontag, it need not be said, was true to her
promise to Count Rossi, and refused all the flattering overtures made her by her admirers. A
singular link connects the careers of Sontag and
Malibran personally as well as musically. It was
during the early melancholy and suffering of De
Beriot at Sontag's rejection of his love that he first
met Malibran. His profound dejection aroused
her sympathy, and she exerted herself to soothe
him and rouse him from his state of languor and
lassitude. The result can easily be fancied. De
Beriot's heart recovered from the shock, and was
kindled into a fresh flame by the consolations of
the beautiful and gifted Spanish singer, whence
ensued a connection which was consummated in



206

GREAT SINGERS.

marriage as soon as Malibran was able to break
the unfortunate tie into which she had been inveigled in America.
The Parisian managers offered the most extravagant terms to keep the new favorite of the
public, but her heart and duty alike prompted her
to return to Berlin. On the route, at the different
towns where she sang, she was received with brilliant demonstrations of admiration and respect,
and it was said at the time that her return journey on this occasion was such a triumphal march
as has rarely been vouchsafed to an artist, touching in the spontaneity of its enthusiasm as it was
brilliant and impressive in its forms. Berlin welcomed her with great warmth, and, though Catalani herself was among the singers at the theatre,
Sontag fully shared her glory in the German estimation. The King made her first singer at his
chapel, at a yearly salary of twenty-four thousand
francs, and rich gifts were showered on her by
her hosts of wealthy and ardent admirers.
She sang again in Paris in 1828, appearing in
"La Cenerentola" as a novelty, though the music
had to be transposed for her. Malibran was singing the same season, and a bitter rivalry sprang up
between the blonde and serene German beauty and
the brilliant Spanish brunette. It was whispered
afterward, by those who knew Malibran well, that
she never forgave Henrietta Sontag for having
been the first to be beloved by De Beriot. The



HENRIETTA. SONTAG.

207

voices of the two singers differed as much as their
persons. The one was distinguished for exquisite
sweetness and quality of tone, and perfection of
execution, for a polished and graceful correctness
which never did anything alien to good taste and
made finish of form compensate for lack of fire.
The other's splendid voice was marred by irregularity and unevenness, but possessed a passionate
warmth in its notes which stirred the hearts of
the hearers. Full of extraordinary expedients, an
audience was always dazzled by some unexpected beauties of Malibran's performance, and her
original and daring conceptions gave her work
a unique character which set her apart from her
contemporaries. The Parisian public took pleasure in fomenting the dispute between the rival
queens of song, and each one was spurred to the
utmost by the hot discord which raged between
them.
On April 16th of the same year Mlle. Sontag
made her first appearance before the London public in the character of Rosina in Rossini's " II
Barbiere," a part peculiarly suited to the grace of
her style and the timbre of her voice. One of her
biographers thus sketches the expectations and
impressions of the London public:
"Since Mrs. Billington, never had such high
promise been made, or so much expectation excited: her talents had been exaggerated by report,
and her beauty and charms extolled as matchless;



208

GREAT SINGERS.

she was declared to possess all the qualities of
every singer in perfection, and as an actress to be
the very personification of grace and power. Stories of the romantic attachments of foreign princes
and English lords were afloat in all directions
she was going to be married to a personage of the
loftiest rank-to a German prince-to an ambassador; she was pursued by the ardent love of
men of fashion. Among other stories in circulation was one of a duel between two imaginary
rival candidates for a ticket of admission to her
performance; but the most affecting and trustworthy story was that of an early attachment between the beautiful Henrietta and a young student
of good family, which was broken off in consequence of his passion for gambling.
"Mlle. Sontag, before she appeared at the
opera, sang at the houses of Prince Esterhazy and
the Duke of Devonshire. An immense crowd assembled in front of the theatre on the evening of
her dEbut at the opera. The crush was dreadful;
and when at length the half-stifled crowd managed to find seats, 'shoes were held up in all directions to be owned.' The audience waited in
breathless suspense for the rising of the curtain;
and when the fair cantatrice appeared, the excited
throng could scarcely realize that the simple English-looking girl before them was the celebrated
Sontag. On recovering from their astonishment,
they applauded her warmly, and her lightness,



HENRIETTA SONTAG.

209

brilliancy, volubility, and graceful manner made
her at once popular. Her style was more florid
than that of any other singer in Europe, not even
excepting Catalani, whom she excelled in fluency,
though not in volume; and it was decided that
she resembled Fodor more than any other singer
-which was natural, as she had in early life
imitated that cantatrice. Her taste was so cultivated that the redundancy of ornament, especially
the obligato passages which the part of Rosina
presents, never, in her hands, appeared overcharged; and she sang the cavatina 'Una voce
poco fa' in a style as new as it was exquisitely
tasteful. 'Two passages, introduced by her in
this air, executed in a staccato manner, could not
have been surpassed in perfection by the spirited
bow of the finest violin-player.' In the lessonscene she gave Rode's variations, and her execution of the second variation in arpeggios was pronounced infinitely superior to Catalani's.
" At first the cognoscenti were haunted by a fear
that Sontag would permit herself to degenerate,
like Catalani, into a mere imitator of instrumental performers, and endeavor to astonish instead
of pleasing the public by executing such things
as Rode's variations. But it was soon observed
that, while indulging in almost unlimited luxuriance of embellishment in singing Rossini's music,
she showed herself a good musician, and never
fell into the fault, common with florid singers, of



210

GREAT SINGERS.

introducing ornaments at variance with the spirit
of the air or the harmony of the accomplishments.
In singing the music of Mozart or Weber, she
paid the utmost deference to the text, restraining
the exuberance of her fancy, and confining herself
within the limits set by the composer. Her success was tested by a most substantial proof of her
popularity-her benefit produced the enormous
sum of three thousand pounds."
Laurent, the manager of the The6tre Italien,
succeeded in making a contract by which Sontag
was to sing in Paris for fifty thousand francs
a year, with a conge of three months. It was at
this period that she commenced seriously to study
tragic characters, and, though she at first failed
in making a strong impression on her audiences,
her assiduous attention to sentiment and passion
wrought such fruits as to prove how far study
and good taste may create the effect of something
like inspiration, even on the part of an artist so
cool and placid as the great German cantatrice.
Her efforts were stimulated by the rivalry of Malibran, and this contest was the absorbing theme
of discussion in the Paris salons and journals.
It reached such a height that the two singers
refused to meet each other socially, and on the
stage when they sang together their jealousy and
dislike showed itself in the most undisguised
fashion. Among the incidents related of this interesting operatic episode, the following are spe


HENRIETTA SONTAG.

211

cially worthy of mention: An Italian connoisseur, who had never heard Sontag, and who firmly
believed that no German could sing, was induced
to go one night by a friend to a performance in
which she appeared. After listening five minutes
he started up hastily in act to go. " Stay," urged
his friend; "you will be convinced presently."
" I know it," replied the Italian, " and therefore I
go."
One evening, at the termination of the performance, the two rivals were called out, and a number of wreaths and bouquets were flung on the
stage. Malibran stooped and picked up one of
the coronals, supposing it designed for her, when
a stern voice cried out: "Rendez-1a; ce n'est pas
pour vous! "  " I would not deprive Mlle. Sontag
of a single wreath," said the haughty Spaniard in
a loud voice which could be heard everywhere
through the listening house. "I would sooner
bestow one on her."
This quarrel was afterward made up between
them when they were engaged together in London the following year, 1828. This reconciliation
was brought about by M. Fetis, who had accompanied them from Paris. He proposed to them
that they should sing for one of the pieces at a
concert in which they were both engaged, the duo
of Semircamide and Arsace, in Rossini's opera.
For the first time in London their voices were
heard together. Each outdid herself in the de


212

GREAT SINGERS.

sire to excel, and the exquisite fusion of the two
voices, so different in tone and character, was so
fine that the hearts of the rivals melted toward
each other, and they professed mutual friendship.
The London public got the benefit of this amity,
for the manager of the King's Theatre was able
to produce operas in which they sang together,
among them being " Semiramide," " Don Giovanni," "Nozze di Figaro," and " Romeo e Giulietta "-Malibran playing the hero in the latter opera. The following year Sontag also sang with
Malibran in London, her greatest success being in
Carolina, the principal character of Cimarosa's
" Il Matrimonio Segreto."
Mlle. Sontag was now for the first time assailed by the voice of calumny. Her union with
Count Rossi, consummated more than a year before, had been kept secret on account of the dislike of his family to the match. Born in Corsica,
Count Rossi was a near relative of the family of
Napoleon Bonaparte, and his sister was the Princess de Salm. His relations were opposed to his
marriage with one whom they considered a plebeian, though she had been ennobled by the
Prussian King, under the name of Von Lauenstein,
with a full patent and all the formalities observed
on such occasions. Mlle. Sontag determined to
make a farewell tour through Europe, and retire from the stage. She paid her adieux to her
public in the different great cities of Europe


HENRIETTA SONTAG.

213

London, Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg, Moscow,
Warsaw, Leipsic, etc.-with incredible success,
and the sums she realized are said to have been
enormous. On returning from Russia she gave a
concert at Hamburg; and it was here that she
took the occasion at a great banquet given her
by a wealthy merchant to make the public and
formal announcement of her marriage to Count
Rossi. It was remarked that during this farewell
concert tour her powers, far from having declined,
seemed to have gained in compass, brilliancy, and
expression.
Countess Rossi first lived at the Hague, and
then for a short time at Frankfort. Here she
took precedence of all the ladies of the diplomatic
corps, her husband being Minister Plenipotentiary
to the Germanic Diet. In Berlin she was a familiar guest of the royal family, and sang duets and
trios with the princes and princesses. She devoted
her leisure hours to the study of composition, and
at the houses of Prince Esterhazy and Prince Metternich, in 1841, at Vienna, she executed a cantata of her own for soprano and chorus with most
brilliant success. The Empress herself invited the
Countess to repeat it at her own palace with all
the imperial family for listeners. Thus courted
and flattered, possessed of ample wealth and rank,
idolized by her friends and respected by the great
world, Henrietta Sontag passed nearly twenty
swift, happy years at the different European cap


214

GREAT SINGERS.

itals to which her husband was successively accredited.
III.
COUNTESS ROSSI was never entirely forgotten in her brilliant retirement. Her story, gossips
said, was intended to be shadowed forth " with a
difference " in " L'Ambassadrice " of Scribe and
Auber, written for Mme. Cinti Damoreau, whose
voice resembled that of Sontag.       Travelers,
who got glimpses of the august life wherein
she lived, brought home tales of her popularity,
of her beauty not faded but only mellowed by
time, and of her lovely voice, which she had
watched and cultivated in her titled leisure. It
can be fancied, then, what a thrill of interest and
surprise ran through the London public when it
was announced in 1848 that the Countess Rossi,
owing to family circumstances, was about to resume her profession. A small, luxuriantly bound
book in green and gold, devoted to her former
and more recent history, was put on sale in London, and circulated like wildfire. The situation
in London was peculiar. Jenny Lind had created
a furor in that city almost unparalleled in its
musical history, and to announce that the " Swedish nightingale " was not the greatest singer that
ever lived or ever could live, before a company
of her admirers, was sufficient to invite personal
assault. Mile. Lind had just departed for Amer


HENRIETTA SONTAG.

215

ica. It was an adventure little short of desperate for a singer to emerge from a retirement of
a score of years and measure her musical and dramatic accomplishments against those of a predecessor whose tantalizing disappearance from
the stage had rendered her on so many grounds
more than ever the object of fanatical worship.
The political storm of 1848 had swept away
the fortune of Countess Rossi, and when she announced her intention of returning to the stage,
the director of Her Majesty's Theatre was prompt
to make her an offer of seventeen thousand pounds
for the season. She had not been idle or careless
during the time when the Grisis, the Persianis,
and the Linds were delighting the world with the
magic of their art. She had assiduously kept up
the culture of her delicious voice, and stepped
again before the foot-lights with all the ease,
steadiness, and aplomb of one who had never suffered an interregnum in her lyric reign. She
came back to the stage under new and trying
musical conditions, to an orchestra far stronger
than that to which her youth had been accustomed, to a new world of operas. The intrepidity and industry with which she met these difficulties are deserving of the greatest respect. Not
merely did she go through the entire range of her
old parts, Suscnnta, Rosina, Descdemona, Donna
Anna, etc., but she presented herself in a number
of new works which did not exist at her farewell
19



216

GREAT SINGERS.

to the stage-Bellini's " Sonnambula," Donizetti's
"Linda," " La Figlia del Reggimento," " Don Pasquale," " Le Tre Nozze" of Alary, and Halevy's
"La Tempesta "; indeed, in the latter two creating the principal rdles. Her former companions
had disappeared. Malibran had been dead for
thirteen years, Mme. Pisaroni had also departed
from the earthly scene, and a galaxy of new stars
were glittering in the musical horizon.   Giulia
Grisi, Clara Novello, Pauline Viardot, Fanny Persiani, Jenny Lind, Maretta Alboni, Nantier Didier,
Sophie Cruvelli, Catherine Hayes, Louisa Pyne,
Duprez, Mario, Ronconi, and others-all these
had arisen since the day she had left the art world
as Countess Rossi. Only the joyous and warmhearted Lablache was left of her old comrades to
welcome her back to the scene of her old triumphs.
Her reappearance as Linda, on July 7, 1849,
was the occasion of a cordial and sympathetic reception on the part of a very brilliant and distinguished audience. The first notes of the "polacca " were sufficient to show that the great artist
was in her true place again, and that the mature
woman had lost but little of the artistic fascinations of the gifted girl.  Of course, time had
robbed her of one or two upper notes, but the
skill, grace, and precision with which she utilized
every atom of her power, the incompa'rable steadiness and finish with which she wrought out the



HENRIETTA SONTAG.

217

composer's intentions, the marvelous flexibility of
her execution, she retained in all their pristine
excellence. The loss of youthful freshness was
atoned for by the deeper passion and feeling which
in an indefinable way permeated all her efforts,
and gave them a dramatic glow lacking in earlier
days.  She was rapturously greeted as a dear
friend come back in the later sunny days. In
"La Figlia del Reggimento," which Jenny Lind
had brought to England and made her own peculiar property, Mme. Sontag was adjudged to be
by far the greater, both vocally and dramatically.
As a singer of Mozart's music she was incomparably superior to all. Her taste, steadiness, suavity, and solid knowledge suited a style very difficult for a southern singer to acquire.  Chorley
repeated the musical opinion of his time in saying: "The easy, equable flow demanded by Mozart's compositions, so melodious, so wondrously
sustained, so sentimental (dare I say so rarely impassioned?); that assertion of individuality which
distinguishes a singer from a miiachine when dealing with singers' music; that charm which belongs to a keen appreciation of elegance, but which
can only be perfected when Nature has been genial, have never been so perfectly combined (in my
experience) as in her." If Sontag did not possess
the highest genius of the lyric artist, she had unequaled grace and sense of artistic propriety, and
with that grace an untiring desire and energy in



218

GREAT SINGERS.

giving her very best to the public on all occasions
when she appeared. Her constancy and loyalty
to her audience were moral qualities which wonderfully enhanced her value and charm as a singer.
During this season Mme. Sontag appeared in
her favorite character of Rosina, with Lablache
and Gardoni; she also performed Amina and
Desdemona. Had it not been that the attention
of the public was absorbed by " the Swedish Nightingale" and the "glorious Alboni," Mme. Sontag
would have renewed the triumphs of 1828. The
next season she sang again at Her Majesty's Theatre as NVorina, Elvira ("I Puritani "), Zerlina,
and MIaria (in "La Figlia del Reggimento ").
The chief novelty was "La Tempesta," written by
Scribe, and composed by Halevy expressly for
Her Majesty's Theatre, the drama having been
translated into Italian from the French original.
It was got up with extraordinary splendor, and
had a considerable run. Mme. Sontag sang charmingly in the character of Miranda; but the greatest effect was created by Lablache's magnificent
impersonation of Caliban. No small share of the
success of the piece was due to the famous danseuse Carlotta Grisi, who seemed to take the most
appropriate part ever designed for ballerina when
she undertook to represent Ariel.
At the close of the season of 1850 Mme. Sontag
went to Paris with Mr. Lumley, who took the Th6 -atre Italien, and she was warmly welcomed by her



HENRIETTA SONTAG.

219

French audiences.    "Even amid the loud applause with which the crowd greeted her appearance on the stage," says a French writer, "it was
easy to distinguish the respect which was entertained for the virtuous lady, the devoted wife and
mother."
Before her acceptance of the offer to go to
America, in 1852, she appeared in successive engagements at London, Vienna, and Berlin, where
her reception was of the most satisfying nature
both to the artist and the woman. On her arrival in New York, on September 19th, she commenced a series of concerts with Salvi and Signora Blangini. At New York, Boston, Philadelphia,
and the larger cities of the South, she quickly established herself as one of the greatest favorites
who had ever sung in this country, in spite of
the fact that people had hardly recovered from
the Lind mania which had swept the country like
wildfire, a fact apt to provoke petulant comparisons. Her pecuniary returns from her American
tour were very great, and she was enabled to buy
a chateau and domain in Germany, a home which
she was unfortunately destined never to enjoy.
In New Orleans, in 1854, she entered into an
engagement with M. Masson, director of opera in
the city of Mexico, to sing for a fixed period of
two months, with the privilege of three months
longer. This was the closing appearance in opera,
as she contemplated, for the task of reinstating



220

GREAT SINGERS.

her family fortunes was almost done. Fate fulfilled her expectations with a malign sarcasm; for
while her agent, M. Ullman, was absent in Europe
gathering a company, Mine. Sontag was seized
with cholera and died in a few hours, on June
17, 1854. Such was the lamentable end of one of
the noblest women that ever adorned the lyric
stage.  Her funeral was a magnificent one, in
presence of a great concourse of people, including
the diplomatic corps. The service was celebrated
by 'the orchestras of the two Italian theatres; the
nuns of St. Francis sang the cantata; the prayer to
the Virgin was intoned by the German Philharmonic Society, who also sang Lindpainter's chorus, "Ne m'oubliez pas"; and the leading Mexican poet, M. Pantaleon Tovar, declaimed a beautiful tribute in sonorous Spanish verse. The body
was taken to Germany and buried in the abbey
of Makenstern, in Lausitz.

THE END.













DATE DUE

FEB 141'983
FEB 21
RCNOV  2_1__94
JA~iN  7 00,



UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 00783 0873
Music
ML      Ferris, G
400       Great singers....F39
1892
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