Pauline Garcia"s voice was a rebel which she had had to subdue, not a va.s.sal to command, like the glorious organ of Mme. Grisi, but her harsh and unmanageable notes had been tutored by a despotic drill into great beauty and pliancy. Like that of her sister in quality, it combined the two registers of contralto and soprano from low F to C above the lines, but the upper part of an originally limited mezzo-soprano had been literally fabricated by an iron discipline, conducted by the girl herself with all the science of a master. Like Malibran, too, she had in her voice the soul-stirring tone, the sympathetic and touching character by which the heart is thrilled. Her singing was expressive, descriptive, thrilling, full, equal and just, brilliant and vibrating, especially in the medium and in the lower chords. Capable of every style of art, it was adapted to all the feelings of nature, but particularly to outbursts of grief, joy, or despair. "The dramatic coloring which her voice imparts to the slightest shades of feeling and pa.s.sion is a real phenomenon of vocalization which can not be a.n.a.lyzed," says Escudier.
"No singer we ever heard, with the exception of Malibran," says another critic, "could produce the same effect by means of a few simple notes.
It is neither by the peculiar power, the peculiar depth, nor the peculiar sweetness of these tones that the sensation is created, but by something indescribable in the quality which moves you to tears in the very hearing."
Something of this impression moved the general mind of connoisseurs on her first dramatic appearance. Her style, execution, voice, expression, and manner so irresistibly reminded her fellow-performers of the lamented Malibran, that tears rolled down their cheeks, yet there was something radically different withal peculiar to the singer. This singular resemblance led to a curious incident afterward in Paris. A young lady was taking a music-lesson from Lablache, who had lodgings in the same house with Mlle. Garcia. The ba.s.so was explaining the manner in which Malibran gave the air they were practicing. Just then a voice was heard in the adjoining room singing the cavatina--the voice of Mdlle.
Garcia. The young girl was struck with a fit of superst.i.tious terror as if she had seen a phantom, and fainted away on her seat.
Yet in person there was but a slight resemblance between the two sisters. Pauline had a tall, slender figure in her youth, and her physiognomy, Jewish in its cast, though n.o.ble and expressive, was so far from being handsome that when at rest the features were almost harsh in their irregularity. But, as in the case of many plain women, emotion and sensibility would quickly transfigure her face into a marvelous beauty and fascination, far beyond the loveliness of line and tint. Her forehead was broad and intellectual, the hair jet-black, the complexion pale, the large, black eyes ardent and full of fire. Her carriage was singularly majestic and easy, and a conscious n.o.bility gave her bearing a loftiness which impressed all beholders.
Her singing and acting in _Desdemona_ made a marked sensation. Though her powers were still immature, she flooded the house with a stream of clear, sweet, rich melody, with the apparent ease of a bird. Undismayed by the traditions of Mali-bran, Pasta, and Sontag in this character, she gave the part a new reading, in which she put something of her own intense individuality. "By the firmness of her step, and the general confidence of her deportment," said a contemporary writer, "we were at first induced to believe that she was not nervous; but the improvement of every succeeding song, and the warmth with which she gave the latter part of the opera, convinced us that her power must have been confined by something like apprehension." Kubini was the _Otello_, Tamburini, _Iago_, and Lablache, _Elmiro_. Her performance in "La Cenerentola"
confirmed the good opinion of the public. Her pure taste and perfect facility of execution were splendidly exhibited. "She has," said a critic, "more feeling than Mme. Cinti Da-moreau in the part in which the greater portion of Europe has a.s.signed to her the preeminence, and execution even now in nearly equal perfection."
M. Viardot, a well-known French _litterateur_, was then director of the Italian Opera in Paris, and he came to London to hear the new singer--in whom he naturally felt a warm interest, as he had been an intimate personal friend of Mme. Malibran. He was so delighted that he offered her the position of prima donna for the approaching season, but the timidity of the young girl of eighteen shrank from such a responsibility, and she would only bind herself to appear for a few nights. The French public felt a strong curiosity to hear the sister of Mali-bran, and it was richly rewarded, for the magnificent style in which she sang her parts in "Otello," "La Cenerentola," and "Il Barbiere" stamped her position as that not only of a great singer, but a woman of genius. The audacity and wealth of resource which she displayed on the first representation of the latter-named opera wore worthy of the daughter of Garcia and the sister of Malibran, Very imperfectly acquainted with the music, she forgot an important part of the score.
Without any embarra.s.sment, she instantly improvised not merely the ornament, but the melody, pouring out a flood of dazzling vocalization which elicited noisy enthusiasm. It was not Rossini"s "Il Barbiere," but it was successful in arousing a most flattering approbation. It may be fancied, however, that, when she sang the _role_ of _Rosina_ a second time, she knew the music as Rossini wrote it.
III.
Mlle. Garcia was now fairly embarked on the hereditary profession of her family, and with every prospect of a brilliant career, for never had a singer at the very outset so signally impressed herself on the public judgment, not only as a thoroughly equipped artist, but as a woman of original genius. But she temporarily retired from the stage in consequence of her marriage with M. Viardot, who had fallen deeply in love with the fascinating cantatrice, shortly after his introduction to her. The bridegroom resigned his position as manager of the Opera, and the newly married couple, shortly after their nuptials in the spring of 1840, proceeded to Italy, M. Viardot being intrusted with an important mission relative to the fine arts. Mme. Viardot did not return to the stage till the spring of the following year. After a short season in London, in which she made a deep and abiding impression, in the part of _Orazia_ ("Gli Orazi ed i Curiazi"), and justified her right to wear the crown of Pasta and Malibran, she was obliged by considerations of health to return to the balmier climate of Southern Europe.
While traveling in Spain, the native land of her parents, she was induced to sing in Madrid, where she was welcomed with all the warmth of Spanish enthusiasm. Her amiability was displayed during her performance of _Desdemona_, the second opera presented. Pleased with the unrestrained expressions of delight by the audience, she voluntarily sang the _rondo finale_ from "Cenerentola." There was such a magic spell on the audience that they could not be prevailed upon to leave, though Mme. Viardot sang again and again for them. At last the curtain fell and the orchestra departed, but the crowd would not leave the theatre.
The obliging cantatrice, though fatigued, directed a piano-forte to be wheeled to the front of the stage, and sang, to her own accompaniment, two Spanish airs and a French romance, a crowning act of grace which made her audience wild with admiration and pleasure. An immense throng escorted her carriage from the theatre to the hotel, with a tumult of _vivas_. During this Spanish tour she appeared in opera in several towns outside of the capital, in the important pieces of her repertoire, including "Il Barbiere" and "Norma," operas entirely opposed to each other in style, but in both of which she was favorably judged in comparison with the greatest representatives of these characters.
When this singer first appeared, every throne on the lyric stage seemed to be filled by those who sat firm, and wore their crowns right regally by the grace of divine gifts, as well as by the election of the people.
There seemed to be no manifest place for a new aspirant, no niche unoccupied. But within three years" time Mme. Viardot"s exalted rank among the great singers of the age was no less a.s.sured than if she had queened it over the public heart for a score of seasons, and in her endowment as an artist was recognized a bounteous wealth of gifts to which none of her rivals could aspire. Her resources appeared to be without limit; she knew every language to which music is sung, every style in which music can be written with equal fluency. All schools, whether ancient or modern, severe or florid, sacred or profane, severely composed or gayly fantastic, were easily within her grasp.
Like Malibran, she was a profoundly scientific musician, and possessed creative genius. Several volumes of songs attest her inventive skill in composition, and the instances of her musical improvisation on the stage are alike curious and interesting. Such unique and lavish qualities as these placed the younger daughter of Garcia apart from all others, even as the other daughter had achieved a peculiarly original place in her time. Like Lablache, in his ba.s.so _roles_, Mme. Viardot, by her genius completely revolutionized, both in dramatic conception and musical rendering, many parts which had almost become stage traditions in pa.s.sing through the hands of a series of fine artists. But the fresher insight of a vital originating imagination breathed a more robust and subtile life into old forms, and the models thus set appear to be imperishable. It has been more than hinted by friends of the composer Meyerbeer, that, when his life is read between the lines, it will be known that he owes a great debt to Pauline Viardot for suggestions and criticism in one of his greatest operas, as it is well known that he does to the tenor, Adolphe Nourrit, for some of the finest features of "Robert le Diable" and "Les Huguenots."
In October, 1842, Mme. Viardot made her reappearance on the French stage at the Theatre Italien as _Arsace_ in "Semiramide," supported by Mme.
Grisi and Tamburini. There was at this time such a trio of singers as is rarely found at any one theatre, Pauline Viardot, Giulia Grisi, and f.a.n.n.y Persiani, each one possessing voice and talent of the highest character in her own peculiar sphere. Not the smallest share of the honors gathered by these artists came to Mme. Viardot who had for intelligent and thoughtful connoisseurs a charm more subtile and binding than that exercised by any of her rivals. At the close of the Paris season she proceeded to Vienna, where her artistic gifts were highly appreciated, and thence to Berlin, where Meyerbeer was then engaged in composing his "Prophete." The dramatic conception of _Fides_, it may be said in pa.s.sing, was expressly designed for Pauline Viardot by the composer, who had the most exalted esteem for her genius, both as a musician and tragedienne. She was always a great favorite in Germany, and Berlin and Vienna vied with each other in their admiration of this gifted woman. In 1844 she stirred the greatest enthusiasm by singing at Vienna with Ilonconi, a singer afterward frequently a.s.sociated with her.
Perhaps at no period of her life, though, did Mme. Viardot create a stronger feeling than when she appeared in Berlin in the spring of 1847 as _Rachel_ in Halevy"s "La Juive." It was a German version, but the singer was perfect mistress of the language, and though the music of the opera was by no means well suited to the character of her voice, its power as a dramatic performance and the pa.s.sion of the singing established a complete supremacy over all cla.s.ses of hearers. The exhibition on the part of this staid and phlegmatic German community was such as might only be predicated of the volcanic temperament of Rome or Naples. The roar of the mult.i.tude in front of her lodgings continued all night, and it was dawn before she was able to retire to rest.
The versatility and kind heart of Mme. Viardot were ill.u.s.trated in an occurrence during this Berlin engagement. She had been announced as _Alice_ in "Robert le Diable," when the _Isabella_ of the evening, Mlle.
Tuezck, was taken ill. The _impressario_ tore his hair in despair, for there was no singer who could be subst.i.tuted, and a change of opera seemed to be the only option. Mme. Viardot changed the gloom of the manager to joy. Rather than disappoint the audience, she would sing both characters. This she did, changing her costume with each change of scene, and representing in one opera the opposite _roles_ of princess and peasant. One can imagine the effect of this great feat on that crowded Berlin audience, who had already so warmly taken Pauline Viardot to their hearts. Berlin, Vienna, Hamburg, Dresden, Frankfort, Leipsic, and other German cities were the scenes of a series of triumphs, and everywhere there was but one voice as to her greatness as an artist, an excellence not only great, but unique of its kind. Her repertoire at this time consisted of _Desdemona, Cenerentola, Rosina, Camilla (in "Gli Orazi"), Arsace, Norma, Ninetta, Amina, Romeo, Lucia, Maria di Rohan, Leonora ("La Favorita" ), Zerlina, Donna Anna, Iphigenie (Gluck), the Rachel of Halevy, and the Alice and Valentine of Meyerbeer_.
IV.
Mme. Viardot"s high position on the operatic stage of course brought her into intimate a.s.sociation with the leading singers of her age, some of whom have been mentioned in previous sketches. But there was one great tenor of the French stage, Nourrit, who, though he died shortly after Mme. Viardot"s entrance on her lyric career, yet bore such relation to the Garcia family as to make a brief account of this gifted artist appropriate under this caption. Adolphe Nourrit, of whom the French stage is deservedly proud, was the pupil of Manuel Garcia, the intimate friend of Maria Malibran, and the judicious adviser of Pauline Viardot in her earlier years. The son of a tenor singer, who united the business of a diamond broker with the profession of music, young Nourrit received a good cla.s.sical education, and was then placed in the Conservatoire, where he received a most thorough training in the science of music, as well as in the art of singing. It was said of him in after-years that he was able to write a libretto, compose the music to it, lead the orchestra, and sing the tenor role in it, with equal facility. His first appearance was in Gluck"s "Iphigenie en Tauride," in 1821, his age then being nineteen. Gifted with remarkable intelligence and ambition, he worked indefatigably to overcome his defects of voice, and perfect his equipment as an artist. Manuel Garcia, the most scientific and exacting of singing teachers, was the _maestro_ under whom Nourrit acquired that large and n.o.ble style for which he became eminent. He soon became princ.i.p.al tenor at the Academie, and created all of the leading tenor roles of the operas produced in France for ten years. Among these may be mentioned _Neocles_ in "La Siege de Corinthe," _Masaniello_ in "La Muette de Portici,"_Arnold_ in "Guillaume Tell," _Leonardo da Vinci_ in Ginestell"s "Francois I," _Un Lnconnu_ in "Le Dieu et la Bayadere,"
_Robert le Diable, Edmond_ in "La Serment," _Nadir_ in Cherubini"s "Ali Baba," _Eleazar_ in "La Juive," _Raoul_ in "Les Huguenots," _Phobus_ in Bertini"s "La Esmeralda," and _Stradella_ in Niedermeyer"s opera.
Nourrit gave a distinct stamp and a flavor to all the parts he created, and his comedy was no less refined and pleasing than his tragedy was pathetic and commanding. He was idolized by the public, and his influence with them and with his brother artists was great. He was consulted by managers, composers, and authors. He wrote the words for Eleazar"s fine air in "La Juive," and furnished the suggestions on which Meyerbeer remodeled the second and third acts of "Robert le Diable" and the last act of "Les Huguenots." The libretti for the ballets of "La Sylphide," "La Tempete," "L"ile des Pirates," "Le Diable Boiteux," etc., as danced by Taglioni and f.a.n.n.y Elssler, were written by this versatile man, and he composed many charming songs, which are still favorites in French drawing-rooms. It was Nourrit who popularized the songs of Schubert, and otherwise softened the French prejudice against modern German music. In private life this great artist was so witty, genial, and refined, that he was a favorite guest in the most distinguished and exclusive _salons_. When Duprez was engaged at the opera it severely mortified Nourrit, and, rather than divide the honors with a new singer, he resigned his position as first tenor at the Academie, where he so long had been a brilliant light. His farewell to the French public, April 1, 1837, was the most flattering and enthusiastic ovation ever accorded to a French artist, but he could not be induced to reconsider his purpose. He was professor of lyric declamation at the Conservatoire, but this position, too, he resigned, and went away with the design of making a musical tour through France, Germany, and Italy. Nourrit, who was subject to alternate fits of excitement and depression, was maddened to such a degree by a series of articles praising Duprez at his expense, that his friends feared for his sanity, a dread which was ominously realized in Italy two years afterward, where Nourrit was then singing.
Though he was very warmly welcomed by the Italians, his morbid sensibility took offense at Naples at what he fancied was an unfavorable opinion of his _Pollio_ in "Norma." His excitement resulted in delirium, and he threw himself from his bedroom window on the paved court-yard below, which resulted in instant death. Nourrit was the intimate friend of many of the most distinguished men of the age in music, literature, and art, and his sad death caused sincere national grief.
As a singer and actor, Nourrit had one of the most creative and originating minds of his age. He himself never visited the United States, but his younger brother, Auguste, was a favorite tenor in New York thirty years ago.
The part of _John of Leyden_ in "Le Prophete," whose gestation covered many years of growth and change, was originally written for and in consultation with Nourrit, just as that of Fides in the same opera was remolded for and by suggestion of Pauline Viardot. Yet the opera did not see the light until Nourrit"s successor, Duprez, had vanished from the stage, and his successor again, Roger, who, though a brilliant singer, was far inferior to the other two in creative intellectuality, appeared on the scene. Chorley a.s.serts that Du-prez was the only artist he had ever seen and heard whose peculiar qualities and excellences would have enabled him to do entire musical and dramatic justice to the arduous part of _John of Leyden_.... "I have never seen anything like a complete conception of the character, so wide in its range of emotions; and might have doubted its possibility, had I not remembered the admirable, subtile, and riveting dramatic treatment of _Eleazar_ in "La Juive" (the _Shyloch_ of opera) by M. Duprez."
This artist may be also included as belonging largely to the sphere of Pauline Viardot"s art-life. Albert Duprez, the son of a French performer, was born in 1806, and, like his predecessor Nourrit, was a student at the Conservatoire. At first he did not succeed in operatic singing, but, recognizing his own faults and studying the great models of the day, among them Nourrit, whom he was destined to supplant, he finally impressed himself on the public as the leading dramatic singer of France. According to Fetis and Castil-Blaze, he never had a superior in stage declamation, and the finest actors of the Comedie Francaise might well have taken a lesson from him. His first great success, which caused his engagement in grand opera, was the creation of _Edgardo_ in "Lucia di Lammermoor" at Naples in 1835.
Two years later he made his _debut_ at the Academie in "Guillaume Tell," and his novel and striking reading of his part on this occasion contributed largely to his fame. He was a leading figure at this theatre for twelve years, and was the first representative of many important tenor roles, among which may be mentioned those of "Benvenuto Cellini,"
"Les Martyrs," "La Favorita," "Dom Sebastien," "Otello," and "Lucia."
Duprez was insignificant, even repellent in his appearance, but, in spite of these defects, his tragic pa.s.sion and the splendid intelligence displayed in his vocal art gave him a deserved prominence. Duprez composed many songs and romances, chamber-music, two ma.s.ses, and eight operas, and was the author of a highly esteemed musical method, which is still used at the Conservatoire, where he was a professor of singing.
Another name linked with not a few of Mme. Viardot"s triumphs is that of Ronconi, a name full of pleasant recollections, too, for many of the opera-goers of the last generation in the United States. There have been only a few lyric actors more versatile and gifted than he, or who have achieved their rank in the teeth of so many difficulties and disadvantages. His voice was limited in compa.s.s, inferior in quality, and habitually out of tune, his power of musical execution mediocre, his physical appearance entirely without grace, picturesqueness, or dignity.
Yet Ronconi, by sheer force of a versatile dramatic genius, delighted audiences in characters which had been made familiar to the public through the splendid personalities of Tamburini and Lablache, personalities which united all the attributes of success on the lyric stage--n.o.ble physique, grand voice, the highest finish of musical execution, and the actor"s faculty. What more unique triumph can be fancied than such a one violating all the laws of probability? Ronconi"s low stature and commonplace features could express a tragic pa.s.sion which could not be exceeded, or an exuberance of the wildest, quaintest, most spontaneous comedy ever born of mirth"s most airy and tameless humor. Those who saw Ronconi"s acting in this country saw the great artist as a broken man, his powers partly wrecked by the habitual dejection which came of domestic suffering and professional reverses, but spasmodic gleams of his old energy still lent a deep interest to the work of the artist, great even in his decadence. In giving some idea of the impression made by Ronconi at his best, we can not do better than quote the words of an able critic: "There have been few such examples of terrible courtly tragedy in Italian opera as Signor Ronconi"s _Chevreuse_, the polished demeanor of his earlier scenes giving a fearful force of contrast to the latter ones when the torrent of pent-up pa.s.sion nears the precipice. In spite of the discrepancy between all our ideas of serious and sentimental music and the old French dresses, which we are accustomed to a.s.sociate with the _Dorantes_ and _Alcestes_ of Moliere"s dramas, the terror of the last scene when (between his teeth almost) the great artist uttered the line--"_Suir uscio tremendo lo sguardo figgiamo_"--clutching the while the weak and guilty woman by the wrist, as he dragged her to the door behind which her falsity was screened, was something fearful, a sound to chill the blood, a sight to stop the breath." This writer, in describing his performance of the part of the _Doge_ in Verdi"s "I Due Foscari," thus characterizes the last act when the Venetian chief refuses to pardon his own son for the crime of treason, faithful to Venice against his agonized affections as a father: "He looked sad, weak, weary, leaned back as if himself ready to give up the ghost, but, when the woman after the allotted bars of noise began again her second-time agony, it was wondrous to see how the old sovereign turned in his chair, with the regal endurance of one who says "I must endure to the end," and again gathered his own misery into his old father"s heart, and shut it up close till the woman ended. Unable to grant her pet.i.tion, unable to free his son, the old man when left alone could only rave till his heart broke. Signor Ronconi"s _Doge_ is not to be forgotten by those who do not regard art as a toy, or the singer"s art as something entirely distinct from dramatic truth."
His performance of the quack doctor _Dulcamara_, in "L"Elisir d"Amore,"
was no less amazing as a piece of humorous acting, a creation matched by that of the haggard, starveling poet in "Matilda di Shabran" and _Papageno_ in Mozart"s "Zauberflote." Anything more ridiculous and mirthful than these comedy _chef-d"ouvres_ could hardly be fancied. The same critic quoted above says: "One could write a page on his _Barber_ in Rossini"s master-work; a paragraph on his _Duke_ in "Lucrezia Borgia," an exhibition of dangerous, suspicious, sinister malice such as the stage has rarely shown; another on his _Podesta_ in "La Gazza Ladra"
(in these two characters bringing him into close rivalry with Lablache, a rivalry from which he issued unharmed); and last, and almost best of his creations, his _Masetto_." Ronconi is, we believe, still living, though no longer on the stage; but his memory will remain one of the great traditions of the lyric drama, so long as consummate histrionic ability is regarded as worthy of respect by devotees of the opera.
V.
Mme. Viardot"s name is, perhaps, more closely a.s.sociated with the music of Meyerbeer than that of any other composer. Her _Alice_ in "Robert le Diable," her _Valentine_ in "Les Huguenots," added fresh l.u.s.ter to her fame. In the latter character no representative of opera, in spite of the long bead-roll of eminent names interwoven with the record of this musical work, is worthy to be compared with her. This part was for years regarded as standing to her what _Medea_ was to Pasta, _Norma_ to Grisi, _Fidelio_ to Malibran and Schroder-Devrient, and it was only when she herself made a loftier flight as _Fides_ in "Le Prophete" that this special connection of the part with the _artist_ ceased. Her genius always found a more ardent sympathy with the higher forms of music. "The florid graces and embellishments of the modern Italian school," says a capable judge, "though mastered by her with perfect ease, do not appear to be consonant with her genius. So great an artist must necessarily be a perfect mistress of all styles of singing, but her intellect evidently inclines her to the severer and loftier school." She was admitted to be a "woman of genius, peculiar, inasmuch as it is universal."
Her English engagement at the Royal Italian Opera, in 1848, began with the performance of _Amina_ in "La Sonnambula," and created a great sensation, for she was about to contest the suffrages of the public with a group of the foremost singers of the world, among whom were Grisi, Alboni, and Persiani. Mme. Viardot"s nervousness was apparent to all.
"She proved herself equal to Malibran," says a writer in the "Musical World," speaking of this performance; "there was the same pa.s.sionate fervor, the same absorbing depth of feeling; we heard the same tones whose naturalness and pathos stole into our very heart of hearts; we saw the same abstraction, the same abandonment, the same rapturous awakening to joy, to love, and to devotion. Such novel and extraordinary pa.s.sages, such daring nights into the region of fioriture, together with chromatic runs ascending and descending, embracing the three registers of the soprano, mezzo-soprano, and contralto, we have not heard since the days of Malibran." Another critic made an accurate gauge of her peculiar greatness in saying: "Mme. Viardot"s voice grows unconsciously upon you, until at last you are blind to its imperfections. The voice penetrates to the heart by its sympathetic tones, and you forget everything in it but its touching and affecting quality. You care little or nothing for the mechanism, or rather, for the weakness of the organ. You are no longer a critic, but spellbound by the hand of genius, moved by the sway of enthusiasm that comes from the soul, abashed in the presence of intellect."
The most memorable event of this distinguished artist"s life was her performance, in 1849, of the character of _Fides_ in "Le Prophete." No operatic creation ever made a greater sensation in Paris. Meyerbeer had kept it in his portfolio for years, awaiting the time when Mme. Viardot should be ready to interpret it, and many changes had been made from time to time at the suggestion of the great singer, who united to her executive skill an intellect of the first rank, and a musical knowledge second to that of few composers. At the very last moment it is said that one or more of the acts were entirely reconstructed, at the wish of the representative of _Fides_, whose dramatic instincts were as unerring as her musical judgment. No performance since that of Viardot, though the most eminent singers have essayed the part, has equaled the first ideal set by her creation from its possibilities.
In this opera the princ.i.p.al interest pivots on the _mother_. The sensuous, sentimental, or malignant phases of love are replaced by the purest maternal devotion. It was left for Mme. Viardot to add an absolutely new type to the gallery of portraits on the lyric stage. We are told by a competent critic, whose enthusiasm in the study of this great impersonation did not yet quite run away with his judicial faculty: "Her remarkable power of self-identification with the character set before her was, in this case, aided by person and voice. The mature burgher woman in her quaint costume; the pale, tear-worn devotee, searching from city to city for traces of the lost one, and struck with a pious horror at finding him a tool in the hands of hypocritical blasphemy, was till then a being entirely beyond the pale of the ordinary prima donna"s comprehension--one to the presentation of which there must go as much simplicity as subtile art, as much of tenderness as of force, as much renunciation of woman"s ordinary coquetries as of skill to impress all hearts by the picture of homely love, desolate grief, and religious enthusiasm." M. Roger sang with Mme. Viardot in Paris, but, when the opera was shortly afterward reproduced in London, he was replaced by Signor Mario, "whose appearance in his coronation robes reminded one of some bishop-saint in a picture by Van Ryek or Durer, and who could bring to bear a play of feature without grimace, into scenes of false fascination, far beyond the reach of the clever French artist, M. Roger." The production of "Le Prophete" saved the fortunes of the struggling new Italian Opera House, which had been floundering in pecuniary embarra.s.sments.
The last season of Mme. Viardot in England was in 1858, during which she sang to enthusiastic audiences in many of her princ.i.p.al characters, and also contributed to the public pleasure in concert and the great provincial festivals. The tour in Poland, Germany, and Russia which followed was marked by a series of splendid ovations and the eagerness with which her society was sought by the most patrician circles in Europe.
Her last public appearance in Paris was in 1862, and since that time Mme. Viardot has occupied a professional chair at the Conservatoire. In private life this great artist has always been loved and admired for her brilliant mental accomplishments, her amiability, the suavity of her manners, and her high principles, no less than she has been idolized by the public for the splendor of her powers as musician and tragedienne.
f.a.n.n.y PERSIANI.
The Tenor Singer Tacchinardi.--An Exquisite Voice and Deformed Physique.--Early Talent shown by his Daughter f.a.n.n.y.--His Aversion to her entering on the Stage Life.--Her Marriage to M. Persiani.--The Incident which launched f.a.n.n.y Persiani on the Stage.--Rapid Success as a Singer.--Donizetti writes one of his Great Operas for her.--_Personnel_, Voice, and Artistic Style of Mme. Persiani.--One of the Greatest Executants who ever lived.--Anecdotes of her Italian Tours.-- First Appearance in Paris and London.--A Tour through Belgium with Rubini.--Anecdote of Prince Metternich.--Further Studies of Persiani"s Characteristics as a Singer.--Donizetti composes Another Opera for her.--Her Prosperous Career and Retirement from the Stage.--Last Appearance in Paris for Mario"s Benefit.
I.
Under the Napoleonic _regime_ the Odeon was the leading lyric theatre, and the great star of that company was Nicholas Tacchinardi, a tenor in whom nature had combined the most opposing characteristics. The figure of a dwarf, a head sunk beneath the shoulders, hunchbacked, and repulsive, he was hardly a man fitted by nature for a stage hero. Yet his exquisite voice and irreproachable taste as a musician gave him a long reign in the very front rank of his profession. He was so morbidly conscious of his own stage defects that he would beg composers to write for him with a view to his singing at the side scenes before entering on the stage, that the public might form an impression of him by hearing before his grotesque ugliness could be seen. Another expedient for concealing some portion of his unfortunate figure was often practiced by this musical Caliban, that of coming on the stage standing in a triumphal car. But this only excited the further risibilities of his hearers, and he was forced to be content with the chance of making his vocal fascination condone the impression made by his ugliness.
At his first appearance on the boards of the Odeon, he was saluted with the most insulting outbursts of laughter and smothered e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of "Why, he"s a hunchback!" Being accustomed to this kind of greeting, Tacchinardi tranquilly walked to the footlights and bowed. "Gentlemen,"
he said, addressing the pit, "I am not here to exhibit my person, but to sing. Have the goodness to hear me." They did hear him, and when he ceased the theatre rang with plaudits: there was no more laughter. His personal disadvantages were redeemed by one of the finest and purest tenor voices ever given by nature and refined by art, by his extraordinary intelligence, by an admirable method of singing, an exquisite taste in fioriture, and facility of execution.
f.a.n.n.y Tacchinardi was the second daughter of the deformed tenor, born at Rome, October 4, 1818, three years after Tacchinardi had returned again to his native land. f.a.n.n.y"s pa.s.sion for music betrayed itself in her earliest lisps, and it was not ignored by Tacchinardi, who gave her lessons on the piano and in singing. At nine she could play with considerable intelligence and precision, and sing with grace her father"s ariettas and _duettini_ with her sister Elisa, who was not only an excellent pianist, but a good general musician and composer. The girl grew apace in her art feeling and capacity, for at eleven she took part in an opera as prima donna at a little theatre which her father had built near his country place, just out of Florence. Tacchinardi was, however, very averse to a professional career for his daughter, in spite of the powerful bent of her tastes and the girl"s pleadings. He had been _chanteur de chambre_ since 1822 for the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and in the many concerts and other public performances over which he was director his daughter frequently appeared, to the great delight of amateurs. f.a.n.n.y even at this early age had a voice of immense compa.s.s, though somewhat lacking in sweetness and flexibility, defects which she subsequently overcame by study and practice. As the best antidote to the sweet stage poison which already began to run riot in her veins, her father brought about an early marriage for the immature girl, and in 1830 she was united to Joseph Persiani, an operatic composer of some merit, though not of much note. She resided with her husband in her father"s house for several years, carefully secluded as far as possible from musical influences, but the hereditary pa.s.sion and gifts could not be altogether suppressed, and the youthful wife quietly pursued her studies with unbroken perseverance.
The incident which irretrievably committed her energies and fortunes to the stage was a singular one, yet it is not unreasonable to a.s.sume that, had not this occurred, her ardent predilections would have found some other outlet to the result to which she aspired. M. Fournier, a rich French merchant, settled at Leghorn, was an excellent musician, and carried this recreation of his leisure hours so far as to compose an opera, "Francesca di Rimini," the subject drawn from the romance of "Silvio Pellico." The wealthy merchant could find no manager who would venture to produce the work of an amateur. But he was willing and able to become his own _impressario_, and accordingly he set about forming an operatic troupe and preparing the scenery for a public representation of his dearly beloved musical labor. The first vocalists of Italy, Mmes.
Pisaroni and Rasallima Caradori, contralto and soprano, were engaged at lavish salaries, and on the appointed day of the first rehearsal they all appeared except Caradori, whose Florentine manager positively forbade her singing as a violation of his contract. M. Fournier was in despair, but at last some one remembered Mme. Persiani, who was known as a charming dilettante. Her residence was not many miles away from Leghorn, and it was determined to have recourse to this last resort, for it was otherwise almost impossible to secure a vocalist of talent at short notice. A deputation of M. Fournier"s friends, among whom were those well acquainted with the Tacchinardi family, formed an emba.s.sy to represent the urgent need of the composer and implore the aid of Mme.
Persiani. With some difficulty the consent of husband and father was obtained, and the young singer made her _debut_ in the opera of the merchant-musician. Mme. Persiani said in after-years that, had her attempt been a successful one, it was very doubtful if she ever would have pursued the profession of the stage. But her performance came very near to being a failure. Her pride was so stung and her vanity humiliated that she would not listen to the commands of husband and father. She would become a great lyric artist, or else satisfy herself that she _could_ not become one. The turning-point of her life had come.
She found an engagement at the La Scala, Milan, and she speedily laid a good foundation for her future renown. She sang at Florence with Duprez, and Donizetti, who was then in the city, composed his "Rosmonda d"Inghilterra" for these artists. For two years there was nothing of specially important note in Mme. Persiani"s life except a swift and steady progress. An engagement at Vienna made her the pet of that city, which is fanatical in its musical enthusiasm, and we next find her back again in Italy, singing greatly to the satisfaction of the public in such operas as "Romeo e Giulietta," "Il Pirata," "La Gazza Ladra,"
and "L"Elisir d"Amore." Mme. Pasta was singing in Venice when Persiani visited that city, and the latter did not hesitate to enter into compet.i.tion with her ill.u.s.trious rival. Indeed, the complimentary Venetians called her "la pet.i.te Pasta," though the character of her talent was entirely alien to that of the great tragedienne of music.
Milan and Rome reechoed the voice of other cities, and during her stay in Rome she appeared in two new operas, "Misantropia e Pentimento" and "I Promessi Sposi." Among the artists a.s.sociated with her during the Roman engagement was Ronconi, who was then just beginning to establish his great reputation. One of the most important events of her early career was her a.s.sociation, in 1834, at the San Carlo, Naples, with Duprez, Caselli, and La-blache. The composer Donizetti had always been charmed with her voice as suiting the peculiar style of music in which he excelled, and he determined to compose an opera for her. His marvelous facility of composition was happily ill.u.s.trated in this case.