The Sun.
London, England, 1849-05-24 00:00:00

HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE.

Mademoiselle Parodi has secured her position as the
Queen of lyrical tragedy. She appeared on Tuesday in
the character of Semiramide, and even surpassed the
expectations of her warmest admirers. As a whole,
(and it is as a whole that the impersonations of Made-
moiselle Parodi must be judged, for she is no mere self-
seeking point-maker, but a conscientious interpreter of
the whole inspiration of her author, leaving the points
to make themselves, which they do much more effectually
than when strenuous efforts are made to bring them
out), as a whole never has the character of the majestic
yet guilty Assyrian Queen been more truthfully or more
grandly developed than it was on Tuesday by Mademoi-
selle Parodi. She was equal to Pasta in her grandest
moments. In the earlier scenes she Was indeed queen-like;
there was a calm dignity about her impersonation which
seemed to awe all those about her into respect, it
was the calm majesty of conscious power, the innate
sense of an undoubting and admitted superiority which
has no need to exert itself in order to prove its exist-
ence. Mademoiselle Parodi has reached the highest
pitch of art—she understands the secret of repose.
Never have we seen anything more majestic than her
acting during the whole of the magnificent quartett
" Di tanti regi e popoli," which was sung as perfectly
as it could be by herself, Colletti, who was the Assur,
Lablache, who was the Oroe, and Bartolini, who was
the Idreno. The " Bel Raggio" was magnificently sung,
and acted beautifully. The Queen was for once sunk in
the woman, and the majestic Semiramide was again a
girl in her love for Arsace, and in her joy at the favour-
able response of the oracle. It was an oasis of human
feeling in the sterile desert of heartless state in
which she who wears a crown is condemned
to live, and move, and have her being.
She was, however, again the Queen, ay! every inch a
queen in the speech from the throne, in which she an-
nounces to her assembled subjects her choice of Arsaco
as a husband. And the conclusion of this scene, the
magnificent finale " Guiri Ognuno," was, whether consi-
deredas a vocal or as a dramatic display, one of the most
magnificent„ one of the most perfect ever witnessed.
Never have we beheld anything finer, anything more
classical, than the attitudes of Mademoiselle Parodi,
as she listens to the voice of the spectre; never anything
more terribly sublime than the changes of her counte-
nance in that supreme moment of terror and of horror.
Never, not even by Pasta herself, has this terrible scene
been more sublimely embodied. Every attitude of
Parodi was a study for a sculptor, whilst the
rapid changes of her mobile features put the
painter's art at defiance to catch them. The opening scene
of the second act, the great duet with Assur was, per-
haps, the triumph of the night. The haughty dignity
of Mademoiselle Parodi in this scene was magnificent
and intense, as was her expression of indignation—and
never have we seen indignation expressed with greater
intensity—it was the indignation of a Queen who felt
and knew her power, and never once forgot her state.
The stately pride and haughty dignity with which she
commanded Assur to respect in Arsace his sovereign
was sublime, and then that sudden gust of feeling with
which she exclaims," Senti questa gioia," as she hears the
music announcing the approach of Arsace and his troops,
was perfectly thrilling, and went at once to the heart.
The scene with Arsace was also a magnificent display of
histronic power. Never has the expression of the most
acute mental agony been so truthfully depicted as it was
by Parodi, in which she lets the paper fall from her hands
which reveals to her the history of Arsace. She
gives but one look —one momentary glance—before
she covers her face with her hands ; but that one
glance is a glance of such unutterable anguish
as to show that in that moment is concentrated
the agony of years. In the far-famed duet which fol-
lows " Ebben a to ferisce," the conception is beautifully
carried out. She is no longer the haughty Queen, bid-
ding stern defiance to Assur, and breathing forth
threatenings against him ; she does not address Arsace
in a tone of defiance, but as a guilty woman, bowing to
the irresistible decrees of fate, to whom death would
be a welcome refuge from the more than mortal agony
which she suffers. Piteously she implores him as
the minister of the gods to give her that death.
This duet was deliciously sung by Parodi and Alboni
(who was of course the Arsace), and the middle move-
ment, the far-famed " Giorno d'orrore," was rapturously
encored. The triumph of Mademoiselle Parodi was
complete, she- has made the character of Semiramide,
perhaps the most difficult in the whole range of Italian
lyrical tragedy, her own, and this is but the foretaste of
many future triumphs yet in store for her, among which,
not the least, will be her Medea. She was called for at
the conclusion of the first act, and at the conclusion of
the opera, and also frequently during the course of the
performance. Mademoiselle Alboni was the Arsace; this
was the character in which she first made her Maid, and
by her personation of which she at once secured her
position. Her rich mellow contralto tones were never
heard to greater perfection than they were on Tuesday.
Her magnificent rendering of the opening aria, " In se
barbers," excited a perfect furore. We have frequently
heard her in the part of Arsace,, and always with de-
light, but never have we heard her in such excel-
lent voice, never has she acted the part of
Arsace so excellently as on Tuesday. Coletti was
magnificent as Assur, both as regards his singing and
his acting. In the second act he nobly seconded Parodi
by his impassioned energy; in fact this scene has never
before been so perfectly rendered in this country as it
was on Tuesday by Coletti and Parodi. Lablache, in
order to strengthen the cast, took the part of Oroe, the
High Priest, and the consequence was a representation
of the chef d'oeuvre of Rossini as nearly approaching
perfection as possible, more perfect by far, as a whole,
than any representation of it which has hitherto taken
place in this country.