The Sun.
London, England, 1841-07-08 00:00:00

EVENING SUN

MADAME CATALAN'.
—My soul like an enchanted boat
Floats on the silver waves of thy sweet singing ;
While thine doth, like an argel. sit,
Beside the helm conducting it,
While all the winds with melody are ringing.
PARIS, JULY 5. Angelica Catalini, then, is dead !
The Sultana of song lies silent and tuneless. She died
on Sunday, the last 20th of June—when the curtains of
a starry Sabbath fell around her final sleep.
Those who are accustomed to the cathedrals of the
Continent know well that dim and desolate emotion
which sweeps through the avenues of the soul, when in
the midst of a stately service, the majestic Jubilate is
suddenly hushed, leaving blank and monotonous silence.
Such was precisely the feeling which came over my
mind when I heard the rumour, as it travelled into
Paris from Italy, that Catalani had departed. It seemed
to me as if the world had lost its only fine harmonic—
as if its proudest music were broke off—anti the only
trumpet-tones that kept this creation festal were fled and
vanished for ever.
Let it not be thought that I indulge in hyperbole. I
speak from what I have personally felt, and that feeling
arises from the remembrance of what Catalani was when
she sang in the palmy past. Past, truly ; but the page
in my memory, whereon those recollections are in-
scribed, is impressed with such rich fresh music-notes,
and in my fancy's ear there still abides so high and
golden a warble, of what I first heard from Catalani's
lips, that obliterated neither of them can be. At the
time of which I speak I was in the habit of attending,
the English Opera on the arm of Lady E—, and I re-
member well the magnificent night on which, for the
first time, I saw Catalani. Let me look back. Let me
revisit the brilliant past. Open thy door, 0 memory !
touch the enchanted springs, and disclose the marvels of that
wondrous night, more ravishing than a thousand Arabian.
It was a night on which Semiramide, that master-tragedy
of the Italian stage was announced for the leading text-
piece. Catalani, with her brow all diamonded from
foreign favour, was to appear for the first time in
your Babelonian London. The party of which I formed
one intended to have been present as soon as Oroe begins
his " Si—Gran Nume—t'intesi ;" but what with the
toilets of the Ladies E—, the perfumings of the old
Lord, and the non-agility of the full-fed footmen, we
arrived villainously late. But the scene, nevertheless, as
we were seating, burst upon us like a torrent. Catalani
as Semiramide stood foremost on the stage. She was
always handsome, and at this moment her noble cast of
features, under the excitement of her part, were lit up
with peculiar majesty : her form, too, tall and command-
ing, though less muscular, was almost like that of our
own Siddons ; and the whole blazing theatre, with its
thousand eyes, was fixed upon her there. Her voice at
first was grave and beautiful--a rich and tuneable so-
prano—laden with noble Italian words. Gradually the
Inspirations of her breath grew deeper—she seemed pre-
paring for some great effort. Suddenly a splendour lit
upon her lip ; and at the words " Son Regina," her
soul, as if fired at the thoughts of her regality, at the
glory on her brow, and the grandeur at her feet, poured
out a peal of rapture so majestical—shook the whole'
house with so towering a harmony—that the walls
seemed absolutely to act as a constraint, and the roof
as a confinement to her powers. Never before, and never
after, have I heard its second or its like.
It was well said, and said by no mean connoisseur,
when putting in comparison the three best singers of his
age, that " Grassini was all grace, Band all feeling, but
Catalani all fire." Edgcumbe was right, and I cordially
agree with his Lordship. I have heard them all in turn.
Grassini won you, and stole upon you with her melodious
song, like the voice of girl-choirs from an old Attic
temple, sweet-murmuring their hymns to vestal Dian.
She abounded in exquisite sweetnesses of tone, and classi-
cal unisons. Banti was, on the other hand, adorable and
loving of voice, as was a very seraph. Her soul seemed
warmed with as pure an ardour ; her lips o'erflowed
with the same sky-tuned hymn. But if Banti laid claim
to seraphicism of song, what place in the celestial
scale can be assigned to Catalani ? The rabbins allow
but the Ophanim above the seraphim, or at highest the
flaming archangel. Then boldly write her do srn that
highest--call her a vocal archangel—all fire, rapture,
and astounding song.
But dropping from metaphor and the seventh heaven,
let us inquire, with the simple inquisitiveness of a child,
into the first history of this Queen of song. Catalani, if
her lips had not been clay-cold now, would have related
to you the circumstances of her early life in almost these
words, which I have heard her times out of mind repeat
herself. She would speak with a beautiful simplicity
when she spoke on these things. " I was born," she
would say, " at Sinigaglia, which lies, you know, in the
dominions of our triple-crowned father the Pope, in the
year 1785. My father, blessed be he, was a rich jew-
eller ; and when I was only fourteen years old he placed
me in a convent along with my dear elder sister. I
used at first to sing in the choirs of the convent ; and
• my sisters ih the convent used to say that my voice,
which was higher than theirs, used to crown the choirs
like the spire of a Christian church which had a chime
of silrer bells, and rings merrily up in the air. A great
many people used to come and hear me, till the convent
used to be filled to hear the singing ; and it was feared
that I might fall into sin, and become vain, and, to pre-
vent vanity, they interdicted me from singing. But my
father at last took me from the convent, when he came
from the wars in Italy. He was, as I told you, very
rich at first, but he had immense losses; and he decided,
in 1802, that I should make my debut at the first, theatre
in Rome, which you know is called Argentina. I was
then only sixteen."
I wish I could pursue the narrative in her own simple
words, but here her reminiscences usually ceased ; we
must therefore continue it from our own notes and me-
mory. Her success at Rome was prodigious. She was
then in the bloom of her surpassing beauty, and her
vocal powers were reaching maturity. Her form was a
model of symmetry, and her countenance, which beamed
with intelligence and animation, was capable of every
shade and variety of expression. The natural gifts of
her mind were not unworthy those of her person. She
possessed energy and spirit, blended with great sensi-
bility, sweetness of temper, and exquisite affection.
These qualities gave an irresistible charm to her man-
. ners, and it was impossible to be in her society without
being fascinated by her unaffected good humour, and ex-
uberant, yet perfectly delicate vivacity.
Her next appearances were in Portugal, where she
took her station on the Italian Theatre at Lisbon. She
there appeared with Crescentini, who was the director,
and with Signora Gaffarini, to whom nature had given
as much of the pathetic power as she had given to Cata-
lani, of the kind called la bravoure. When Catalani
quitted Portugal, the Princess-Regent gave her a letter
to the Queen of Spain, who retained her for some
time at Madrid, and loaded her with taarks of favour
and distinction.
In 1806 she went to Paris for the first time. She
there confined herself chiefly to the concerts, and made
herself admired by the grandiose manner in which she
sang Italian passages, particularly those in the Semira-
mile. She was really the Queen of Song. Equalled she
never was in the execution of difficult and intricate pas-
sages. By the rapidity, flexibility, and incredible ten-
sion of her voice she astonished France, as she after-
wards did Europe. It was an extraordinary supple and
well-exercised instrument, most mighty in its music, and
of which the clavier was immense. As regards low or
plaintively sweet expression, she was decidedly at a loss ;
but her voice, entirely instrumental, executed with
amazing facility the most involved and vehement diffi-
culties—those chromatic and enharmonic gamuts—those
arpeggiaturas--those trills, interminable and astounding,
that drew out in magic links the subtlest soul of har-
mony--those organic tones which embraced three and
four octaves in their modulations—in these was Catalani
unsurpassed, nay, was unsurpassable.
Quitting France in 1806 she went to London, where
she made the brilliant debut which we have described as
witnessing, and which laid for her the foundation of an
immense fortune. Her gains were about 3,0001. sterling,
and two benefits which she had brought her almost
1,5001. The following year these profits amounted to
4,0001. sterling, and from concerts and journeys in dif-
ferent parts of the provinces in Scotland and Ireland, she
at last had amassed a fortune of 80,0001. sterling, gained
by a sojourn of eight years in the three kingdoms.
But amid all the splendour of f r
e
i
gn
courts—the
rapturous applauses of lords and potentates--the heart
of Catalani was still amid the purple vines of
belle Italia, and it is but justice to say that the
first purpose to which her magnificent gains were
put, was the succouring and assisting her father
and mother, who, when she left Italy, had con-
tinued their residence at Rome.* On the return of the
Bourbons she returned to Paris, and obtained leave of
M. le Comte de Blacas to transfer the Opera Buffa to the
Salle Favart, with the privilege of having it under her
own direction. But on the return of Bonaparte, in 1815,
she was obliged to leave it, and she withdrew into Bel-
gium, till the Bourbons came again into power. Ma-
dame Catalani now married M. de Vallabregue, a
Frenchman, but still preserved the name by which she
was known to the world. On the 22d of October, in
the same year, she took under her management the
Opera Buffa, and became sole proprietress of it,
sole manager, and almost sole actress. She on
• this occasion turned out all the other actresses of
the theatre, preserving only the mediocre ones, and, for
a very palpable purpose, that she might only have a
shadow to the singly bright picture of herself. But one
singer does not constitute an opera, though her husband,
M. Vallabregue, was of a different opinion, and is re-
ported to have said, "Ma femme, et quatre ou cinq
poupees, viola torit ce qu'il faut."
Lord Edgcumbe thus speaks of her at this period :
" Assuming latterly the place of first buffa, she suc-
ceeded admirably in that line. Indeed she gave me
more pleasure in the comic than the serious opera, as
she sung with greater simplicity and ease. In both her
acting was excellent ; in the one, majestic, forcible, ex-
pressive ; in the other, natural, playful, genteel. Her
face and figure were suited to both, for she is very hand-
some, with a countenance peculiarly fine on the stage,
and capable of great expression. Though the outline of
her feaures are decidedly tragic, yet she could relax
them into the most charming smile, and assume not
merely the character of gaiety, but even of niaiserie, and
of arch simplicity, so that her versatile powers fitted
her for every style."
The year 1813 was the last season of Catalani's re-
gular engagement on the Opera stage. Tito and Figaro
continued to be performed, but Catalani returned to the
show-pieces of her favourite composers, entertaining the
public, by way of novelty, with variations, composed for
the violin, on popular airs, " God save the King," " Rule
glish songs, which were
most extravagant marks
Towards the beginning of
her appearance one even-
announced to perform.
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