In the year 1832 German opera in its original form was introduced into
England for the first time, and London learned to recognize the grandeur
of Beethoven in opera, as it had already done in symphony and sonata.
"Fidelio" had been already presented in its Italian dress, without
making very much impression, for the score had been much mutilated, and
the departure from the spirit of the composer flagrant. The opera,
as given by artists "to the manner born," was a revelation to English
audiences. The intense musical vigor of Beethoven's great work was felt
to be a startling variety, wrought out as it was in its principal
part by the genius of a great lyric vocalist. This was Mme.
Schröder-Devrient, who, as an operatic tragedienne, stands foremost in
the annals of the German musical stage, though others have surpassed
her in merely vocal resources, and who never has been rivaled except by
Pasta.
She was the daughter of Sophia Schröder, the Siddons of Germany. This
distinguished actress for a long time reigned supreme in her art. Her
deep sensibilities and dramatic instincts, her noble elocution and
stately beauty, fitted her admirably for tragedy. In such parts as
_Phèdre, Medea, Lady Macbeth, Mérope, Sappho, Jeanne de Montfaucon,
and Isabella_ in "The Bride of Messina," she had no pere. Wilhelmina
Schröder was born in Hamburg, October 6, 1805, and was destined by her
mother for a stage career. In pursuance of this, the child appeared at
the age of five years as a little Cupid, and at ten danced in the ballet
at the Imperial Theatre of Vienna. With the gradual development of the
young girl's character came the ambition for a higher grade of artistic
work. So, when she arrived at the age of fifteen, her mother, who wished
her to appear in tragedy, secured for her a position at the Burgtheater
of Vienna, where she played in such parts as _Aricie_ in "Phèdre,"
and _Ophelia_ in "Hamlet." The impression she made was that of a great
nascent actress, who would one day worthily fill the place of her
mother. But the true scope of her genius was not yet defined, for she
had not studied music. At last she was able to study under an Italian
master of great repute, named Mazzatti, who resided in the Austrian
capital.
Her first appearance was as _Pamina_ in Mozart's "Zauberflote," at the
Vienna theatre, January 20, 1821. The _débutante_ was warmly welcomed by
an appreciative audience, and the terrors of the young girl of seventeen
were quickly assuaged by the generous recognition she received. The
beauty of her voice, her striking figure and port, and her dramatic
genius, combined to make her instantly successful. Wilhelmina Schröder
was tall and nobly molded, and her face, though not beautiful, was
sweet, frank, and fascinating--a face which became transfigured with
fire and passion under the influence of strong emotion. Her vocal organ
was a mellow soprano, which, though not specially flexible, united
softness with volume and compass. In intonation and phrasing, her art,
in spite of her youth and inexperience, showed itself to be singularly
perfect. Though she rapidly became a favorite, her highest triumph was
not achieved till she appeared as _Leonora_ in the "Fidelio." In this
she eclipsed all who had preceded her, and Germany soon rang with her
name as that of an artist of the highest genius. Her own account of her
first representation of this rôle is of much interest:
"When I was studying the character of _Leonora_ at Vienna, I could not
attain that which appeared to me the desired and natural expression at
the moment when _Leonora_, throwing herself before her husband, holds
out a pistol to the Governor, with the words, 'Kill first his wife!'
I studied and studied in vain, though I did all in my power to place
myself mentally in the situation of _Leonora_. I had pictured to myself
the situation, but I felt that it was incomplete, without knowing why or
wherefore. Well, the evening arrived; the audience knows not with what
feelings an artist, who enters seriously into a part, dresses for the
representation. The nearer the moment approached, the greater was my
alarm. When it did arrive, and as I ought to have sung the ominous
words and pointed the pistol at the Governor, I fell into such an utter
tremor at the thought of not being perfect in my character, that my
whole frame trembled, and I thought I should have fallen. Now only fancy
how I felt when the whole house broke forth with enthusiastic shouts of
applause, and what I thought when, after the curtain fell, I was
told that this moment was the most effective and powerful of my whole
representation! So, that which I could not attain with every effort
of mind and imagination, was produced at this decisive moment by my
unaffected terror and anxiety. This result and the effect it had upon
the public taught me how to seize and comprehend the incident, so,
that which at the first representation I had hit upon unconsciously, I
adopted in full consciousness ever afterward in this part."
Not even Malibran could equal her in the impersonation of this
character. Never was dramatic performance more completely, more
intensely affecting, more deeply pathetic, truthful, tender, and
powerful.
Some critics regarded her as far more of the tragedian than the singer.
"Her voice, since I have known it," observes Mr. Chorley, in his "Modern
German Music," "was capable of conveying poignant or tender expression,
but it was harsh and torn--not so inflexible as incorrect. Mme.
Schröder-Devrient resolved to be _par excellence_ 'the German dramatic
singer.' Earnest and intense as was her assumption of the parts she
attempted, her desire of presenting herself first was little less
vehement: there is no possibility of an opera being performed by a
company, each of whom should be as resolute as she was never to rest,
never for an instant to allow the spectator to forget his presence.
She cared not whether she broke the flow of the composition by some cry
heard on any note or in any scale--by even speaking some word, for
which she would not trouble herself to study a right musical emphasis
or inflection--provided, only, she succeeded in continuing to arrest the
attention. Hence, in part, arose her extraordinary success in "Fidelio."
That opera contains, virtually, only one acting character, and with her
it rests to intimate the thrilling secret of the whole story, to develop
this link by link, in presence of the public, and to give the drama the
importance of terror, suspense, and rapture. When the spell is broken
by exhibiting the agony and the struggle of which she is the innocent
victim, if the devotion, the disguise, and the hope of Leonora, the
wife, were not for ever before us, the interest of the prison-opera
would flag and wane into a cheerless and incurable melancholy. This
Mme. Schröder-Devrient took care that it should never do. From her first
entry upon the stage, it might be seen that there was a purpose at her
heart, which could make the weak strong and the timid brave; quickening
every sense, nerving every fiber, arming its possessor with disguise
against curiosity, with persuasion more powerful than any obstacle, with
expedients equal to every emergency.... What Pasta would be in spite
of her uneven, rebellious voice, a most magnificent singer, Mme.
Schröder-Devrient did not care to be, though nature, as I have heard
from those who heard her sing as a girl, had blessed her with a fresh,
delicious soprano voice."