An engagement was procured for her without difficulty at the Opéra,
which was then controlled by the triumvirate, Rossini, Robert, and
Severini. Rossini remembered the beautiful _débutante_ for whom he had
predicted a splendid future, and secured a definite engagement for
her at the Favart to replace Mme. Malibran. That this young and
comparatively inexperienced girl, with a reputation hardly known out of
Italy, should have been chosen to take the place of the great Malibran,
was alike flattering testimony to her own rising genius and
Rossini's penetration. She appeared first before a French audience in
"_Semiramide_," and at once became a favorite. During the season of
six months she succeeded in establishing her place as one of the most
brilliant singers of the age. She sang in cooperation with many of the
foremost artists whose names are among the great traditions of the art.
In "Don Giovanni," Rubini and Tamburini appeared with her; in "Anna
Bolena," Mme. Tadolini, Santini, and Rubini. Even in Pasta's own great
characters, where Mlle. Grisi was measured against the greatest lyric
tragedienne of the age, the critics, keen to probe the weak spot of new
aspirants, found points of favorable comparison in Grisi's favor. During
this year, 1832, both Giuditta and Giulia Grisi retired from the stage,
the former to marry an Italian gentleman of wealth, and the latter to
devote a period to rest and study.
When Giulia reappeared on the French stage the following year, a
wonderful improvement in the breadth and finish of her art was noticed.
She had so improved her leisure that she had eradicated certain
minor faults of vocal delivery, and stood confessed a symmetrical and
splendidly equipped artist. Her performances during the year 1833 in
Paris embraced a great variety of characters, and in different styles
of music, in all of which she was the recipient of the most cordial
admiration.
The production of Bellini's last opera, "I Puritani," in 1834, was one
of the great musical events of the age, not solely in virtue of the
beauty of the work, but on account of the very remarkable quartet
which embodied the principal characters--Grisi, Rubini, Tamburini, and
La-blache. This quartet continued in its perfection for many years,
with the after-substitution of Mario for Rubini, and was one of the
most notable and interesting facts in the history of operatic music.
Bellini's extraordinary skill in writing music for the voice was never
more noticeably shown than in this opera. In conducting the rehearsals,
he compelled the singers to execute after his style. It is recorded
that, while Rubini was rehearsing the tenor part, the composer cried out
in a rage: "You put no life into the music. Show some feeling. Don't you
know what love is?" Then, changing his voice: "Don't you know your
voice is a gold-mine that has never been explored? You are an excellent
artist, but that is not enough. You must forget yourself and try to
represent _Gualtiero_. Let's try again." Rubini, stung by the reproach,
then sang magnificently. "I Puritan!" made a great _furore_ in Paris,
and the composer received the Cross of the Legion of Honor, an honor
then less rarely bestowed than it was in after-years. He did not live
long to enjoy the fruits of his widening reputation, but died while
composing a new opera for the San Carlo, Naples. In the delirium of his
death-bed, he fancied he was at the Favart, conducting a performance of
"I Puritani." Mlle. Grisi's first appearance before the London public
occurred during the spring of the same year, and her great personal
loveliness and magnificent voice as _Ninetta_, in "La Gazza Ladra,"
instantly enslaved the English operatic world, a worship which lasted
unbroken for many years. Her _Desdemona_ in "Otello," which shortly
followed her first opera, was supported by Rubini as _Otello_, Tamburini
as _Iago_, and Ivanhoff as _Rodriguez_. It may be doubted whether any
singer ever leaped into such instant and exalted favor in London, where
the audiences are habitually cold.
Her appearance as _Norma_ in December, 1834, stamped this henceforth as
her greatest performance. "In this character, Grisi," says a writer in
the "Musical World," "is not to be approached, for all those attributes
which have given her her best distinction are displayed therein in their
fullest splendor. Her singing may be rivaled, but hardly her embodiment
of ungovernable and vindictive emotion. There are certain parts in the
lyric drama of Italy this fine artiste has made her own: this is one
of the most striking, and we have a faith in its unreachable
superiority--in its completeness as a whole--that is not to be
disturbed. Her delivery of 'Casta Diva' is a transcendent effort
of vocalization. In the scene where she discovers the treachery of
_Pollio_, and discharges upon his guilty head a torrent of withering and
indignant reproof, she exhibits a power, bordering on the sublime, which
belongs exclusively to her, giving to the character of the insulted
priestess a dramatic importance which would be remarkable even if
entirely separated from the vocal preeminence with which it is allied.
But, in all its aspects, the performance is as near perfection as rare
and exalted genius can make it, and the singing of the actress and the
acting of the singer are alike conspicuous for excellence and power.
Whether in depicting the quiet repose of love, the agony of abused
confidence, the infuriate resentment of jealousy, or the influence
of feminine piety, there is always the best reason for admiration,
accompanied in the more tragic moments with that sentiment of awe which
greatness of conception and vigor of execution could alone suggest."
Mr. Chorley writes, in his "Musical Reminiscences": "Though naturally
enough in some respects inexperienced on her first appearance in
England, Giulia Grisi was not incomplete. And what a soprano voice was
hers! rich, sweet; equal throughout its compass of two octaves (from
C to C), without a break or a note which had to be managed. Her voice
subdued the audience ere 'Dipiacer' was done.... In 1834 she commanded
an exactness of execution not always kept up by her during the
after-years of her reign. Her shake was clear and rapid; her scales were
certain; every interval was taken without hesitation by her. Nor has
any woman ever more thoroughly commanded every gradation of force than
she--in those early days especially; not using the contrast of loud
and soft too violently, but capable of any required violence, of any
advisable delicacy. In the singing of certain slow movements pianissimo,
such as the girl's prayer on the road to execution, in 'La Gazza,' or
as the cantabile in the last scene of 'Anna Bolena' (which we know as
'Home, Sweet Home'), the clear, penetrating beauty of her reduced tones
(different in quality from the whispering semi-ventriloquism which was
one of Mlle. Lind's most favorite effects) was so unique as to reconcile
the ear to a certain shallowness of expression in her rendering of the
words and the situation.
"At that time the beauty of sound was more remarkable (in such passages
as I have just spoken of) than the depth of feeling. When the passion
of the actress was roused--as in 'La Gazza,' during the scene with her
deserter father--with the villainous magistrate, or in the prison with
her lover, or on her trial before sentence was passed--her glorious
notes, produced without difficulty or stint, rang through the house like
a clarion, and were truer in their vehemence to the emotion of the scene
than were those wonderfully subdued sounds, in the penetrating tenuity
of which there might be more or less artifice. From the first, the vigor
always went more closely home to the heart than the tenderness in her
singing; and her acting and her vocal delivery--though the beauty of her
face and voice, the mouth that never distorted itself, the sounds that
never wavered, might well mislead an audience--were to be resisted by
none."
Henceforward, Mlle. Grisi alternated between London and Paris for many
years, her great fame growing with the ripening years. Of course, she,
like other beautiful singers, was the object of passionate addresses,
and the ardent letters sent to her hotel and dressing-room at the
theatre occasioned her much annoyance. Many unpleasant episodes
occurred, of which the following is an illustration, as showing the
persecution to which stage celebrities are often subjected: While she
was in her stage-box at the Paris Opera one night, in the winter of
1836, she observed an unfortunate admirer, who had pursued her for
months, lying in ambuscade near the door, as if awaiting her exit. M.
Robert, one of the managers, requested the intruder to retire, and, as
the admonition was unheeded, Colonel Ragani, Grisi's uncle, somewhat
sternly remonstrated with him. The reckless lover drew a sword from a
cane, and would have run Colonel Ragani through, had it not been for the
coolness of a gentleman passing in the lobby, who seized and disarmed
the amorous maniac, who was a young author of some repute, named
Dupuzet. Anecdotes of a similar kind might be enumerated, for Grisi's
womanly fascinations made havoc among that large class who become easily
enamored of the goddesses of the theatre.
Like all the greatest singers, Grisi was lavishly generous. She had
often been known to sing in five concerts in one day for charitable
purposes. At one of the great York festivals in England, she refused, as
a matter of professional pride, to sing for less than had been given
to Malibran, but, to show that there was nothing ignoble in her
persistence, she donated all the money received to the poor. She
rendered so many services to the Westminster Hospital that she was made
an honorary governor of that institution, and in manifold ways proved
that the goodness of her heart was no whit less than the splendor of her
artistic genius.
The marriage of Mlle. Grisi, in the spring of 1830, to M. Auguste Gérard
de Melcy, a French gentleman of fortune, did not deprive the stage
of one of its greatest ornaments, for after a short retirement at the
beautiful château of Vaucresson, which she had recently purchased, she
again resumed the operatic career which had so many fascinations for one
of her temperament, as well as substantial rewards. Her first appearance
in London after her marriage was with Rubini and Tamburini in the opera
of "Semiramide," speedily followed by a performance of _Donna Anna_, in
"Don Giovanni." The excitement of the public in its eager anticipation
of the latter opera was wrought to the highest pitch. A great throng
pressed against both entrances of the theatre for hours before the
opening of the doors, and many ladies were severely bruised or fainted
in the crush. It was estimated that more than four thousand persons were
present on this occasion. The cast was a magnificent one. Mme. Grisi was
supported by Mmes. Persiani and Albertazzi, and Tamburini, Lablache, and
Rubini. This was hailed as one of the great gala nights in the musical
records of London, and it is said that only a few years ago old
connoisseurs still talked of it as something incomparable, in spite of
the gifted singers who had since illustrated the lyric art. Mme. Pasta,
who occupied a stage box, led the applause whenever her beautiful young
rival appeared, and Grisi, her eyes glowing with happy tears, went to
Pasta's box to thank the queen of lyric tragedy for her cordial homage.
"Don Giovanni" was performed with the same cast in January, 1838, at the
Théâtre Italiens. About an hour after the close of the performance the
building was discovered to be on fire, and it was soon reduced to a heap
of glowing ashes. Severini, one of the directors, leaped from an upper
story, and was instantly dashed to pieces, and Robert narrowly saved
himself by aid of a rope ladder. Rossini, who had an apartment in the
opera-house, was absent, but the whole of his musical library, valued at
two hundred thousand francs, was destroyed, with many rare manuscripts,
which no effort or expense could replace.