The _personnel_ of Mme. Persiani could not be considered highly
attractive. She was small, thin, with a long, colorless face, and looked
older than her years. Her eyes were, however, soft and dreamy, her smile
piquant, her hair like gold-colored silk, and exquisitely long. Her
manner and carriage both on and off the stage were so refined and
charming, that of all the singers of the day she best expressed that
thorough-bred look which is independent of all beauty and physical
grace. "Never was there woman less vulgar, in physiognomy or in manner,
than she," says Mr. Chorley, describing Mme. Persiani; "but never was
there one whose appearance on the stage was less distinguished. She was
not precisely insignificant to see, so much as pale, plain, and anxious.
She gave the impression of one who had left sorrow or sickness at
home, and who therefore (unlike those wonderful deluders, the French
actresses, who, because they will not be ugly, rarely _look_ so) had
resigned every question of personal attraction as a hopeless one. She
was singularly tasteless in her dress. Her one good point was her hair,
which was splendidly profuse, and of an agreeable color."
As a vocalist, it was agreed that her singing had the volubility,
ease, and musical sweetness of a bird: her execution was remarkable
for velocity. Her voice was rather thin, but its tones were clear as a
silver bell, brilliant and sparkling as a diamond; it embraced a range
of two octaves and a half (or about eighteen notes, from B to F in alt),
the highest and lowest notes of which she touched with equal ease and
sweetness. She had thus an organ of the most extensive compass known in
the register of the true soprano. Her facility was extraordinary;
her voice was implicitly under her command, and capable not only of
executing the greatest difficulties, but also of obeying the most daring
caprices--scales, shakes, trills, divisions, fioriture the most dazzling
and inconceivable. She only acquired this command by indefatigable
labor. Study had enabled her to execute with fluency and correctness
the chromatic scales, ascending and descending, and it was by sheer hard
practice that she learned to swell and diminish her accents; to emit
tones full, large, and free from nasal or guttural sounds, to manage
her respiration skillfully, and to seize the delicate shades of
vocalization. In fioriture and vocal effects her taste was faultless,
and she had an agreeable manner of uniting her tones by the happiest
transitions, and diminishing with insensible gradations. She excelled
in the effects of vocal embroidery, and her passion for ornamentation
tempted her to disregard the dramatic situation in order to give way
to a torrent of splendid fioriture, which dazzled the audience without
always satisfying them.
The characters expressing placidity, softness, and feminine grace, like
_Lucia, Amina,_ and _Zerli-na_, involving the sentimental rather than
the passionate, were best fitted to Mme. Persiani's powers as artist.
She belonged to the same school as Sontag, not only in character
of voice, but in all her sympathies and affinities; yet she was not
incapable of a high order of tragic emotion, as her performance of the
mad scene of "Lucia di Lammermoor" gave ample proof, but this form of
artistic expression was not spontaneous and unforced. It was only well
accomplished under high pressure. Escudin said of her, "It is not only
the nature of her voice which limits her--it is also the expression
of her acting, we had almost said the ensemble of her physical
organization. She knows her own powers perfectly. She is not ambitious,
she knows exactly what will suit her, and is aware precisely of the
nature of her talent." Although she attained a high reputation in some
of Mozart's characters, as, for example, _Zerlina_, the Mozart music was
not well fitted to her voice and tastes. The brilliancy and flexibility
of her organ and her airy style were far more suited to the modern
Italian than to the severe German school.
A charming compliment was paid by Malibran, who knew how to do such
things with infinite taste and delicacy, to Persiani, when the latter
lady was singing at Naples in 1835: while the representative of
_Lucia_ was changing her costume between the acts, a lady entered her
dressing-room, and complimented her in warmest terms on the excellence
of her singing. The visitor then took the long golden tresses floating
over Persiani's shoulders, and asked, "Is it all your own?" On being
laughingly answered in the affirmative, Malibran, for it was she, said,
"Allow me, signora, since I have no wreath of flowers to offer you, to
twine you one with your own beautiful hair." Mme. Persiani's artistic
tour through Italy, in 1835, culminated in Florence with one of those
exhibitions of popular tyranny and exaction which so often alternate
with enthusiasm in the case of audiences naturally ardent and
impressible, and consequently capricious. When the singer arrived at the
Tuscan capital, she was in such a weak and exhausted state that she did
not deem it prudent to sing. Her manager was, however, unbending,
and insisted on the exact fulfillment of her contract. After vain
remonstrances she yielded to her taskmaster, and appeared in "I
Puritani," trusting to the forbearance and kindness of her audience.
But a few notes had escaped her pale and quivering lips when the angry
audience broke out into loud hisses, marks of disapprobation which were
kept up during the performance. Mme. Persiani could not forgive this,
and, when she completely recovered her voice and energy a few weeks
after, she treated the lavish demonstrations of the public with the most
cutting disdain and indifference. At the close of her engagement, she
publicly announced her determination never again to sing in Florence, on
account of the selfish cruelty to which she had been subjected both by
the manager and the public. Persiani's fame grew rapidly in every part
of Europe. At Vienna, she was named chamber singer to the Austrian
sovereign, and splendid gifts were lavished on her by the imperial
family, and in the leading cities of Germany, as in St. Petersburg and
Moscow, the highest recognition of her talents was shown alike by court
and people.
It was not till 1837 that Mme. Persiani ventured to make her first
appearance in Paris, a step which she took with much apprehension, for
she had an exaggerated notion of the captious-ness and coldness of the
French public. When she stepped on the stage, November 7th, the night of
her _début_ in "Sonnambula," she was so violently shaken by her emotions
that she could scarcely stand. The other singers were Rubini, Tamburini,
and Mlle. Allessandri, and the audience was of the utmost distinction,
including the foremost people in the art, literary, and social circles
of Paris. The _debutante_ was well received, but it was not until
she appeared in Cimarosa's "Il Matrimonio Segreto" that she was fully
appreciated. Rubini and Tamburini were with her in the cast, and the
same great artists participated also with her in the performance of
"Lucia," which set the final seal of her artistic won h in the
public estimate. She also appeared in London in the following year in
"Sonnambula." "It is no small risk to any vocalist to follow Malibran
and Grisi in a part which they both played so well," was the observation
of one critic, "and it is no small compliment to Persiani to say that
she succeeded in it." She had completely established herself as a
favorite with the London public before the end of the season, and
thereafter she continued to sing alternately in London and Paris for a
succession of years, sharing the applause of audiences with such artists
as Grisi, Viardot, Lablache, Tamburini, Rubini, and Mario.
A tour through Belgium and the Rhenish provinces, partly operatic,
partly concertizing, which she took with Rubini in the summer and fall
of 1841, was highly successful from the artistic point of view, and
replete with pleasant incidents, among which may be mentioned their
meeting at Wiesbaden with Prince Metternich, who had come with a crowd
of princes, ministers, and diplomats from the château of Johannisberg
to be present at the concert. At the conclusion of the performance, the
Prince took Rubini by the arm, and walked up and down the salon with him
for some time. They had become acquainted at Vienna. "My dear
Rubini," said Metternich, "it is impossible that you can come so near
Johannisberg without paying me a visit there. I hope you and your
friends will come and dine with me to-morrow." The following day,
therefore, Rubini, Mme. Persiani, etc., went to the château, so
celebrated for the produce of its vineyards, where M. Metternich and his
princess did the honors with the utmost affability and cordiality. After
dinner, Rubini, unasked, sang two of his most admired airs; and
the Prince, to testify his gratification, offered him a basket of
Johannisberg, "to drink my health," he laughingly said, "when you reach
your château of Bergamo." Rubini accepted the friendly offering, and
begged permission to bring Mme. Rubini, before quitting the north of
Europe, to visit the fine château. Metternich immediately summoned his
major-domo, and said to him, "Remember that, if ever M. Rubini visits
Johannisberg during my absence, he is to be received as if he were its
master. You will place the whole of the château at his disposal so long
as he may please to remain." "And the cellar, also?" asked Rubini. "The
cellar, also," added the Prince, smiling: "the cellar at discretion."