Mme. Mara made such a brilliant hit in opera that the public clamor
for her continuance on the stage overcame her old resolutions. The
opera-house was reopened, and Sir John Gallini, with this popular
favorite at the head of his enterprise, had a most prosperous season.
Both as a lyric cantatrice and as the matchless singer of oratorio, she
was the delight of the public for two years. In 1788 she went to Turin
to sing at the Carnival, where it was the custom to open the gala season
with a fresh artist, who supplied the place of the departing vocalist,
whether a soprano or tenor. Her predecessor, a tenor, was piqued at his
dismissal, and tried to prejudice the public against her by representing
her as alike-ugly in person and faulty in art. Mara's shrewdness of
resource turned the tables on the Italian. On her first appearance her
manner was purposely full of _gaucherie_, her costume badly considered
and all awry, her singing careless and out of time. The maligner was
triumphant, and said to all, "Didn't I say so? See how ugly she is; and
as for singing--did you ever hear such a vile jargon of sounds?" On the
second night Mara appeared most charmingly dressed, and she sang like
an angel--a surprise to the audience which drove the excitable Italians
into the most passionate uproar of applause and delight. Mara was
crowned on the stage, and was received by the King and Queen with the
heartiest kindness and a profusion of costly gifts. A similar reception
at Venice tempted her to prolong her Italian tour, but she preferred to
return to London, where she sang under Wyatt at the Pantheon, which
was transformed into a temporary opera-house. She now sang with
Pacchierotti, the successor of Farinelli and Caffarelli, and the last
inheritor of their grand large style. "His duettos with Mara were
the most perfect pieces of execution I ever heard," said Lord Mount
Edgcumbe. One of the most pathetic experiences of Mara's life was her
passage through Paris in 1792 on her way to Germany, when she saw her
former patroness Marie Antoinette, whom she remembered in all the glory
of her youth, popularity, and loveliness, seated in an open chariot,
pale, wan, and grief-stricken, surrounded by a guard of troopers with
drawn swords and hooted at by a mob of howling _sans-culottes_. Better
far to be a mimic queen than to be hurled from the most radiant and
splendid place in European royalty, to be the scorn and plaything of the
ragged ruffians of Paris, and to finish with the guillotine in the Place
de la Grève! About this time she was freed from the _bête noire_ of her
life, her drunken worthless husband, who agreed to trouble her no more
if she would settle an annuity on him. Thenceforward they never met,
though she always spoke of him with affection.
Harris, of the Theatre Royal of Dublin, engaged Mara to sing in English
opera in 1797. Despite the fact that her English was so faulty, that her
person was unprepossessing, and that the part was associated with
some of the most beautiful and accomplished singers on the stage, her
performance of _Polly Peachum_ in the "Beggars' Opera" was a masterpiece
of delicious simplicity and archness. The perfection of her art
vanquished all obstacles, and she was acknowledged the equal of Mrs.
Crouch, and even of the resplendent Billington, in the part. Dr. Arnold
records that, in spite of the dancing and violent action of the _rôle_,
her tones were as free, smooth, and perfect as if she had been standing
in the orchestra. Mrs. Billington, who was just to her professional
rivals, said she regarded Mara's execution as superior to her own in
genuine effect, though not in compass and complication. If the rapid
vocalization of a singer was praised, Mara would significantly ask, "Can
she sing six plain notes?"
As time passed, Mme. Mara's voice began to decline, and in 1802 she
took advantage of an annoying controversy to bid farewell to the English
public; for the artist who could sing solemn music with such thrilling
effect had the temper of a shrew, though it was easily placated. Mrs.
Billington generously offered her services to assist at her farewell
concert; and Mara, bursting into tears, threw her arms about the neck
of the greatest of her professional rivals. She did not sing again in
England till 1820. Speaking of this event, Kelly says, "It was truly
grievous to see such transcendent talents as she once possessed so sunk,
so fallen. I used every effort in my power to prevent her committing
herself, but in vain."
"When the incomparable Mme. Mara took leave of me on her return to the
Continent," says Dr. Kitchener, "I could not help expressing my regret
that she had not taken my advice to publish those songs of Handel (her
matchless performance of which gained her that undisputed preeminence
which she enjoyed), with the embellishments, etc., with which she
enriched them. This inimitable singer replied, 'Indeed, my good friend,
you attribute my success to a very different source than the real one.
It was not what I did, but the manner in which I did it. I could sing
six simple notes and produce every effect I could wish; another singer
may sing those very same notes with very different effect. I am sure
it was to my expression of the words that I owe everything. People have
often said to me, "Madame Mara, why do you not introduce more pretty
things, and passages, and graces in your singing?" I say, "These pretty
things are very pretty, to be sure, but the proper expression of the
words and the music is a great deal better."' This and her extraordinary
industry were the secrets of her undisputed sovereignty. She told me
that when she was encored in a song, which she very often was, on her
return home she seldom retired to rest without first inventing a new
cadence for the next performance of it. Here is an example for young
singers!"
Mme. Mara continued to sing for many years in different cities of
Europe, though the recollections and traditions of her marvelous prime
were more attractive than the then active powers of her voice. But her
consummate art never deserted her, in spite of the fact that her voice
became more and more a wreck. She appeared in public occasionally till
her seventy-second year, when she retired to Cassel, her birthplace,
where she died in 1833, at the age of eighty.