Life of Henriette Sontag, Countess de Rossi Part 2

II.

For the Argentine sounds of thy voice softly stealing on the hearer's senses, to him that confides in them open the portals of Heaven.

III.

Of the choirs sublime of the Cherubim thou hast borrowed thy strains; and as he listens, each auditor thinks it is the voice of his Guardian Angel that speaks.

IV.

Only from the depth of the purest of hearts can such tones arise; it is as if Heaven summoned us to partake of its own thoughts.

V.

If some day your voice resound no more, the blessing will be resumed; and, wrapped in eternity, it will have destroyed in us the enemy, and we will remain subject to a power of love and charity.

VI.

For through thy beautiful lips Heaven speaks to its children, and thy voice brings us news from those realms above, which are the asylum of all.

VII.

When thou shalt have returned to the Kingdom of Harmonies, and no mortal coil shall restrain thy power; then, amidst the angelic choir, thou shalt sing to the throne supreme, and blessed! thou shalt receive the highest reward of terrestrial singer!

We have traced here but very imperfectly what we have observed ourselves, heard from travellers, or collected from the many journals and reviews of Germany. What we have recorded is but a very small portion of the sum of constant happiness, of constant triumph, which attended Madame de Rossi since she left the theatrical career. But at last came the fatal year 1848, when a political eruption, unprecedented for magnitude and extent, fell upon the whole fabric of human happiness on the Continent, as unforeseen and as destructive as the volcanic outburst which, in a past age, buried Pompeii. Madame de Rossi's fortune, when the revolution broke out at Berlin, was placed partly with bankers, partly in commercial securities; commerce ceased, public credit was shaken, and private credit lost, and with the latter the fortune of Madame de Rossi. Shortly afterwards followed the events in Sardinia, in its turn deeply affecting the fortunes of her husband, and threatening the Count Rossi with the loss of that office which he had so long and so honorably held. On the first news of the losses experienced by Madame de Rossi, knowing how perfectly she had preserved her voice, the Direction of Her Majesty's Theatre made, in the most delicate manner that could be devised, ample offers to the unfortunate lady, in case she should deem it necessary to return to the scene of her former triumphs. The Count and Countess Rossi did not contemplate then the necessity of so great a sacrifice. Later offers of unlimited temptation were made by other parties, and emissaries sent to Berlin secretly to treat with the great vocalist of the golden age of the opera. But they were at once refused.

As events a.s.sumed a darker complexion, Madame de Rossi, the most affectionate of mothers, grew more and more anxious for her children, and used every endeavor to prevail on her n.o.ble husband to sacrifice the privileges and prejudices of rank, and the sweets of high office, to the future welfare of their children. An artist of European fame, who not only commands admiration by his talents, his conversational powers, his elegant and amiable manners, and his n.o.ble and elevated character--M.

Thalberg, happened some months since to be in Berlin, and he is said to have seconded Madame de Rossi's efforts to persuade her husband.

Communications were resumed with the Direction of Her Majesty's Theatre, although still in a problematical and conditional form, and the Count Rossi repaired to Turin to endeavor to release himself from his duties.

After some delay, the Count obtained permission from his sovereign to retire for a time from his career. When it was known later at Turin what was the cause of his retirement, and that it was definitive, letters were written, by order of the sovereign, in the highest degree cordial and flattering, both to M. and Madame de Rossi. From Turin the Count returned to Berlin; there Mr. Lumley had suddenly arrived--every arrangement was made, and a week after he had left Berlin, the Count and Countess Rossi arrived in London in a manner totally unforeseen. In a week more she appeared on the stage, and although, unlike other great singers, she had not, owing to the necessity of secresy, been preceded by those announcements which habitually long beforehand herald forth a _prima donna_, and work upon public expectation, her reception was one never surpa.s.sed in enthusiasm.

When the circ.u.mstances in which Madame Sontag has once more appeared on the horizon with undiminished glory are considered, a feeling of something more than admiration takes possession of the observer. To behold beings, of which there are not one in so many millions, whose existence has scarcely been thought of, come in a critical hour, interpose their power, uphold a n.o.ble establishment, and at once defeat all the workings of intrigue, envy, and ingrat.i.tude, partakes of that providential character of events to which all others are secondary. This is the second time that such an interposition has occurred as regards the greatest theatrical inst.i.tution of the country. If there existed in reality such a random power as _chance_, such events could scarcely be reckoned amongst its casualties.

If there could be any one so devoid of love for what is really good and really great, as not to be inspired by interest in the eventful life we have so very superficially sketched, they need only to repair to the theatre where our heroine appears, for them to change their disposition.

Nothing ever could resist, off the stage or on it, the sterling merit either of Countess Rossi, or of Madame Sontag.

SKETCHES OF THE COUNTESS DE ROSSI,

BY VARIOUS CELEBRATED WRITERS.

PEN AND INK PORTRAIT

OF

HENRIETTE SONTAG,

BY

MARIE AYCARD.

TWO centuries ago, under the dominion of a great king, when intellect and wit were the daily pastimes--at that brilliant period when gallantry was a habit and politeness a duty--there was a charming fas.h.i.+on; which was to reproduce in writing, the description of the character, person, and talents of those who had any claim to celebrity. This fas.h.i.+on of pen-and-ink portraits, consecrated by La Rochefoucauld, who sketched his own--by Madame Lafayette, who sketched that of her ill.u.s.trious friend--has disappeared with the great names, the great sayings, and the great doings of those days, when toil and money-getting were not the only objects of life.

Occupied, however, Madam, like all other people, as I am, I shall find time to trace, with a rapid and truthful pen, those eminent qualities which all admire in you. Endowed with beauty which attracts, grace which fascinates, you also possess _esprit_ and native refinement, without which every other quality loses its charm. You have a marvellous talent--how shall I describe this! How can we explain by what natural refinement, by what intellectual labor, you have made it at once so grand and so touching! That ineffable voice, which goes directly to the heart, and dwells for ever in the memory of those who hear it--those ever-changing shades of expression--those bold and brilliant embellishments created by good taste, softened by grace, and made inimitable by art--you possess all. Oh, music of the spheres, of which we dream but never hear!--you alone have revealed it, for you alone possess that touching language, at once radiant and heart-thrilling, yet penetrating, like all real beauty, like that divine essence whence you emanate. When you appear on the scene, which you instantly transform into a brilliant saloon, one would think he had been admitted by special favor to one of those courtly representations given to indulge the caprice of some great princess desirous of obtaining those numerous wreaths you know so well how to wear.

How much admiration have you not excited in the different parts you have filled, with equal inspiration and science! How have eyes and ears both been charmed at the "Daughter of the Regiment"--a creation understood and interpreted by yourself alone!--where, in spite of yourself, the harmony of your gestures, the grace of your movements, give to the whole character a mysterious poetry, which infects the very air around you!

With what inimitable art you represent that inimitable _Rosina_, at once so innocent and so cunning, committing with such reckless grace those little sins which make youth so happy, and revealing at the same time the woman who attracts us by the qualities we love and the faults we adore. Ah, whether you express either joy or sorrow, you charm equally--like those privileged natures, you can feel everything, because you can understand everything. You are merciful and charitable--misfortune has never applied to you in vain--never has the cry of the sufferer been listened to by you without reply. Succoring the one, consoling the other, you give to misfortune at once your heart and your gold. Benevolent, obliging, and generous, all those who come to you are received with a gracious modesty which spares them many pangs. You have so much memory for what is required of you--you forget so soon what you give--you appear so happy to oblige--that you seem to be indebted to those whom you serve. Artist and accomplished woman, you possess the two endowments so rare in this world--immense talent and unlimited appreciation. Heaven has given you two n.o.bilities--that of ancestry and that of the soul.

I have nothing more to say--except that I am seeking in vain for an expression to portray so admirable a character. This is your portrait, Madam--and I leave the world to determine whether it is correct.

HENRIETTE SONTAG

(COUNTESS DE ROSSI)

BY MR. SCUDO,[A]

(_Member of the Inst.i.tut Francais._)

AMONG the rare consolations which have lately been vouchsafed to the devotees of music, is the reappearance upon the world's stage of a celebrated artist who had been its ornament. Mademoiselle Sontag, after having enchanted Europe by the beauty of her voice, by her marvellous vocalization, and the charms of her person, suddenly disappeared from the eyes of her numerous admirers, and hid the splendor of an incontestable and painfully acquired reputation under the veil of matrimony. Mademoiselle Sontag became Madame de Rossi. She exchanged a diadem for the coronet of a countess, and the graceful Muse became an humble amba.s.sadress. A political revolution, which overturned society, was necessary to restore to us the eminent vocalist whom we have so much admired. Madame de Rossi, who, most happily for our enjoyment, has lost her emba.s.sy and a part of her fortune, as we are a.s.sured, has again become Mademoiselle Sontag. After having astonished the fas.h.i.+onable world of London, which received her during the past winter with great distinction, Mademoiselle Sontag has determined to present herself also, after a silence of twenty years, before that Parisian public whose discriminating acclamations formed then the most brilliant portion of her fame. We have heard her at six concerts which she has given at the Conservatoire; but before expressing our appreciation of a talent yet so admirable, we may be permitted, perhaps, to speak briefly of the youth of this celebrated woman, who has been so tried by destiny.

[A] Scudo was a pupil of the great Choron, an intimate of Rossini, and has had the entree of all the most distinguished musical circles on the continent for the past thirty years. He is a prominent contributor to the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, the _Revue de Paris_, and the _Revue Independant_, from one of which publications this article is taken.--_Note of the Translator._

Henriette Sontag was born at Coblentz in Prussia, of one of those families of German comedians of which Goethe has given us such a poetic description in his _Wilhelm Meister_. Coming to the light like the halcyon, upon the crests of stormy waves, she early knew the vicissitudes and trials of an artist's life. At the age of six years she made her first appearance at Darmstadt in _Das Donauweibchen_ (The Daughter of the Danube), an opera very popular in Germany, where, in the character of _Salome_, she won admiration for her childish grace and just intonation. Three years afterwards, having lost her father, Henriette Sontag went to Prague with her mother, where she played children's parts, under the direction of Weber, who was then director of the orchestra of the theatre. Her precocious success obtained for her, by singular favor, permission to enter the Academy of Music of that City, although she had not yet reached the age required by its rules.

There, for four years she studied vocal music, the piano-forte, and the elements of vocalization. An indisposition of the _prima donna_ of the theatre gave her the opportunity to appear for the first time in a part of some importance, that of the _Princess of Navarre_ in Boildieu's opera, _John of Paris_. She was then fifteen. The flexibility of her voice, her budding charms which announced her future beauty, the agitation which stirred her heart and filled it with mysterious presentiments, secured for her a success which augured well for the future of her professional life. From Prague, Henriette Sontag went to Vienna, where she met Madame Mainville-Fodor, whose example and good counsels developed the rich gifts which she had received from nature.

Singing alternately German and Italian opera, she was able to prove her powers in these two strongly contrasting languages, and to choose with deliberation between the dazzling caprices of Italian music and the sober and profound accents of the new German school. An engagement having been offered her, to sing in German opera, at the theatre of Leipzig, she went to that city, the centre of the philosophical and literary discussion, and acquired a great reputation by the manner in which she interpreted Weber's _Der Freyschutz_ and _Euryanthe_.

The admirers of the genius of this great composer were chiefly the young men of the Universities, and all those ardent and generous spirits who wished to disenthral Germany from foreign rule, as well in the realm of fancy as in that of politics; they sounded with enthusiasm the praises of Mademoiselle Sontag, whose name was known throughout Germany as that of a virtuoso of the first order, born to renew the marvels of Mara. It was at Leipzig that Mara, that famous German singer of the close of the eighteenth century, was educated under the care of the venerable Professor Hiller. It was vouchsafed to M'lle Sontag to dedicate a magnificent organ and a vocalization almost unknown on that side of the Rhine, to the performance of the vigorous and profound music of Weber, Beethoven, Spohr, and all those new German composers who, severing all alliance with foreign scepticism, had given freedom to the national genius. Overwhelmed with homage, celebrated by all the brilliant men of the day, the students singing her praises, and followed by the _hourras_ of the German press, Mademoiselle Sontag was called to Berlin, where she appeared with immense success at the theatre of Koenigstadt. It was at Berlin, it will be remembered, that _Der Freyschutz_ was represented for the first time. It was at Berlin, a protestant and rationalistic city, the centre of an intellectual and political movement which sought to concentrate within itself the life of Germany, at the expense of Catholic Vienna, in which reigned the spirit of tradition, sensuality, the gaiety and the light melodies of Italy; it was at Berlin, we say, that the new school of dramatic music founded by Weber, had taken foothold. Mademoiselle Sontag was received with enthusiasm as an inspired interpretress of the national music. The Hegelian philosophers found in her a subject for their learned commentaries, and they recognised in her limpid and sonorous voice "_the subjective blended with the objective in an absolute unity_." The old King of Prussia received her at court with parental kindness. It was there that diplomacy had occasion to make approaches to M'lle Sontag, and to effect a breach in the heart of the muse.

Availing herself of a leave of absence which had been granted her, M'lle Sontag came finally to Paris, and appeared at the Italian Theatre on the fifteenth of June, 1826, in the part of _Rosina_ in _Il Barbiere di Seviglia_. Her success was brilliant, especially in Rode's variations, which she introduced in the second act during the singing lesson. This success she at once confirmed and increased in _La Donna del Lago_ and _L'Italiana in Algieri_; many pa.s.sages of which, written for a contralto voice, she was obliged to transpose. Upon her return to Berlin she was received with redoubled manifestations of interest. She remained in this city until the close of the year 1826; when, abandoning Germany, and the school which had formed her in the very sanctuary of its nationality, she fixed herself at Paris. M'lle Sontag first appeared in the character of _Desdemona_ in the opera _Otello_, on the second of January, 1828.

She was one of that constellation of admirable virtuosos who at that epoch charmed Paris and London; and among whom Madame Pasta, Mad.

Pisaroni, Mad. Malibran, and M'lle Sontag shone as stars of the first magnitude.

Between the last two vocalists, so different in their styles, there was declared one of those fruitful rivalries of which Hoffman has given us so dramatic a picture. This rivalry was pushed so far between the imperious Juno and the blonde Venus that they could not remain together in the same room. Upon the stage, when they sang in the same opera, which happened in _Don Giovanni_ or _Semiramide_, their stupendous jealousy manifested itself by malicious cadenzas and rockets of sound which inflamed their hearers. Now it was the Trojans burst all bonds, and now the Greeks. The parterre rose and fell like the waves of the sea under the touch of the divinities of Olympus. At last, one day Mad.

Malibran and M'lle Sontag having to sing a duett at a princely mansion, the fusion of two voices so different in quality and in the character of their expression, produced so grand an effect that the success of the two great vocalists worked their reconciliation. From that moment a calm rested _sul mare infido_.

Even in the midst of such successes and festivals of art, a black spot shows itself upon the horizon: diplomacy labored secretly to work confusion--its protocols became menacing, and it was suddenly announced that M'lle Sontag was about to quit the stage to devote herself to more serious duties. For a year past she had been secretly married to a Count de Rossi, who was no longer willing to share his happiness with the world. M'lle Sontag took leave of the Parisian public at a performance for the benefit of the poor, which was given at the opera, in January of 1830. Upon her return to Berlin, her friends and numerous admirers won her consent to give a few representations, and she quitted the stage definitively two months before the revolution of July. But before entering upon the new path of life which she had chosen, and before laying aside the brilliant renown which had been so justly acquired, M'lle Sontag went a journey to Russia, giving at Warsaw, Moscow, St.

Petersburgh, and afterwards at Hamburg and other princ.i.p.al cities of Germany, concerts equally brilliant and profitable.

It was after this journey that, under the name of the Countess de Rossi, following the fortunes of her husband, she pa.s.sed successively many years at Brussels, the Hague, Frankfort, and Berlin, heard only in those a.s.semblies of the distinguished societies of Europe which the revolution of February has shaken to its very foundations.

Mademoiselle Sontag possesses a soprano voice of unusual compa.s.s, of great equality, and of a marvellous flexibility. From the middle _Do_ to that in _alt_, this voice has the sweet ring of a silver bell, and never need we fear either a doubtful intonation or an ill-balanced phrase in her wonderful displays of vocalization. This rare flexibility of organ is the result of incessant labor, judiciously directed to the development of the munificent gifts of nature. Until her arrival at Vienna, where she had opportunity to hear the great virtuosos of Italy, M'lle Sontag had been guided only by her own happy instincts, and the tastes, more or less cultivated, of the public before whom she sang. It is to the counsels of Madame Maineville-Fodor, and yet more to the example which the admirable talent of this exquisite singer set daily before her, that M'lle Sontag owes the expanding of those native powers which till then had rested, folded as it were, within their bud. The contest with such rivals as Mad. Pisaroni and Mad. Malibran--those heroic combats which she had to sustain upon the stages of Vienna, Paris, and London--accomplished for her talent that degree of full and satisfying maturity which has made M'lle Sontag one of the most brilliant singers of Europe.