The greatest contralto of the middle of the century was undoubtedly Marietta Alboni, the daughter of a custom-house officer of Casena,[{90}] Romagna. She was born in 1822, and, like most of the great singers, showed her talent early. She was placed under good teachers, and attracted the attention of Rossini by her beautiful voice. He took so much interest in her that he gave her instruction in some of her parts. Thus she had the honor of being Rossini's only pupil.
In 1842 she made her first appearance in opera, and was soon after engaged at La Scala, Milan, where she remained for four years. After this she appeared at Vienna, and then she travelled through Europe, creating a general furore.
Alboni was not an actress,—she was a singer simply and absolutely, and her singing was such as to carry everything before it. The tones of her voice were rich, full, mellow, and liquid,—sumptuous, they have been called,—and of a pure and sympathetic quality. It was not even, for the upper register was thin. Her articulation was[{91}] perfectly clear and fluent, even in the most difficult passages, and her style and method were considered models. Her figure, though large, was graceful and commanding, and her disposition was amiable. She was both independent and dignified. While in Germany, and comparatively unknown, she declined to seek the favor of the press, preferring to trust to the judgment of the public.
Once upon a time, when Madame Alboni was at Trieste, she was informed of the existence of a plot to hiss her off the stage. Having ascertained the names of her detractors and where they were to be found, she donned male attire, in which her short hair and robust figure helped to complete her disguise, and went to the café at which the conspirators met. Here she found them in full consultation, and, taking a seat at a table, she listened to their conversation for a time. After awhile she addressed the leader, saying: "I hear that you intend to play a trick[{92}] upon some one. I am very fond of a little practical joke myself, and should be glad if you would allow me to join you on this occasion."
"With pleasure," was the reply; "we intend to hiss an opera singer off the stage this evening."
"Indeed, and of what is she guilty?"
"Oh, nothing except that, being an Italian, she has sung in Munich and Vienna to German audiences, and we think she ought to receive some castigation for her unpatriotic conduct."
"I agree with you,—and now please tell me what I am to do."
"Take this whistle," said the leader. "At a signal to be given at the conclusion of the air sung by Rosina, the noise will begin, and you will have to join in."
"I shall be very glad to do so," replied the singer, and put the whistle in her pocket.