"The rehearsals were merry meetings, and when our own bawling was over Madame Rossi went through her songs as scrupulously as the rest. I shall never forget the impression she excited one evening. We were all united in the great ball-room at the Governor's castle in Revel, which was partially illuminated for the occasion, and, having wound up our last noisy 'Firmament,' we all retreated to distant parts of the salle, leaving the Countess to rehearse the celebrated Scena from the Freischütz with the instrumental parts. She was seated in the midst, and completely hidden by the figures and desks around her. And now arose a strain of melody and expression which thrills every nerve to recall;—the interest and pathos creeping gradually on through every division of this most noble and passionate of songs,—the gloomy light,—the invisible songstress,—all combining to increase the effect, till the feeling became almost too intense to bear. And then the horn in the distance, and the husky voice of suppressed agony whilst doubt possessed her soul, chilled the blood in our veins, and her final burst, 'Er ist's, Er ist's,' was one of agony to her audience. Tears, real tears, ran down cheeks, both fair and rough, who knew not and cared not that they were there; and not until the excitement had subsided did I feel that my wrist had been clenched in so convulsive a grasp by my neighbor as to retain marks long after the siren had ceased. I have heard Schröder and Malibran, both grand and true in this composition, but neither searched the depths of its passionate tones, and with it the hearts of the audience, so completely as the matchless Madame Rossi."
Three years thus happily spent, in 1842, Count Rossi obtained leave of absence to visit his family, then residing at Vienna, and the Countess accompanied her husband. Those who visited Vienna before the late revolution, cannot forget the state of society which prevailed in the Austrian capital, the chief abode of taste and pleasure in that quarter of the globe. The circles of society were defined as rigorously and irrevocably as the boundaries of the little principalities on a German map, and with this difference that there was no debatable land. Amidst the nobility itself resident at Vienna, there was an exclusive circle formed, whose exclusiveness was two-fold, being in the ratio not only of rank, but of fashion. This circle, consisting of those who were once the great feudal lords of the overgrown empire, of the mediatized princes, of the nobles who had the highest rank and the greatest power, with a sprinkling of those who had the greatest talent to amuse society—there was formed a crême de la crême—a social oligarchy of exclusiveness, without example in any other capital. Over this Olympus of gods and demi-gods, the Prince Metternich, the greatest diplomatist of the age of Napoleon, and a functionary with all the reality, although without the title of imperial rule, together with his handsome and witty consort, ruled supreme. The frost-work, which excluded so many persons of the highest pretensions, whether travellers or residents, at once dissolved under the gentle influence of Madame de Rossi, as soon as she arrived in Vienna. In the sanctuary of princes and princesses, in the innermost penetralia of the most mysterious rites of fashion, Madame de Rossi spent the time of her short residence in Vienna, delighting those assemblies she visited by occasional snatches of song, and giving matinées musicales with amateurs, which were thronged by the highest personages. By her amiability, her talents, and virtues, she laid at Vienna the foundation of more than one enduring friendship.
Prussia having become the punctum saliens of diplomacy in the Northern world, the Sardinian Cabinet removed Count Rossi, as its representative, to Berlin, in 1843. At this dilettante Court, where she was considered in the light of a countrywoman, and one of the boasts of the "Faderland," and in that capital, where, a few years before, she had exacted so often unbounded enthusiasm, Madame de Rossi was received with the warmest welcome. The Berlinese contemplated her noble bearing in her new position with the deepest interest.
From the Court she experienced the highest favor. The present King of Prussia is a great lover of music. It is true that, like almost every German melomane of the present day, he mistakes entirely the natural boundaries which essentially separate and distinguish from each other the different species of music; he places on the stage music only fitted for cathedrals, where religious fervor upholds and vivifies the ponderous form of massive harmony; and he does not discern that dramatic lyrical music should speak directly to the feelings through the words, the inspiration always melodical, the ruling themes and dramatic objects ever distinct, and not overlaid by science nor drowned by noise, and thus adapted to the enjoyment of the mass of educated men, and not made alone for the few adepts and pedantic lovers of abstruse lore. Still is the Prussian monarch a devoted lover of music; and in his répertoire he occasionally admits the older composers, those whose strains, like Mozart's and Glück's, required no reasoning, no scientific study, to be felt, but were at once comprehended, and charmed the ear and touched the heart. In the execution of these works, in the private circle of the King and Queen, Madame de Rossi was an immense acquisition. Happy were those who could obtain an entrance into the royal precincts when the Iphigénie en Aulide of Glück was sung. Nothing can exceed the effect of the noble strains of Piccini's conqueror when interpreted by our great vocalist.
In Berlin, the home of the Countess Rossi was habitually the resort of every personage exalted in rank, as well as of the famosi of science, art, and literature, such as Humboldt, Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer, &c. The Princess of Prussia, who holds so distinguished a position, by her tastes and her virtues, amongst the princesses of the Continent, honored Madame de Rossi with the most affectionate regard, whilst that illustrious melomane and excellent prince, the Grand Duke of Mecklenburgh Strelitz, finding so much goodness united with so much talent, treated her almost as a daughter—the Count and Countess passing three months every season at Strelitz.
No traveller distinguished by rank, or illustrious in art or literature, passed through the Prussian capital, without visiting the salons of the Countess Rossi.
The King of Bavaria, who had heard so much reported of the talents and virtues of Madame de Rossi, visited Berlin in 1846. To gratify his desire to behold and hear her, the Princess of Prussia assembled at her house a réunion of the élite of society, and specially invited Madame de Rossi. The King felt deeply the charm of her looks, her manners, and conversation, whilst her singing wound him up to poetical enthusiasm. Under its effect, he wrote the following stanzas, which created an immense sensation at the time. They possess, apart their object, the intrinsic attraction of the highest poetry; but, unfortunately, the language is scarcely translatable, and still less can we do justice in prose to the peculiar German spirit with which the poem is fraught:—
I.
Hoch hat dich der Herr gesegnet,
Gab dir des Gesanges Macht!
Glücklich welcher dir begegnet
In des Zweifels banger Nacht.
II.