excitement.  Out of these uncouth and rebellious materials she had to compose her instrument, and then to give it flexibility.  Chor-ley, in speaking of these difficulties, says:  “The volubility and brilliancy, when acquired, gained a character of their own from the resisting peculiarities of her organ.  There were a breadth, an expressiveness in her roulades, an evenness and solidity in her shake, which imparted to every passage a significance beyond the reach of more spontaneous singers.”  But, after all, the true secret of her greatness was in the intellect and imagination which lay behind the voice, and made every tone quiver with dramatic sensibility.

The lyric Siddons of her age was now on the verge of making her real debut.  When she reappeared in Venice, in 1819, she made a great impression, which was strengthened by her subsequent performances in Rome, Milan, and Trieste, during that and the following year.  The fastidious Parisians recognized her power in the autumn of 1821, when she sang at the Theatre Italien; and at Verona, during the Congress of 1822, she was received with tremendous enthusiasm.  She returned to Paris the same year, and in the opera of “Romeo e Giulietta” she exhibited such power, both in singing and acting, as to call from the French critics the most extravagant terms of praise.  Mme. Pasta was then laying the foundation of one of the most dazzling reputations ever gained by prima donna.  By sheer industry she had extended the range of her voice to two octaves and a half—­from A above the bass clef note to C flat, and even to D in alt.  Her tones had become rich and sweet, except when she attempted to force them beyond their limits; her intonation was, however, never quite perfect, being occasionally a little flat.  Her singing was pure and totally divested of all spurious finery; she added little to what was set down by the composer, and that little was not only in good taste, but had a great deal of originality to recommend it.  She possessed deep feeling and correct judgment.  Her shake was most beautiful; Signor Pacini’s well-known cavatina, “Il soave e bel contento”—­the peculiar feature of which consisted in the solidity and power of a sudden shake, contrasted with the detached staccato of the first bar—­was written for Mme. Pasta.  Some of her notes were sharp almost to harshness, but this defect with the greatness of genius she overcame, and even converted into a beauty; for in passages of profound passion her guttural tones were thrilling.  The irregularity of her lower notes, governed thus by a perfect taste and musical tact, aided to a great extent in giving that depth of expression which was one of the principal charms of her singing; indeed, these lower tones were peculiarly suited for the utterance of vehement passion, producing an extraordinary effect by the splendid and unexpected contrast which they enabled her to give to the sweetness of the upper tones, causing a kind of musical discordance indescribably pathetic and melancholy.  Her accents were so plaintive, so penetrating, so profoundly tragical, that no one could resist their influence.