condone the insult offered to a species of literary religion by the wretched stuff pitchforked together and called a libretto.  But the genius of Pasta made them forget even this, and London bowed at her feet with as devout a recognition as that offered by the more fickle Parisians.  Her chaste and noble style, untortured by meretricious ornament, excited the deepest admiration.  Count Stendhal, the biographer of Rossini, seems to have heard her for the first time at London, and writes of her in the following fashion: 

“Moderate in the use of embellishments, Mme. Pasta never employs them but to heighten the force of the expression; and, what is more, her embellishments last only just so long as they are found to be useful.”  In this respect her manner formed a very strong contrast with that of the generality of Italian singers at the time, who were more desirous of creating astonishment than of giving pleasure.  It was not from any lack of technical knowledge and vocal skill that Mme. Pasta avoided extravagant ornamentation, for in many of the concerted pieces—­in which she chiefly shone—­her execution united clearness and rapidity.  “Mme. Pasta is certainly less exuberant in point of ornament, and more expressive in point of majesty and simplicity,” observed one critic, “than any of the first-class singers who have visited England for a long period....  She is also a mistress of art,” continues the same writer, “and, being limited by nature, she makes no extravagant use of her powers, but employs them with the tact and judgment that can proceed only from an extraordinary mind.  This constitutes her highest praise; for never did intellect and industry become such perfect substitutes for organic superiority.  Notwithstanding her fine vein of imagination and the beauty of her execution, she cultivates high and deep passions, and is never so great as in the adaptation of art to the purest purposes of expression.”

The production of “Tancredi” and of Zingarelli’s “Romeo e Giulietta” followed as the vehicles of Pasta’s genius for the pleasure of the English public, and the season was closed with “Semiramide,” in which her regal majesty seemed to embody the ideal conception of the Assyrian queen.  The scene in the first act where the specter of her murdered consort appears she made so thrilling and impressive that some of the older opera-goers compared it to the wonderful acting of Garrick in the “ghost-scene” of “Hamlet”; and those when she learns that Arsace is her son, and when she falls by his hand before the tomb of Ninus, were recounted in after-years as among the most startling memories of a lifetime.  During her London season Mme. Pasta went much into society, and her exalted fame, united with her amiable manners, made her everywhere sought after.  Immense sums were paid her at private concerts, and her subscription concerts at Almack’s were the rage of the town.  Her operatic salary of L14,000 was nearly doubled by her income from other sources.