genius of her husband, and speedily persuaded him to
retire from such a narrow sphere. Lablache devoted
a year to the serious study of singing, and to emancipating
himself from the Neapolitan patois which up to this
time had clung to him, after which he became primo
basso at the Palermitan opera. He was now twenty,
and his voice had become developed into that suave
and richly toned organ, such as was never bestowed
on another man, ranging two octaves from E flat below
to E flat above the bass stave. An offer from
the manager of La Scala, Milan, gratified his ambition,
and he made his
debut in 1817 as Dandini in
“La Cenerentola.” His splendid singing
and acting made him brilliantly successful; but Lablache
was not content with this. His industry and attempts
at improvement were incessant. In fact this singer
was remarkable through life, not merely for his professional
ambition, but the zeal with which he sought to enlarge
his general stores of knowledge and culture.
M. Scudo, in his agreeable recollections of Italian
singers, informs us that at Naples Lablache had enjoyed
the friendship and teaching of
Mme. Mericoffre
(a rich banker’s wife), known in Italy as La
Cottellini, one of the finest artists of the golden
age of Italian singing.
Mme. Lablache, too,
was a woman of genius in her way, and her husband
owed much to her intelligent and watchful criticism.
The fume of Lablache speedily spread through Europe.
He sang in all the leading Italian cities with equal
success, and at Vienna, whither he went in 1824, his
admirers presented him with a magnificent gold medal
with a most flattering inscription.
He returned again to Naples after an absence of twelve
years, and created a grand sensation at the San Carlo
by his singing of Assur, in “Semiramide.”
The Neapolitans loaded him with honors, and sought
to retain him in his native city, but this “pent-up
Utica” could not hold a man to whom the most
splendid rewards of his profession were offering themselves.
Lablache made his first appearance in London, in 1830,
in “Il Matrimonio Segreto,” and almost
from his first note and first step he took an irresistible
hold on the English public, which lasted for nearly
a quarter of a century. It perplexed his admirers
whether he was greater as a singer or as an actor.
We are told that he “was gifted with personal
beauty to a rare degree. A grander head was never
more grandly set on human shoulders; and in his case
time and the extraordinary and unwieldy corpulence
which came with time seemed only to improve the Jupiter
features, and to enhance their expression of majesty,
or sweetness, or sorrow, or humor as the scene demanded.”
His very tall figure prevented his bulk from appearing
too great. One of his boots would have made a
small portmanteau, and one could have clad a child
in one of his gloves. So great was his strength
that as Leporello he sometimes carried off
under one arm a singer of large stature representing