a, 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.

Her genius as a tragedienne surpassed her talent as a singer. When on
the stage she was no longer Pasta, but Tancredi, Romeo, Desdemona,
Medea, or Semiramide. Ebers tells us in his "Seven Years of the King's
Theatre": "Nothing could have been more free from trick or affectation
than Pasta's performance. There is no perceptible effort to resemble a
character she plays; on