ion condone the impression made by his ugliness.

At his first appearance on the boards of the Odeon, he was saluted with
the most insulting outbursts of laughter and smothered ejaculations
of "Why, he's a hunchback!" Being accustomed to this kind of greeting,
Tacchinardi tranquilly walked to the footlights and bowed. "Gentlemen,"
he said, addressing the pit, "I am not here to exhibit my person, but
to sing. Have the goodness to hear me." They did hear him, and when he
ceased the theatre rang with plaudits: there was no more laughter. His
personal disadvantages were redeemed by one of the finest and
purest tenor voices ever given by nature and refined by art, by his
extraordinary intelligence, by an admirable method of singing, an
exquisite taste in fioriture, and facility of execution.

Fanny Tacchinardi was the second daughter of the deformed tenor, born at
Rome, October 4, 1818, three years after Tacchinardi had returned again
to his native land. Fanny's passion for music betrayed itself in her
earliest lisps, and it was not ignored by Tacchinardi, who gave her
lessons on the piano and in singing. At nine she could play with
considerable intelligence and precision, and sing with grace her
father's ariettas and _duettini_ with her sister Elisa, who was not only
an excellent pianist, but a good general musician and composer. The girl
grew apace in her art feeling and capacity, for at eleven she took part
in an opera as prima donna at a little theatre which her father had
built near his country place, just out of Florence. Tacchinardi was,
however, very averse to a professional career for his daughter, in spite
of the powerful bent of her tastes and the girl's pleadings. He had been
_chanteur de chambre_ since 1822 for the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and
in the many concerts and other public performances over which he was
director his daughter frequently appeared, to the great delight of
amateurs. Fanny even at this early age had a voice of immense compass,
though somewhat lacking in sweetness and flexibility, defects which she
subsequently overcame by study and practice. As the best antidote to
the sweet stage poison which already began to run riot in her veins,
her father brought about an early marriage for the immature girl, and
in 1830 she was united to Joseph Persiani, an operatic composer of some
merit, though not of much note. She resided with her husband in her
father's house for several years, carefully secluded as