wonder at the singular good luck of its two junior | the colonel and Captain Seaton with him, enter vig members. We had hitherto been rather treated as -what indeed we were little better than a couple of school-boys; but now seldom a day came but we were at the colonel's, who rarely encouraged visitors save on special and state occasions; or, more usually still, at the Crow's Nest, which, though heretofore regarded rather as a dragon's den, was now vainly besieged by military and civil, male and female, alike desirous of knowing the beautiful Miss Margaret Crab. The doctor was inexorable. Cards, of course, were politely returned, but invitations as politely declined. A large picnic given by the mess could not tempt him, nor was Mrs. Crab to be won over, although specially invited. Miss Maggie herself seemed quite to acquiesce. orously into a game of blind-man's-buff, or tick, until as the victimized colonel remarked, a day in the tropics was nothing to it. Lobley of course joined in these diversions, though to a less extent. There was a mutual coolness between him and Mrs. Crab, that worthy dame having a decided antipathy to younger sons, while Lobley himself had as great a dislike to Professor Totley's pills, not having the discretion or, shall we say, hypocrisy of your humble servant, who pocketed every pill-box that was offered him, and quietly threw it away as soon as convenient. "I don't really care to know any one else, Mr. Tombs," she said one day, when I questioned her on the subject. "Uncle and aunt, Colonel and Mrs. Cox, the Seatons, dear Mary," that was Miss Cox, and, though last not least, Mr. Lobley and yourself, are quite enough for all practical purposes. I've got over my school-girl admiration of a red coat," she was n't more than my own age, I'm certain," and would far rather have such a cosey little party as we had last night at the colonel's than any amount of violent dissipation. Besides but you are too young to understand what I was going to say." Fancy that to a six months' old ensign in the Slashers! "Well, don't look cross, and I'll tell you. You know if there really was anything going on which I should like to be at, I could easily coax uncle and the dear old colonel into taking me, and meanwhile-" Meanwhile, your ladyship's acquaintance is the more sought after because people can't get it," I interrupted. "Your penetration does you credit, sir. You are improving, I must say. If you could but produce a pair of nice whiskers I might fancy you quite a man." "Confound" 'There, don't use naughty words. I'm going into the garden, and you may come with me if you like." - Moreover, my brother sub was hardly of my childish state of mind, and having had the starch taken out of his shirt-collar and his nose injured against a tree while playing blind-man's-buff on a certain occasion, when Miss Maggie contrived that he should continue blindfold for nearly half an hour, he had declared that he didn't care for so much romping. However, he was quite considered as one of our little party, or, as Fullarton expressed it, one of the partners in the firm of Cox, Crab, and Co. Of course we had to run the gauntlet of plenty of senseless jokes from the mess. Crab in all shapes and forms-curried, grilled, and cold—was ordered for our special edification. On one occasion, on entering my room late at night, I found half a dozen living specimens crawling sideways about the floor; on another, the sharp claws and cold body of the same marine delicacy-boiled, however, this time caused me to jump out of bed in no little consternation. Lobley fared no better. We were dignified with the title of the Infant Crabs; had the pleasure of seeing a meaning smile pass round the table as we rose before the decanters had gone twice round, and of hearing the doctor, his wife, and niece made the subject of a hundred pointed remarks, which, however ridiculous to look back upon now, were sufficiently galling at the time. However, it was only harmless chaff after all. I had sense enough even then to understand that the pleasant social evenings at the colonel's, the quiet rubbers at Captain Seaton's, and little suppers at the Crow's Nest, with the accompaniment of an innocent flirtation In sober earnest nothing could have been more with the fair Maggie, were far preferable, as well as fortunate for me in every way than the intimate more profitable to mind and body, than sitting over familiarity into which I was admitted at the sur-cards and claret in the mess-room till the small geon's and colonel's. With all his eccentricities Dr. hours. However, whether I thought so then or not, Crab was, at the bottom, a most kindly-hearted, I certainly do now. sensible man, and his friendship, when he chose to bestow it, was real and valuable, especially to an impulsive youngster like myself. To a much greater degree might this be said of the colonel. A thorough gentleman and soldier, of splendid family, noted as one of the crack commanding officers of his day, possessing the utmost esteem of all his officers and perfectly adored by the men, no wonder I felt proud of being noticed by him. With an ample fortune, a nice house on the banks of the Shannon, a kind, ladylike wife, and a family of well-educated, merry children of all ages, from the pretty Mary of eighteen down to a bright-eyed young toddles of five, I was only too glad to avail myself of their kindness. I was still boy enough to join in the youngsters' games. Many a romp did we all Mary Cox and Maggie Crab included - have on the smooth lawn which sloped gently down to the waters of the finest river in Ireland, while the seniors sat at the open dining-room windows and applauded. Nay, more than once did Dr. Crab put down his meerschaum, and forcibly dragging THE GREAT SINGERS OF THE LAST CENTURY. A IN the beginning of the last century music had attained a high degree of perfection, being cultivated throughout Europe with considerable success. great impulse to its prosperity was derived from the number of fine singers that then appeared. This stimulated the efforts of composers, who could always command a ready market for their wares where the managers of theatres had within reach such artistes as would "fill the house," or, in other words, make it a paying concern. As far as talent was concerned, therefore, the lessees had no reason to complain. Singers appeared in rapid succession, and it was difficult, if not in some cases impossible, to determine which of them was the best. So many unrivalled vocalists were probably owing to the various schools of music that towards the close of the sixteenth century were established on the Continent, more especially in the chief towns of Italy. In these art. academies the course of musical education was strict | came places of general resort. Playgoers were, and complete. It was therefore to be expected that however, at this time deprived of one of their stars. if favored by nature, as many of them were, the Mrs. Tofts was obliged to quit the stage in the mepupils would in after life attain eminence in their ridian of fame and beauty, from symptoms of incipThis really was the case, as the following ac-ient insanity. The "Tatler" alludes to this in uncount of some of the singers of that period will feeling terms. Mrs. Tofts afterwards married, and prove. removed with her husband to Venice. Here her old disorder returned, and with intermitting violence afflicted her to the time of her demise, that is, for a long period of fifty years, as she died in 1760. Her place was supplied by some good English singers, Mrs. Cross, Mrs. Lindesay, and others. One termed "The Baroness," a foreigner, was likewise a favorite, as also Cassani and Isabella Girardean. The first name on the list is Francesca Margherita de l'Epine. She came to England from Italy in 1692, and was accompanied by a German of the name of Greber. The wits of the day called her "Greber's Peg." Margherita was in all likelihood the earliest importation of an Italian singer into our country. The London Gazette of that date speaks of her as "the Italian lady, that is lately There seems, however, to have been, after Mrs. come over, that is so famous for singing." Her per- Tofts' retirement, a dearth of good singers for about formances at concerts and operas fully justified this ten years. The deficiency was supplied by making announcement. She was not only a good singer, Niccolini the centre of attraction. How this was but a skilful player on what we call the piano; add-done is familiar to the readers of the "Spectator." ing to both these accomplishments an excellent knowledge of music. With all this, she by no means elicited universal admiration. Swift- but he had no appreciation of music-in his "Journal to Stella," speaks of her slightingly. "We have a music meeting in our town (Windsor) to-night. I went to the rehearsal of it, and there was Margherita, and her sister, and another drab, and a parcel of fiddlers." Perhaps one ground of Swift's dissatisfaction lay in this, that " Peg" was no beauty. Her want of personal charms, however, did not keep her from getting a husband. We find that after she had been about twenty years in London, and had out of her professional earnings saved some £10,000, she was induced to yield to the courtship of the famous Dr. Pepusch, arranger of the airs in the "Beggars' Opera. After matrimony she retired from the stage, and received, on account of her swarthy complexion, the nickname of " Hecate "from her husband. This rather uncomplimentary appellation she submitted to with good humor. She appeared to contemplate with thankfulness the release which her fortune had accomplished for poor Pepusch out of the care and poverty which so many of his profession are called on to endure. We are not, however, to suppose that Margherita or her sister had sole possession of the "boards," for a very formidable rival sprang up in the person of Mrs. Tofts. Margherita was the "star" of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and Mrs. | Tofts made her débût in Lincoln's Inn Fields. The conflicting claims of these songstresses were espoused by the public, and frequent disturbances in consequence took place. Margherita was often hissed and hooted, and once struck with an orange. This fruity missile, however, it is due to the male sex to say, -was winged by a female arm. Time, that cures so many things, healed the breach between these two vocalists, and we find them singing in the same opera with Niccolini, who had recently arrived in England, and of whom we shall now say a few words. - Cavaliere Niccolini Grimaldi, a Neapolitan by birth, arrived in London about the year 1708. He was attracted by (as he was informed) the rage prevalent amongst us for foreign operas. The high reputation which he brought with him he sustained, according to the testimony of Sir Richard Steele, in the Tatler," a critic not likely to have been, as the patentee of an English theatre, very lenient to the faults of a foreign artiste. Niccolini was not merely a superior vocalist, but a superb actor, and possessed of a fine person. He was a great addition to the London company, and the theatres be .. Those who are accustomed to peruse its pages will remember all that is said of Niccolini's combat with the lion, "which," says Addison, "has been very often exhibited to the general satisfaction of most of the nobility and gentry in the kingdom of Great Britain." "The Spectator" pays a high tribute to Niccolini's powers as an actor and singer, lamenting that the great artiste was forced to comply with the wretched tastes of the age. Nothing can be more amusing than the description of the different representatives of the lion. "It was confidently affirmed," says the " Spectator," "that there would be a tame lion sent from the Tower every opera night,... and that the lion was a cousin-german of the tiger who made his appearance in King William's days. Many, likewise, were the conjectures of the treatment which this lion was to meet with from the hands of Niccolini. Some supposed that he was to subdue him in recitative, as Orpheus used to serve the wild beasts in his time, and afterwards to knock him on the head. .... The lion has been changed upon the audience three several times: the first lion was a candle-snuffer, who being a fellow of a testy, choleric temper, overdid his part, and would not suffer himself to be killed so early as he ought to have done. Besides, it was objected against him that he reared himself so high upon his hinder paws, and walked in so erect a posture, that he looked more like an old man than a lion. The second lion was a tailor by trade. If the former was too furious, this was too sheepish for his part. It is said, indeed, that he once gave him a rip in his flesh-color doublet, but this was only to make work for himself in his private character as a tailor. The acting lion at present is, as I am informed, a country gentleman, who does it for his diversion, but desires his name may be concealed." This extract gives us some idea of prevalent theatrical tastes. Such were not indulged in for the first time, as they had already been displayed in the case of the opera of Camilla. This was composed by one of the Buononcinis, and here Mrs. Tofts was appointed to kill a pig! The personator of this member of the animal creation thus opens his grief to the "Spectator": "I think I was hardly used in not having the part of the lion in Hydaspes given to me; but that of a lion is too great a character for one that never trode the stage before but on two legs. As for the little resistance I made, I hope it may be excused, when it is considered that the dart was thrown at me by so fair a hand. I must confess I had but just put on my brutality; and Camilla's charms were such, that beholding her erect mien, June 2, 1806.] hearing her charming voice, and astonished with her | tress she was very efficient, and quickly gained the graceful motion, I could not keep up my assumed good-will of the theatre by her modest deportment fierceness, and died like a man." These stage foi- and her pleasing, expressive, though not by any bles were brought into requisition by even Handel, means beautiful countenance. in "Rinaldo," the first of the long series of operas produced in London. "As I was walking in the streets about a fortnight ago," writes Addison, "I saw an ordinary fellow carrying a cage full of little birds upon his shoulder; and as I was wondering with myself what use he would put them to, he was met, very luckily, by an acquaintance who had the same curiosity. Upon his asking him what he had upon his shoulder, he told him that he had been buying sparrows for the opera. Sparrows for the opera' says his friend, licking his lips. What, are they to be roasted?' 'No, no,' says the other; 'they are to enter towards the end of the first act, and to fly about the stage."" · | About the period of Anastasia Robinson's marriage arrived in London one who is memorable as a singer of extraordinary power, Francesca Cuzzoni. She was born at Parma, and made her debut at Venice in 1719. She came to England in 1723, and remained amongst us, in the enjoyment of unimpaired popularity, till 1729, when she returned to Italy. She visited England twice again, but on the last occasion she was old and songless. After this she went to Holland, where she became straitened in her purse, and was put into prison for debt. After delighting Europe with her voice, and receiving the homage of princes and nobles, Cuzzoni passed her closing years in great poverty, and was able to preserve herself from starvation by button-making. "Imperious Cæsar, dead and turned to clay, Handel's arrival in London, and his being intrusted with the management of the Royal Academy, became instrumental in bringing under the notice of the public some of the greatest singers that the world O that that earth, which kept the world in awe, probably has ever heard. He, however, was with Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw." us for some years before the Academy was formed. Cuzzoni's extravagance helped to ruin her, along During this time a songstress made her appearance, with her violent and quarrelsome temper, which arAnastasia Robinson, who deserves notice less from rayed against her the whole musical world. Someher professional ability than the romance of her life. times she would as the saying is-meet with her She was the daughter of a portrait-painter, who, be- match: as when on one occasion, refusing at a recoming afflicted with blindness and a consequent hearsal to sing one of her songs in an opera of Haninability to earn a livelihood by his art, was forced del's, the enraged composer threatened to throw her to bring up his child to the musical profession. For out of the window. No one, however, dared questhis she evinced peculiar aptitude. Her father took tion Cuzzoni's wonderful excellence as a singer. a house in Golden Square, where he gave weekly Her voice, more especially the high notes, possessed concerts or musical conversaziones. These were at- three qualities seldom combined, namely, clearness, tended by some of the first people in the metropolis, sweetness, and flexibility. She not merely evinced and here she gave earnest of those abilities and astonishing skill in the execution of hard passages, accomplishments which she subsequently displayed. but did so in such a way as to veil from view the Her debut was in 1714, in a pasticcio called "Creso," difficulties of the performance. Her interpretation and she continued to enjoy popularity as a principal of pathetic music would dissolve an audience in singer till 1724, when she left the stage. tears, while the refinement which she could bring to Her retirement was supposed to have arisen from bear on notes, either as regards tone or duration, an insult offered by Senesino, a singer we shall elicited the admiration of the learned. Her embelspeak of presently; but the real cause was her mar-lishments, apparently extemporaneous, often enriage-not made public till more than ten years riched a melody, and were always conceived in exafterwards with Lord Peterborough. This noble-cellent taste. Her shake was perfection itself, and man had distinguished himself for bravery during the it seemed as if it would be impossible for her to sing war of the Spanish Succession. Whatever his phys- out of tune. ical bravery may have been, his moral courage does not appear to have been very striking. For a lengthened period he refused to recognize his wife as Lady Peterborough, till forced by circumstances to do so. It was a tardy piece of justice, since her position had exposed her to the taunts of the aristocracy. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu thus writes of her to a friend: "The fair lady rides through the town in the shining berlin of her hero, not to reckon the more solid advantage of £100 a month which 't is said he allows her." The alliance, however, beyond all doubt, was from the beginning honorable. At first, on Lord Peterborough's part, it was intended to be otherwise; but the object of his attentions at once betrayed the utmost indignation at such a proposal. Lord Peterborough, too much smitten with her charms to abandon his suit, wooed and won her honorably. As a person of rare accomplishments and of a most amiable temper, she was worthy of a better partner. Her vocal power was not considerable and her execution was absolutely nothing as compared with Cuzzoni and others. Still, in her style, there was something telling, arising from the utter absence of any effort at display. As an ac At this period appeared an artiste of similar fame, Faustina Bordoni. She made her first appearance at Venice in 1716, and arrived in London in 1725. Cuzzoni was now in the zenith of her glory. Faustina, by no means her equal, was yet possessed of a very fine voice. Her range, however, was comparatively small, while her powers of expression were not striking. What voice she had she managed with unquestionable discretion, and her execution was distinct if not at times brilliant. Her throat seemed possessed of an immediate power of adaptation to any sort of measure, and transitions cost her no more trouble apparently than they would an instrument of music. The tremolo, which she could produce in unrivalled beauty, she is supposed to have been the first to employ. On the stage she was quite at home in all characters, and ever delighted the audience with her personal charms and most expressive countenance. To compare her with Cuzzoni would be out of the question. Faustina, however, possessed excellences not found in Cuzzoni's singing. In fact, they ought not to be contrasted, being of entirely different styles. But some of their hearers thought proper to institute comparisons between them. The consequence of this was the formation among | in the performance of the most difficult opera. Hasthe opera-goers of a Faustina and a Cuzzoni party.se, who was jealous of her on account of the waning Like as with Margherita de l' Epine and Mrs. Tofts, powers of his wife, Faustina, used to compose songs disturbances took place in the theatres but the which would expose the weak notes as he was contending factions in the Cuzzoni and Faustina envious enough to consider them-of Mingotti's affair belonged rather to aristocratic circles. Cuz- voice. But the malicious scheme of the old fox alzoni was upheld by the Countess of Pembroke and ways proved abortive. Along with unequalled voSir Robert Walpole, the latter a host in himself, calization in every different style, Mingotti combined while Faustina's leading supporters were the Count- a superior knowledge of music and language. She ess of Burlington and Lady Delawarr. The pres-spoke German, French, and Italian with so much ence of royalty could not prevent the often unseemly ease as to render it impossible to decide which was scenes which arose from the fury of partisanship. her mother tongue. She was likewise acquainted We are told in the London Journal of that date that with Spanish and English, and even understood Latthe combatants "proceeded at length to the melo- in. Had she possessed in a higher degree that great dious use of catcalls and other accompaniments." passport to histrionic success, namely, a beautiful A poet of the day avenged the insulted majesty of and voluptuous form, as well as feminine softness, music in the following lines:she would have been as great a celebrity as most of the other singers of the eighteenth century. However, as a vocalist, and especially a musician, she seems to have surpassed them all. Had she sung at the modern opera, she would have elicited, if not admiration, certainly unbounded applause. "Old poets sing that beasts did dance Wise Pembroke's asses brayed." The next singer we shall mention is one which most have heard of, Caterina Gabrielli. Unlike Mingotti, Gabrielli was possessed of rare beauty, and were it not for a very capricious and uncertain temper, it was said by one who was acquainted with her, that she would have dealt out a too widely diffused destruction amongst mankind. As it was, every man in Europe seemed smitten with her charms. She is described by a writer of a book of travels in Sicily and Malta as "the most dangerous Siren of modern times." Her singing was transcendent, so much so as totally to abash all who appeared with her on the stage. On one occasion she exerted herself, which, indeed, she would not always do, often merely humming her songs, i. e. sotto voce, as the Italians say, This state of things being found to injure the interests of the opera, the managers resolved to get rid of one or other of the two ladies. In this way these vocalists would for the future be prevented, at least in London, from coming, as they had once before at an evening party, to actual blows. Lady Pembroke made Cuzzoni swear she would never accept a smaller salary than Faustina. The directors of the opera persisted in offering Cuzzoni a guinea less than her rival, and the result was the departure of the former from our country. Faustina followed a few years subsequently, and met Cuzzoni abroad, where they became quite reconciled. Faustina's lot, after leaving London, was prosperous, and in this respect presents a forcible contrast to the melancholy career of Cuzzoni. Faustina married the celebrated Hasse, who derived important assistance from his wife in managing the Dresden opera. Faustina, after fifteen years of undisputed sovereignty, was at last laid on the shelf in consequence of the appearance of another charming songstress, Regina Valentini. She is more generally known as Mingotti, from having married an old man of that name, manager of the Dresden theatre. He placed his bride under the tuition of the well-known Porpora. This put the crowning stroke to the excellent musical education she had received when inmate of a convent of the Ursulines at Gratz in Silesia. Mingotti rose rapidly into favor, and evoked genuine admiration, even that of the almost superannuated Faustina. Still there was a party raised against her, but she pre-suitor and of suitors she had many-in a promvailed over all opposition. So complete was her triumph that the English minister at the Court of Dresden, Sir Charles Williams, once publicly apologized to her for having ever expressed a doubt respecting her abilities. She left Dresden and visited Naples, Madrid, and London. In the last city she created quite a sensation, and excited, like Cuzzoni, feuds among the nobility. Mingotti was induced, on the retirement, from bankruptcy, of Vaneschi, manager of the London opera, to embark along with Giardini, a great violinplayer, in the undertaking. Like many others they were brought to ruin. Mingotti lost the fortune she had accumulated, and having left England in despair, settled finally at Munich. In her prime she was regarded as the first singer in Europe, and received offers of employment at all the chief Continental theatres. With a superb voice was united a brilliant execution. Afraid of no passage, however intricate, she would come off splendidly victorious and the result was, that the principal male singer abandoned all hope of future fame, and bursting into tears, ran off behind the scenes! Gabrielli's progress through Europe was one uninterrupted ovation. Her musical conquests were as immediate and decisive as the military exploits of the imperial general who wrote to the Roman Senate the despatch, Veni, Vidi, Vici. Gabrielli's success being in defiance of her impetuous, uncertain, and insolent disposition, her vocal powers must have been beyond all praise. Many expedients were adopted to neutralize her caprice. That which was found to answer the purpose best was to place some favored "Five inent position in front of her in the pit. This, at In the midst of these triumphs, Gabrielli was solicited to visit London. She was not at first anx ious to do so; alleging as a reason, that with the English-they were a nation so ferocious- her inveterate habit of caprice would cost her her life. She felt that it was scarcely safe to venture among a people who, if enraged, would, as she said, murder her. There were times when, really sick and unable to sing, she was thought to be wayward. The English, no more than foreigners, ascribing it to indisposition, would inflict summary vengeance for her caprice. Mingotti was accustomed to exclaim, that the people in London could not understand any human being to be seized with a fever, a cold, or a toothache except a singer. Gabrielli, however, overcame her apprehensions, and visited London. The great things that were expected of her, from the fame she had achieved on the Continent, created an exaggerated standard of perfection, and when she failed to reach this, people in their disappointment did not fully award her her due. Gabrielli, besides, was not actually young, though she looked so. Her voice-though exquisitely sweet not being powerful, was not calculated to please those who hitherto had been astonished by the wonderful organs of Cuzzoni and Farinelli. Gabrielli, however, made a great impression in society on account of the polish of her manners and the extent of her information. All this was the achievement of genius, for she was the daughter of a cardinal's cook, and derived from this circumstance the sobriquet of "La Cuochetina," which, as she ascended the ladder of fame, she contrived to expunge from her armorial bearings. | Every one appeared to vie with his neighbor in heaping the most extravagant presents upon him. Those who are familiar with Hogarth's "Rake's Progress" may remember one engraving which is intended to ridicule the Farinelli mania. The matchless painter of the foibles and profligacy of human nature holds up to reprobation the piece of blasphemy of which some lady had been guilty, when, in order to attest her enthusiasm after having heard Carlo Broschi, she cried out, "One God and one Farinelli!" The town, however, grew in a manner tired, not of Farinelli, but of the repetition of his performances. "There is always," says Colley Cibber, in his well-known apology, "such a rage for novelty at the opera that within these two years we have seen even Farinelli sing to an audience of fiveand-thirty-pounds." Having stayed in London about three years, he left England with the intention of returning the year following. and temperate; yet some murmured. His purpose was frustrated by an invitation from the Queen of Spain. He repaired to Madrid, and found that his presence was required to sing for the demented king. His Majesty had hitherto refused to take any part in public affairs, or even attend to his person. It was supposed that he might be roused from his lethargy by music, of which he was particularly fond. The remedy was very successful. Farinelli became a great favorite with the king, who conferred upon him the highest honors. Some say that he became Prime Minister at the Spanish Court, which is perhaps going too far; but at all events he possessed the king's full confidence, had access to the It is sufficient to mention, without dwelling upon private apartments in the palace at all times, and them, the names of Durastanti, Senesino, and Bene- enjoyed the magnificent allowance yearly of £3,000. detti (a mere charlatan). The first two were prin- But though suddenly elevated over the heads of the cipal singers of the company formed by Handel proudest aristocracy in Europe, Farinelli contrived for the Royal Academy. Senesino came after Nic- to make few, if indeed any, enemies. His behavior colini, and was a good actor, with a sweet and pow-under prosperity must therefore have been judicious erful contralto voice. But a supereminent singer, and perhaps the greatest performer of his own or any other age, remains yet to be noticed, the famous Farinelli. This title, said to have been received from the circumstance of his father having been a flour-merchant, in point of fact, arose from his becoming a protégé of the Farina family. Carlo Broschi, his proper name, was born at Andria, in the Neapolitan district, in 1705. He, like so many able singers of the time, was a pupil of Porpora's. This distinguished preceptor, observing Farinelli's extraordinary vocal powers, paid him unusual attention; nor did the disciple disappoint his careful training. So early as seventeen years of age he evinced those unrivalled qualities which afterwards raised him to the rank of the first singer in Europe. His success commenced at Rome, when he sung the celebrated song with an obligato accompaniment for the trumpet. In sustaining power of voice he far eclipsed the performer on the trumpet. After visiting different cities with undiminished popularity, more especially Vienna, he came to London about 1734, and was engaged by his old master, Porpora, to perform at Lincoln's Inn Fields, in opposition to the opera under Handel. It is a curious fact in relation to Handel, when he went abroad to embody a staff of singers, that he chose Senesino in preference to Farinelli. The folly of the selection was quickly apparent : Farinelli was able to command an enormous salary, and became quite the rage of London. The fashionable world, in its efforts at homage, really seemed to have gone mad. It was regarded as an essential qualification in society to have heard Farinelli sing. Once he was going into the king's room, and an old officer of the guard grumbled out, "Honors can be heaped on such scoundrels as this, while a poor soldier, thirty years in the army, remains neglected." Farinelli told the king that he had passed over a meritorious servant, and procured a regiment for the old officer. Others again were eager to express their admiration. Farinelli once ordered a splendid suit of clothes of very costly material. The tailor refused all payment, and asked in return what he said was fit only for monarchs, namely, a song from Farinelli. The great artiste, highly gratified, sang his best for the enraptured tradesman, and put double the amount of his bill into the tailor's hand. After the death of Philip V., Farinelli maintained his post at the Spanish Court under Ferdinand VI. This monarch was induced to establish an opera, which under the directorship of Farinelli soon attained a flourishing condition. Charles III., however, Ferdinand's successor, dispensed with Farinelli's services, and ordered him to quit Spain. This monarch had a regular dislike for music, and hushed its tones within the precincts of the palace. In consideration of Farinelli's lengthened engagement-twenty-four years- he was permitted to retain his pension. The king, however, was determined to make the singer always sensible of his dependence by forbidding him to reside in any country except Italy, or in any of its towns except Bologna. The remainder of Farinelli's days were passed in retirement. He amused himself with the charms of song; and when he had ceased to toy with these, he |