Already a subscriber? Log in
Her father, Dr Charles Burney, was at the heart of this hectic musical life, and his children had free access to the opera houses, attending rehearsals as well as hearing many of the most famous singers at home, performing in the cosy intimacy of his weekly salons. It was here in the autumn of 1779 that Susanna met Gasparo Pacchierotti, a castrato who had succeeded Farinelli as the most sought-after of Italian singers.
Pacchierotti, then aged 39, was unprepossessing to look at — tall, thin, ungainly, with a sallow complexion — but he was, according to Dr Burney, the greatest singer of his age; a man who could sing like a soprano as well as like a tenor, and whose lungs were so well-developed that he could hold a note in perfect pitch for over a minute. Unusually, he was also an actor of great sensitivity and grace. Susanna was smitten at once:
Her book is so short that it reads more like an essay, a brief note on Susanna’s life. She tantalises us with extensive quotation from Susanna’s description of a party in July 1780 at which Pacchierotti is persuaded to sing, but then rather abruptly tells us that this is the last mention of him in Susanna’s journal. Her final, brief chapter glosses over the rest of Susanna’s life.
And yet there is much more to Susanna’s life than her response, musical or otherwise, to Pacchierotti. The woman we come to know through her intimate journals is almost as interesting a witness to the late 18th century as her elder sister. She was herself a talented singer but never performed in public; she was admired by many, including the Count Narbonne, lover of Madame de Sta
Also in Book Reviews
Also by Kate Chisholm
Latest
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in