A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Sontag, Henriette
SONTAG, Henriette, Countess Rossi, was born at Coblentz, May 13, 1805 [App. p.795 "Jan. 3, 1806"]. Her father was a good comedian, her mother an actress of no ordinary merit, to whom the daughter, when at the height of fame, continued to turn for instruction. At six, Henriette made her first public appearance, at the Darmstadt theatre, as Salome, in Kauer's 'Donauweibchen.' Three years later her mother, then a widow, settled at Prague, where Weber was conductor at the theatre. Here Henriette acted in juvenile parts, and in 1815 was admitted, though under the prescribed age, as a pupil to the Conservatoire of the city. She studied singing under Bayer and Frau Czegka, and when only 15 was suddenly called upon to replace the prima donna at the opera in the part of the Princess in Boieldieu's 'Jean de Paris.' Her precocity, appearance, and vocal gifts, at once created a great impression, but shortly afterwards her mother removed with her to Vienna, where the next few years were spent, Henriette Sontag singing both in Italian and German opera, and deriving, according to her own statement, incalculable benefit from the counsels and example of Mme. Mainville Fodor. Here Weber, in 1823, after hearing her in the 'Donna del Lago,' went next day to offer her the title-rôle in his 'Euryanthe,' whose production, Oct. 25, was a triumph for Mlle. Sontag. Beethoven could not hear her, but 'How did little Sontag sing?' was his first question to those who had been at the performance. When, in 1824, his 9th Symphony and Mass in D were produced, it was she who sustained the difficult and ungrateful soprano part. She was next engaged at Leipzig, and then for Berlin, making her first appearance at the Königstadt theatre, August 3, 1825, as Isabella in the 'Italiana in Algieri.'
Henceforward her career was one unbroken triumph. She made her début in Paris in June 1826, as Rosina in the 'Barbiere,' and became a favourite at once. Her introduction of Rode's air and variations created a furore. She sang also in the 'Donna del Lago' and 'Italiana in Algieri,' and returned to Germany in July, with heightened prestige. Everywhere her beauty, charming voice, and exquisite vocalisation combined to excite an admiration amounting to frenzy. At Göttingen her post-chaise was thrown into the river by the ardent crowd, no mortal being counted worthy to make use of it after her. Even Ludwig Börne, after commenting humorously on the extravagance of the public, confesses to have yielded in his turn to the prevailing infatuation. Her figure was slender and mignonne, her hair between auburn and blonde, her eyes large, and her features delicate. Her voice, a soprano of clear and pleasing quality, was specially good in the upper register, reaching the E in alt with facility, and in perfection of execution she seems to have been unsurpassed by any singer of her time. But she was deficient in dramatic power, and only appeared to the highest advantage in works of a light and placid style. On her return to Paris, in January 1828, she essayed parts of a different order, such as Donna Anna and Semiramide, with success, but in passion and emotion never rose to the distinction she attained as a songstress.
In England she appeared first on April 19, 1828, at the King's Theatre, as Rosina, and met with a most flattering reception, sharing with Malibran the honours of that and the succeeding season. The story of the coolness existing between the two, and of how, after singing together the duet from 'Semiramide' at a concert, mutual admiration transformed their estrangement into warm friendship, is well known. Mlle. Sontag appeared here in other rôles, and her artistic fame was enhanced by her popularity in society.
At Berlin, Mlle. Sontag had formed the acquaintance of Count Rossi, then in the diplomatic service of Sardinia. An attachment sprang up between them and was followed by a secret marriage. It was feared that the young diplomate's future might be compromised were he to acknowledge an artiste of low birth as his wife. But after a time Count Rossi's efforts to procure Court sanction to his union were successful—the King of Prussia bestowed a patent of nobility on the lady, who henceforth appeared in documents as née de Launstein, and she definitely bade farewell to artistic life. As Countess Rossi she accompanied her husband to the Hague, where he was representative of the Sardinian Court. Occasionally she would sing for public charities, in concerts or oratorio—a style in which she is said to have been unrivalled; still, for nearly half her lifetime she remained lost to the musical public, following the career of her husband at the courts of Holland, Germany, and Russia. As to her domestic felicity and the character of her husband, we quote the positive testimony of her brother, Carl Sontag, 'Rossi made my sister happy, in the truest sense of the word. Up to the day of her death they loved each other as on their wedding-day!' But the disorders of 1847–48 had impaired their fortunes, and she was tempted to return to the opera. It was notified to Rossi that he might retain his ambassador's post, if he would formally separate from his wife—on the tacit understanding that so soon as her operatic career was concluded she should be allowed to return to him. This he however at once refused, and resigned his post, though remaining on a friendly footing with the Court. Lumley, then manager of Her Majesty's Theatre, having offered the Countess Rossi £6000 for six months, it was accepted, and in July 1849 her reappearance in London as 'Linda' was announced. The curiosity excited was extreme. Her voice and charms were unimpaired, and the unanimous opinion seems to have been that, in the words of Adolph Adam, she now united to youth and freshness the qualities of a finished artist. Her former deficiencies were in some measure compensated for by study and less girlish appearance. As Amina, though Jenny Land was fresh in the public memory, she was rapturously received, as also in Desdemona, and Susanna in the 'Nozze,' one of her favourite parts, and pronounced by a German critic the most perfect thing he had seen on any stage. Her extraordinary preservation of her powers was partly due no doubt to long exemption from the wear and tear of incessant public singing, but Sontag was always extremely careful of her voice, discarding any rôle that did not lie well within her register. Thus, in an early contract at Berlin, she expressly stipulates that she shall not be bound to sing in the operas of Spontini!
After a tour in the English provinces in the winter of 1849, she wen to Paris, where a successful series of concerts, also under Lumley's management, preceded in the spring of 1850 her reappearance at Her Majesty's to win fresh laurels as Norina in 'Don Pasquale,' Elvira in the 'Puritani,' and Miranda in Halévy's new opera 'La Tempesta.' As Zerlina and the 'Figlia del Reggimento,' she appeared for the first time, and with pre-eminent success. In the autumn of 1850 she sang in Italian opera at Paris, Lumley again being director of the company. During this season Alary's 'Tre Nozze' was produced, and the polka-duet between Sontag and Lablache never failed to send the public into ecstasies. It was brought out in London in 1851, with similar results. During this season, Mme. Sontag's last in London, she sang in a round of her favourite parts, and in the production of 'L'Enfant Prodigue.'
In Germany, wherever she went she carried all before her. At a concert at Munich she was expressly requested to stay to hear the last piece. It proved to be a 'Huldigungs Chor'—verses composed expressly in her honour by the Crown Prince, and set to music by Lachner.
In 1852 Mme. Sontag received offers from the United States, which tempted her thither with her husband in the autumn. The results were brilliant. Her voice was strengthened by the climate, and at this time she could sing in 'Lucrezia Borgia' and the 'Figlia del Reggimento' on a single evening without over-fatigue! Her last appearance was made in 'Lucrezia' at Mexico, in 1854. She was attacked by cholera, and on June 17 a brief illness cut short a life of unchequered prosperity.
Berlioz, remarking on the fact that Sontag had less to suffer than other equally famous singers from hostile criticism and party spirit, ascribes it to her having united so many favourite qualities—sweetness unsurpassed, fabulous agility, perfect intonation, and expression. In this last her scope was limited, and warranted Catalani's mot, 'Elle est la première dans son genre, mais son genre n'est pas le premier.' Her success in certain pathetic rôles must be attributed to the charm of her singing. She used to say, 'A Donna Anna over her father's corpse, a Pamina in the air "Ach ich fühl's," who cannot move the public to tears, have no idea of Mozart.' By her delivery of the short phrase alone, 'Tamino halt! ich muss ihn sehn,' sung by Pamina behind the scenes, she could rouse the house to the stormiest applause. She was a thorough and conscientious artist, and her style won her the special favour of eminent musicians. Mendelssohn entertained the highest admiration for her, and she obtained a like tribute of praise from connoisseurs in every country. It fell to her lot to achieve an international popularity and fame never before accorded to a German singer.