A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Pacchierotti, Gasparo
PACCHIEROTTI, Gasparo, perhaps the greatest singer of the second half of the 18th century, was born in 1744 at Fabriano, near Ancona. His ancestors came from Siena, where one of them, Jacopo dal Pecchia, called Pacchierotto, studied the works of Perugino and Raffaelle to such good effect that his own pictures have been sometimes taken by connoisseurs to be by the hand of the latter great master.[1] Driven from Siena by political troubles, the family of Pacchierotto in 1575 took refuge in Pianca-stagnaio; from whence a branch settled in Fabriano.
About 1757 Gasparo Pacchierotti was admitted into the choir of S. Mark's at Venice, where the great Bertoni was his master, according to the memoir written by the singer's adopted son, Giuseppe Cecchini Pacchierotti.[2] This, however, is contradicted by Fétis, who states that it was in the choir of the cathedral at Forli that the young singer received his first instruction, and that it was impossible that he could have sung under Bertoni, since boys were never employed at S. Mark's, where Bertoni did not become Maestro di Cappella till 1785, having been up to that date (from 1752) only organist. However this may be, it is certain that the young Pacchierotti, having been prepared for the career of a sopranist, studied long and carefully before he began, at the age of sixteen, to sing secondary parts at Venice, Vienna, and Milan.
Endowed with a vivid imagination, uncommon intelligence, and profound sensibility, but, on the other hand, with a tall and lean figure, and with a voice which, though strong in the lowest register and rising easily to the high C, was often uncertain and nasal,—Pacchierotti required much determination and strength of character to overcome the defects, and take advantage of the qualities, with which he found himself provided by nature. This he accomplished only by painful and laborious study, retiring to a garret in Venice, where he practised the most difficult exercises which the masters of those days prescribed as necessary to the education of the voice; and success at last crowned his endeavours.
Milan was the last place in which he sang a secondary role. Returning to Venice in 1769, he took the place of Guarducci, primo musico at the S. Benedetto, then the chief theatre in that city. Successful here, he was immediately invited by the Impresario of the Opera at Palermo for the season of 1771. H. E. the Procuratore Iron, his good and generous patron, furnished Pacchierotti with recommendations, and the latter set out, taking Naples in his way. Arrived there, he was informed that the celebrated prima donna, De Amicis, had protested against the proposition that she should sing with him, 'a player of second parts.' The Venetian minister, to whom he was recommended, comforted him in this juncture, but only with the humiliating permission, accorded to him, to show his powers by singing two pieces, with full orchestra, at the San Carlo, before Lacillo, Piccinni, and Caffarelli, as judges. Here he was brilliantly successful, and was immediately offered his choice between the theatres of Palermo and Naples. He proudly chose the former, where he met the great De Amicis, and had to submit to another ordeal in a duet with her at the first general rehearsal of 'Didone.' She had refused to try over the duet with him previously, and treated him with studied coldness and contempt; but Pacchierotti overcame this and the prejudice of the audience by his noble, impassioned, and skilful singing. Even De Amicis herself was surprised into sincere and kindly admiration.
This set the seal on Pacchierotti's reputation, which never faded for 25 years, during which he delighted the cognoscenti of Europe. He remained for a time in Italy, singing at Parma, Milan, Florence, and Forli, and at Venice in 1777. After this, he sang at Milan in the carnival of 1778, then at Genoa, Lucca, and Turin; but in the autumn of that year he came to London with Bertoni, and made his first appearance here with Bernasconi in the pasticcio 'Demofoonte.' Great expectations had been formed of him, not only from his continental reputation, but from the account given by Captain Brydone in his Travels, and from some airs sung 'in his manner' by Piozzi, 'in a style that excited great ideas of his pathetic powers.' These expectations were not disappointed; and Dr. Burney's warm but intelligent praise of his beautful voice, his perfect command of it, the taste and boldness with which he invented new ornaments, the truth and originality of his expression, and his other musicianly qualities, must be read by those who would form an idea of the truly great singer that Pacchierotti was. Though intimately connected with his friend Bertoni, he sang with no less ardour and energy the music of Sacchini, and other rival composers: and, indeed, he seems to have had a most amiable character, never withholding his commendation of another artist, when due, though of his own performance he was always the most severe critic.
Lord Mount-Edgcumbe also speaks in the highest terms of the talent of Pacchierotti, whom he calls 'decidedly the most perfect singer it ever fell to his lot to hear.'
In a letter[3] to the Rev. W. Mason, dated Lucca, Sept. 15, 1780, Pacchierotti shows, in very good English, the friendly terms on which he stood with literary men of this country, and his familiarity with some, at least, of our literature.
'My search,' he writes, 'after a translation of Mr. Gray's poems has been as yet fruitless; however, I still entertain hopes of succeeding at Venice, where learning is perhaps more cultivated than in other parts of Italy. Your Divine Dramas I have not been able to discover in Toscany: at Venice, probably, I may be more fortunate. But should I look in vain, still permit me to trouble you with my letters, and flatter myself with the hopes of hearing sometimes that you are well, and that you have not forgotten me. My native country has produced its usual effect, and restored me to voice and sentiment, both of which were cruelly damped in England. Could I but maintain these acquisitions upon my return, I should be more worthy the attention of the Publick, and of the great Ideas you are pleased to intertain of the profession.'
The account that Pacchierotti gives here, with so much modesty, of the effect of our climate upon him, is confirmed by Dr. Burney, who relates that 'though he was never obliged by indisposition to be absent from the stage, when his duty called him thither, above once or twice during four years' residence among us, yet his voice was sometimes affected by slight colds.'
After a second visit to London Pacchierotti [App. p.737 "on his second visit to London he was engaged by Sheridan for the season (1782–3) at a salary of £1150, with a benefit"] again returned to Italy. He sang at the Tuileries in Paris on his way back again to England from Venice, where Bertoni had written fresh operas for him. Galuppi had died there in 1785 [App. p.737 "1784"], and at his funeral Pacchierotti took part in a Requiem. 'I sang very devoutly indeed,' he wrote to Burney, 'to obtain a quiet to his soul.' He used on another occasion, a familiar but picturesque expression, when discussing Pergolesi's setting of 'Se Cerca se dice," saying that 'he had hit the right nail on the head.' Pacchierotti arrived here, on his third visit, in 1790, and sang at the Pantheon, and at the Festival in Westminster Abbey in 1791. At the opening of the Fenice at Venice in 1792, he took his leave of the stage, after which he settled in Padua. In 1796, however, he was compelled to appear once more to sing before General Buonaparte, who was passing through the city, though the great artist had then been living four years in retirement. He sang, but most unwillingly.
At Padua he enjoyed the society and the esteem of all the literati of the city, among whom he spent the rest of his life in a peaceful and happy manner, only interrupted by one unfortunate incident. Having imprudently lamented 'le splendide miserie della vittoria,' in a letter to Catalani, which he had entrusted to Dragonetti, who was on the point of escaping from Italy, both fugitive and letter were intercepted; and the unlucky Pacchierotti was thrown into prison, where he was detained for a month. Not long before his death he was visited by Rossini, to whom he deplored the depraved modern taste in singing, and the growth of a noisy and rococo style, for which, doubtless, the old singer thought the Pesarese in a great degree to blame: 'Give me another Pacchierotti,' the latter replied, 'and I shall know how to write for him!'
During his remaining years, Pacchierotti did not cease his daily practice and enjoyment of singing, in private; but mainly devoted himself to the Psalms of Marcello, 'from which,' he said, 'he had learnt the little that he knew.' From the midst of this quiet life he departed Oct. 28, 1821.[4] Only a few moments before his death he had repeated, as usual with him, some of Metastasio's sacred verses, in the most pathetic tones; and he died praying 'to be admitted to one of the humblest choirs of heaven.'