Mattia Battistini is unique among baritones. Battistini was born in 1856 and sang in the tradition of Tamburini, Ronconi, and Cotogni. Due to an exceedingly long career the zenith of which coincided with the invention of the gramophone, we can enjoy a rare glimpse into a bygone era of baritone-singing, especially since Battistini was still singing beautifully well into his sixties.
“He…makes the audience appreciate beauties in the music that nobody has ever properly brought out before.” (Anonymous review of Ernani, 1885, quoted by Jacques Chuilon.)
“The corpse was laid out in a Hall of Medals, the walls hung with some of the wreaths and ribbons awarded to Mattia Battistini by audiences all over the world, as tributes to his art. The room had been transformed into a mortuary chapel, adorned with many plants and flowers. Four enormous wax candles burned around the body, which had been dressed in the habit of a Franciscan monk, according to the desire of the departed, who had been a fervent member of the third order of Franciscans. The numerous Italian and foreign medals were arranged on one side of the chapel. The body is watched over by Spanish nuns, to whose order Mattia Battistini has entrusted the care of the noble chapel in which he will lie beside his beloved wife, the Baroness Dolores. All the local authorities and many citizens have come to pay their respects to the departed. The Bishop of Rieti, Monsignor Rinaldi, and other priests have said masses for the departed in the presence of the corpse. Telegrams of condolence have arrived from all over the world. We learn that the great man has left one hundred thousand lire to our local hospital and all his priceless artistic treasures have been donated to the Civic Museum of Rieti.” (Undated newspaper clipping, Rome, 1928) [This, and all other quotations found in this essay, whether Chuilon or other foreign language sources, have been translated by Michael Aspinall.]
This description of the lying-in-state of Battistini on the eve of his funeral gives an idea of the exalted status of this opera-singer in the eyes of his contemporaries: a royal status, in fact—“the King of Baritones and the Baritone of Kings”.
lmegiani reports that Battistini used to meet Verdi frequently at the spa of Montecatini, and the composer told the baritone: “I have often come, mingling with the crowd, to hear you sing, and I have always applauded you warmly!”
From 1892 onwards, Battistini established himself as an immense favorite with audiences at Russia's two imperial theatres in Saint Petersburg and Moscow: the Mariinsky and the Bolshoi respectively. He returned to Russia regularly, appearing there for 23 seasons in total, and touring extensively elsewhere in eastern Europe, using Warsaw as his stepping-stone. He would journey to Warsaw, Saint Petersburg, Moscow, and Odessa like a prince, traveling in his private rail coach with a retinue of servants and innumerable trunks containing a vast stage wardrobe renowned for its elegance and lavishness. The composer Jules Massenet was prepared to adjust the role of Werther for the baritone range when Battistini elected to sing it in Saint Petersburg in 1902, such was the singer's prestige.
The industrious Battistini also appeared with some regularity in Milan, Lisbon, Barcelona, Madrid, Berlin, Vienna, Prague, Budapest, and Paris (where he sang for the first time in 1916[5]). But his many social connections in Russia, and the favor that he enjoyed with the imperial family and the nobility, ensured that Russia—more than perhaps even Italy—became his artistic home before the outbreak of the First World War, in 1914. The war led to the destruction, by the Bolsheviks in 1917, of the Tsarist regime and the aristocratic society that had enriched touring Italian opera stars like Battistini and his tenor compatriots Francesco Tamagno, Francesco Marconi, and Angelo Masini. This history-shaping political development, coupled with Battistini's refusal to sing in the Americas, meant that his career after the war's conclusion in 1918 was confined to Western Europe.
In January 1900, Battistini and a young Russian admirer, Varvara Grigorievna Kovalensky (1878–1946), had a son Petya (1900–1972). For around ten years, Battistini and Varvara corresponded and worked out details of Petya's upbringing, eventually enrolling him at the Collegio Nazareno under the name Pietro Kovalensky. Though mother and father never married (Battistini was already married and a devout Catholic) and broke off contact, they did reconcile after Varvara's husband Vladimir Mrosovsky died. By that point, Petya (now known as Peter Mrosovsky) had finished school in England and graduated from Cambridge.[6] There he had been friends with the likes of Nabokov, to whom he introduced James Joyce's Ulysses with a first edition copy smuggled from Paris. [7]
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