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Updated: May 7, 2025
I laid down my book, and leaned forward to listen. The recitative over, then followed that delicious 'hymn of youth and love, as Scudo calls it, 'Tu che accendi' followed by the 'Di tanti palpiti. Can you imagine the sensations produced by hearing for the first time such a passage?
There was a nameless, expectant stir through the assembly, as there is in the pit of the opera when some great singer advances to the lamps, and begins, "Di tanti palpiti." Time flies. Look at the Dutch clock over the door. Half-an-hour. John Burley begins to warm. A yet quicker light begins to break from his Eye; his voice has a mellow luscious roll in it.
For the tiniest folk-song often persists in the hearts and minds of the people, often stirs the pulse of a musician, pursuing its tuneful way through two centuries, while a mighty thundering symphony of the same period may lie dead and rotting, food for the Niptus Hololencus and the Blatta Germanica. We still sing The Old Folks At Home and Le Cycle du Vin but we have laid aside Di Tanti Palpiti.
Pasta: her pure taste enabled her to add grace to the original composition by elegant and irreproachable ornaments. 'Di tanti palpiti' had been first presented to the Parisians by Mme. Fodor, who covered it with rich and brilliant embroidery, and gave it what an English critic, Lord Mount Edgcumbe, afterward termed its country-dance-like character. Mine.
Together she and Gennaro sang the Dunque il mio bene tu mia sarai, the last duet of Zingarelli's "Romeo e Giulietta," one of the most pathetic pages of modern music. The passage Di tanti palpiti expresses love in all its grandeur. Calyste, sitting in the same arm-chair in which Felicite had told him the history of the marquise, listened in rapt devotion.
Again, an old clock in Spanish mahogany, with a rudely painted glass door, had been left on the wall. Mary Jannan, at the piano, wove a delicate succession of arpeggios. She sang, in a small and graceful voice, a cavatina, Tanti Palpiti. Then, "Ah, que les amours ... de beaux heurs." Jasper Penny listened with an unconscious, approving pretence of understanding.
There was a nameless, expectant stir through the assembly, as there is in the pit of the opera when some great singer advances to the lamps, and begins, "Di tanti palpiti." Time flies. Look at the Dutch clock over the door. Half-an-hour. John Burley begins to warm. A yet quicker light begins to break from his Eye; his voice has a mellow luscious roll in it.
To this opera belongs the charming "Di tanti palpiti," written under the following circumstances: Mme. Melanotte, the prima donna, took the whim during the final rehearsal that she would not sing the opening air, but must have another. Rossini went home in sore disgust, for the whole opera was likely to be put off by this caprice.
A ci-devant stockbroker cut a Duke dead at his club the day after its publication; and his daughter yawned while his Grace's eldest son, the Marquess, made her an offer as she was singing 'Di tanti palpiti. The aristocrats got a little frightened, and when an eminent hop-merchant and his lady had asked a dozen Countesses to dinner, and forgot to be at home to receive them, the old class left off quizzing.
The gambler mechanically gave up the tally, and went downstairs whistling Di tanti Palpiti so feebly, that he himself scarcely heard the delicious notes. He found himself immediately under the arcades of the Palais-Royal, reached the Rue Saint Honore, took the direction of the Tuileries, and crossed the gardens with an undecided step.
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