ances, I often find myself echoing the words of poor Christopher Sly: ";'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady; would 'twere done!" An old Italian writer, himself both a singer and a teacher, most truly says: "E vaglia 'l vero, dove parla la passione i trilli e i passaggi devon tacere"—leaving the soul to be moved solely by the beauty of expression. It was this quality of sympathetic expression that made the singing of Tom Moore, who had no "voice" in the technical sense, more moving than that of renowned artists. In an altogether different line, Mr. George Grossmith contrives by the exquisite clearness of his modulation to add considerably to the gayety of nations with a very limited stock of notes.
One of the most remarkable things relating to song at the present day is the scarcity of really fine voices. It will not, I suppose, be seriously argued that the human voice is degenerating, and never were the inducements to cultivate it more abundant or more powerful. Yet, if we are to believe many competent authorities, never were first-rate voices so rare as at the present time. The complaint is not altogether new, and is, in part at least, nothing more than the inevitable moan of the laudator temporis acti over the decadence of things in general. Rossini at the zenith of his fame complained that there were so few good voices, and quite at the beginning of the last century we find Tosi speaking of his own period as one of decay. Mancini also (1774) says that vocal art had then fallen very low, a circumstance which he attributes to singers "having forgotten the old systems and the sound practice of the ancient schools." Still, modern writers on singing are agreed that there is a dearth of really beautiful voices at the present time, and, as this is one of the very few points on which these contentious persons are agreed, there can be little doubt of the truth of the fact to which they bear witness. Good tenors are especially rare, even among Italians, the chosen people of song. There are no tenors now who can be compared with Mario or Rubini; indeed, one gathers from Mr. Sims Reeves's reminiscences, published not long ago, that the world is at present blest with only one really first-rate tenor. Mr. Reeves leaves his readers in no doubt as to the identity of this Triton among contemporaneous minnows of song. We have no basso that can stand beside Lablache. Except Madame Patti, whose glorious voice is now too seldom heard, and Madame Christine Nilsson, who, to the regret of all lovers of song, has quitted the lyric stage, Madame Albani and Madame Sembrich are almost the sole inheritors of the renown of the great prime donne of old. It is not only in compass and quality that our latter-day voices are inferior to those of preceding generations, but in endurance. Catalani's magnificent voice remained unimpaired up to extreme old age, and Farinelli's
