A matter of "keen interest" it must, indeed, be to every prima-donna of to-day—this amazing, magic trumpet that can record the subtle individual quality of a singer's voice, and give it gloriously forth again when desired. By means of this weird invention, the present vintage of fine voices can be bottled up like rare wine, and poured out in future years. More wonderful still: like the "widow's cruse," this trumpet never grows empty; from its uptilted mouth the flow of song will stream on continuously, if so desired and directed. It is enough to make poor Jenny Lind and other long-silent singers turn restlessly in their graves: they died too soon to profit by the powers of this recording trumpet,—which surely has no rival save the one that Gabriel blows.
Some further random questions about the experiences of a prima-donna elicited the following item. Mme. Melba smiled as she told it:
"Yes, I have some queer things said to me. Just recently a young girl of eighteen, who wished me to hear her sing, assured me that there were only two fine voices in the world to-day—hers and mine!
"But I must tell you," she added brightly, "the most graceful compliment ever paid me. It was by an Irish woman, who, in commenting on the lack of song in the native birds of Australia, pointed out that they had treasured up all their melody through the ages and then had given it to me."
Some one has said, "The ease of Melba's singing is positively audacious!" She certainly makes light of the most time-honored difficulties. She will start a high note without any preparation, with apparently no breath and no change of the lips. Faint at first as the "fabric of a dream," it is followed by the gradual grandeur of a glorious tone, straight and true as a beam of light, until finally it attains the full zenith of a crescendo.
In a bewildering variety of ways writers have attempted to describe the wonder of her voice.
"It seems to develop in the listener a new sense; he feels that each tone always has been and always will be. She literally lays them out on the air."
"Her tone-production is as much a gift as the voice itself."
After all, "she is Melba, the incomparable, whose beauty of voice is only equaled by the perfection of her art."
"In future years the present time will be referred to, musically, as 'in the days of Melba.'"