a regard to the voice, and to the employment of its most agreeable
tones, puts me into a comfortable mood, and gives me a feeling of
success; yours, on the contrary, into one of dissatisfaction and
anticipation of failure. Of what importance is the musical value of a
composition, if it can only be sung with doubtful success, and if the
voice is obliged to struggle with it, instead of having it under
control? You attach less importance to the free, agreeable exercise of
the voice than does the unanimous public. I do not wish to excite
compassion, but to give pleasure by a beautifully developed style of
singing. You pay some attention to adaptability to the piano or the
violin: why are you usually regardless of fitness for the voice?

Critics have often asked, Why does Jenny Lind sing so coolly? why does
she not sing grand, passionate parts? why does she not select for her
performances some of the later German or even Italian operas? why does
she always sing Amina, Lucia, Norma, Susanna, &c.? In reply to these and
similar questions, I will ask, Why does she wish always to remain Jenny
Lind? why does she endeavor to preserve her voice as long as possible?
why does she select operas in which she may use her pure, artistic,
refined mode of singing, which permits no mannerism, no hypocritical
sentiment, and which possesses an ideal beauty? why does she choose
operas in which she can give the most perfect possible image of her own
personality? why operas in which she may allow the marvellous union of
her powers of song to shine conspicuously, without doing violence to her
voice and forcing its tones, or casting doubt upon her lofty, noble, and
beautiful art? why does she first regard the singing, and only
afterwards the music, or both united? This is the answer to the same
questions which are likewise asked about Henrietta Sontag and all great
singers. Even the passionate Schröder-Devrient seldom made an exception
to this rule, although she was not independent of the theatres.