the singers of the world. Every passage was finished to perfection; and,
though there were other singers not inferior to her in the use of the
shake or the trill, yet in the attack of intervals distant from each
other, in the climbing up a series of groups of notes, ascending to the
highest in the scale, there was no singer of her own time or since who
could compete with her. Mr. Chorley tells us how convincingly these rare
and remarkable merits impressed themselves on him, "when, after a few
years' absence from our stage, Mme. Persiani reappeared in London, how,
in comparison with her, her younger successors sounded like so many
immature scholars of the second class." On her gala nights the spirit
and splendor of her execution were daring, triumphant, and irresistible,
if we can trust those who heard her in her days of greatness.
Moschcles, in his diary, speaks of the incredible difficulties which
she overcame, and compares her performance with that of a violinist,
while Mendelssohn, who did not love Italian music or the Italian
vocalization, said: "Well, I do like Mme. Persiani dearly. She is such
a thorough artist, and she sings so earnestly, and there is such a
pleasant _bitter_ tone in her voice."

Donizetti met Mme. Persiani again in Vienna in 1842, and composed for
her his charming opera, "Linda di Chamouni," which, with the exception
of the "Favorita" and "Lucia," is generally admitted to be his best.
In this opera our singer made an impression nearly equal to that in
"Lucia," and it remained afterward a great favorite with her, and one in
which she was highly esteemed by the European public.

The transformation of Covent Garden Theatre into a spacious and noble
opera-house in 1847, and the secession of the principal artists from Her
Majesty's Theatre, were the principal themes of musical gossip in the
English capital at that time. The artists who went over to the Royal