JENNY LIND AND ENGLAND.
[To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.] Sin,—I have been so overwhelmed by the hundreds of replies to my inquiry regarding the songs of Jenny Lind that, much to my regret, I find it quite impossible to acknowledge each one personally. I warmly appreciate this quick response from the admirers of the great singer. In my recent letter to you I spoke of the regret that everyone feels because the Swedish Nightingale could not, as we moderns do, preserve her songs upon a gramophone record for all time. It is true there is no record of Jenny Lind's voice—no black disc to perpetuate it for coming generations. But the journals of her time, the few living people who have heard her, and those to whom the memory has been handed down, all tell the same story—it was wonderful. More than half a hundred years have gore, yet we find the echo of her voice in the hearts of those whom she once enthralled. I send my thanks to all readers of the Spectator for the recollections—and many songs graciously sent me. Later, duly bound and inscribed, these numbers are to form part of a permanent Jenny Lind Collection—the nucleus of which is one of the finest private collections in the United States, and will have a fitting home in the city of New York, where everyone may visit it.—I am, Sir, &c., Ritz Hotel, Piccadilly, London, W.1.
FREDA HEMPEL.
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