The singing was beautiful. Six of the most cultivated glee singers of
London sang, among other things, "Spring's delights are now
returning," and "Where the bee sucks there lurk I." The duchess said,"
These glees are peculiarly English." It was indeed delightful to hear
Shakspeare's aerial words made vocal within the walls of this fairy
palace. The duchess has a strong nationality; and nationality, always
interesting, never appears in so captivating a form as when it
expresses itself through a beautiful and cultivated woman. One likes
to see a person identifying one's self with a country, and she
embraces England, with its history, its strength, its splendor, its
moral power, with an evident pride and affection which I love to see.
Miss Greenfield's turn for singing now came, and there was profound
attention. Her voice, with its keen, searching fire, its penetrating
vibrant quality, its _"timbre"_ as the French have it, cut its
way like a Damascus blade to the heart. It was the more touching from
occasional rusticities and artistic defects, which showed that she had
received no culture from art.
She sang the ballad, "Old folks at home," giving one verse in the
soprano, and another in the tenor voice.
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