a second effort, and brought all the force of
his lungs into play. The note pealed out with tremendous power, but the
victorious tenor felt that some of the voice-making mechanism had given
way. He sang as usual through the opera, but discovered on examination
afterward that the clavicle was fractured. Rubini had so distended his
lungs that they had broken one of their natural barriers. Rubini's voice
was an organ of prodigious range by nature, to which his own skill had
added several highly effective notes. His chest range, it is asserted by
Fetis, covered two octaves from C to C, which was carried up to F in the
_voce di testa_. With such consummate skill was the transition to the
falsetto managed that the most delicate and alert ear could not detect
the change in the vocal method. The secret of this is believed to have
begun and died with Rubini. Perhaps, indeed, it was incommunicable, the
result of some peculiarity of vocal machinery.

From what has been said of Rubini's lack of dramatic talent, it may be
rightfully inferred, as was the fact, that he had but little power in
musical declamation. Rubini was always remembered by his songs, and
though the extravagance of embroidery, the roulades and cadenzas with
which he ornamented them, oftentimes raised a question as to his taste,
the exquisite pathos and simplicity with which he could sing when he
elected were incomparable. This artist was often tempted by his own
transcendant powers of execution to do things which true criticism
would condemn, but the ease with which he overcame the greatest vocal
difficulties excused for his admirers the superabundance of these
displays. In addition to the great finish of his art, his geniality
of expression was not to be resisted. He so thoroughly and intensely
enjoyed his own singing that he communicated this persuasion to his
audiences. Rubini would merely walk through a large portion of an opera
with indifference, but, when his chosen moment arrived, there were such
passion, fervor, and putting forth of consummate vocal art and emotion
that his hearers hung breathless on the notes of his voice. As the
singer of a song in opera, no one, according to his contemporaries, ever
equaled him. According to Chorley, his "songs did not so much create a
success for him as an ecstasy of delight in those that heard him. The
mixture of musical finish with excitement which they displayed has never
been equaled within such limits or on such c