A Voice That Is Still

Press, Volume C, Issue 29518, 20 May 1961, Page 3

A Voice That Is Still

!A Fourth Leader in *‘The Times”}

What songs the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling questions, are not beyond all conjecture. But what was the pitch of the siren voices, what register they commanded, that surely must be forever a question “above Antiquarism. not to be resolved by man nor easily perhaps by spirits, except we consult the Provincial Guardians, or tutelary observators.’’ Surprisingly. the sages of the Classical Association are prepared to leap in where all but the guardians and observators might fear to tread, and tell us, with the usual scholarly reservations to keep open the line of retreat, in what key the most famous lyrics of the ancient world were sung by their illustrious authoress. Not only can Professor R. P. WinningtonIngram tentatively assimilate the voice of Sappho to the contralto of the late Miss Kathleen Ferrier; Mr J. G. Landels, with ear still more delicately attuned to the lost chords of the ages, can beat him by distinguishing hers from the technique of Miss Marlene Dietrich and Miss Eartha Kitt. It is all done by deduction from a single vase, on which the great poetess Is depicted, accompanying herself on an instrument called a barbiton, which has longer strings than a lyre. and. therefore, since the mathematical laws of harmonics are ineluctable, returned a deeper note. We must presumably disregard Sappho’s own invocation. “Arise, my godlike lute, and take speech to thy self.” and the ancient writers who say her instrument was the lyre—or perhaps barbiton. like “an unknown fish" of "an island in the Aegean.” is one of those alternative meanings which can be attached to almost any word in the Lexicon. No doubt the scholiast who compared her m appearance to a nightingale which he thought a dingy _ looking bird, intended no innuendo by not mentioning her voice. The social historian would be rash to draw too many deductions about the accomplishments of the eminent Victorians from the properties with which they were furnished in the photographer's studio, or to credit the young ladies of Hollywood with all the horsemanship, oarsmanship, marksmanship and general Admirable Crichtonship that might seem to be implied by the

equipment for portraiture with which they are furnished by their publicity agents. It is pleasant to believe with Mr Landels that the notes Sappho sang to her barbiton were deep and thrilling as the words of her love songs undoubtedly thrilled the generations who were privileged to read more than the sparse and exquisite fragments we possess. We cannot subject his theories to any test. “Fled is that music.”