Here, in the first place, is a marvellous sense of period. Perhaps because of the concentration on two representative figures, it is possible to feel even closer to ''The Era of Patti'' than in the excellent anthology of Nimbus's that bears that name (7/93). The world of 'the real record collectors of old', and of their authorities P. G. Hurst and Herman Klein, the sense, too, of a calendar in which the digits had changed from 18 to 19, while in the great opera houses for just a few years longer the world stayed reassuringly the same: all of this is present. And we look at the photographs, with Eames's plaited tresses resting on the broad bosom without a hint of cleavage, and Plancon's suit buttonhole and whiskers immaculately in place like the notes of his flawlessly even scale. Then the music itself, the programme opening (how appropriately) with Meyerbeer and ending with such essential nineteenth-century classics as La sonnambula and Rossini's Stabat mater.
Both of those are sung by Plancon, who has the slightly larger share (12 recordings to Eames's nine). His was also the easier voice to record in those days, and the one which requires less adjustment of modern ears in listening. The incomparable mastery of style and technique, the beauty and resourcefulness of his voice, the life and variety of his characterizations, are all newly impressive. With the soprano, one sometimes wishes for a brighter tone (when the contralto Louise Homer enters in the duet from Lohengrin the listener may have to revise notions of what is attributable to the primitive recording), she is also no Susanna (in the Figaro duet with the excellent Count of Emilio de Gogorza), and in ''La ci darem'' does some indefensible things with the time. Yet there are beauties here too, and, problematic as it may be for modern expectations to accept this, much can be gained from a study of her Gretchen am Spinnrade.
The selection of recordings by both singers has been well made, though inevitably there are regrettable absences—Plancon's ''Vallons de l'Helvetie'' (Le chalet by Adam) for instance and Eames's heartfelt singing of Tosti's Dopo. The one record which they made together, the final trio in Faust with Charles Dalmores sandwiched between them, is perhaps rightly omitted. When comparing the issue with the Romophone discs (Eames, 11/93 Plancon, 12/94), the first thought is that it would be a pity to miss the opportunity of having the complete output of such singers as these while they are available. The second is that the Romophone transfers are brighter and clearer in detail. I should add that the amount of hall-resonance in these Nimbus transfers is, I would have thought, likely to be unacceptable only to people who have already made up their mind that they don't want any at all, and the horn-resonance points, troublesome in some of the earlier issues in the series, seem to have been virtually eliminated.'