‘DAS FELDLAGER IN SCHLESIEN.’
Mdlle. Lind’s triumph was but a few days old when she began to devote
herself to the exercise of that boundless charity in which, throughout
the whole of her life, she took infinitely greater interest than that
which she bestowed upon her own advancement in the world.
On Sunday, the 29th of December, Herr Josephson—who had been reading one
of Pastor Lindgren’s sermons to her early in the morning at Madame
Reyer’s—accompanied her, later in the day, to the house of Madame
Birch-Pfeiffer, a lady under whose superintendence she had resumed her
study of the German language so inopportunely interrupted in Dresden.
“She had just returned,” says Herr Josephson in his Diary, “from the
Intendant of the Theatre, Herr von Küstner, who had offered her an
engagement for six months, with an honorarium of six thousand thalers
and a benefit.[41] She had, of course, not yet given her answer; but
she felt grateful and happy that such a sum should have been offered
to her without any suggestion whatever from herself.
“‘I feel bound,’” she said, “‘in one way or another, to prove in a
practical way my thankfulness to God, who has given me so much
prosperity. You remember—do you not?—something that I once spoke to
you about when we were at Dresden? I myself have good reason to
remember it, for now you will be able to go to Italy whenever you
like.’[42]
“We had only a short distance to walk. There was no time for long
explanation. I only replied, therefore, that I thought it was too soon
to think of this, and that, moreover, in accepting her proposal, I
should always consider myself her debtor, as even I might hope for
more success in the future.
“Every day reveals to me some new trait in her character; and I know
not which is greatest, my gratitude to, or my admiration for, her. I
stand daily on a more and more intimate and brotherly footing with
her, and am therefore able to accept gladly and thankfully from her
that which from many others I could not take without a certain
reservation of feeling. I can only pray that, in her restless life,
peace may one day obtain the victory.”
Of the result of this conversation we shall have to speak more fully
hereafter. For the moment we must follow Mdlle. Lind in the fulfilment
of her own career.
She was already accepted as the greatest singer and actress then living.
Meyerbeer was in raptures with her, and his desire that the principal
_rôle_ in his new Opera should be assigned to her grew stronger and
stronger every day. Though he had, _bon gré mal gré_, suffered Fräulein
Tuczec to appear in it on the opening night, he had never relinquished
his long-cherished project. He had written the part of “Vielka”
expressly for Mdlle. Lind, and was quite determined that the task of
interpreting it in accordance with his own idea should be confided to
her. It was due to his artistic position that Fräulein Tuczec should
resign into more masterly hands the duty she had so imprudently
undertaken to fulfil, and fulfilled so imperfectly that the success of
the Opera was more than endangered by the unfitness of the _rôle_ for
her. To this compromise Mdlle. Lind was quite willing to assent, but
some little time and a great deal of very hard study were needed in
order to secure a perfect interpretation of the _rôle_. For, after the
manner of the time-honoured German _Schauspiel_, the new Opera
contained, in place of classical recitative, long passages of spoken
dialogue, and it was chiefly for the sake of attaining a more perfect
accent in the delivery of these that she had resumed her studies in
German under the direction of Madame Birch-Pfeiffer.
She could scarcely have made a better or a more fortunate choice; for
the lady—of whom we shall have to speak again more particularly
hereafter—had herself been well known as a clever and intelligent
actress, and under her maiden name—Charlotte Pfeiffer—had appeared on
the stage with success in Munich, Vienna, Berlin, and many other
important German capitals.
Under the superintendence of this lady, Mdlle. Lind made such rapid
progress in the German language that within less than a fortnight after
her third performance of _Norma_ she was ready to appear in the new
part.
The gifted composer was delighted with her interpretation of his music,
which, as was his wont, he altered, re-wrote, improved, and not
unfrequently injured, with microscopic attention to every minutest
detail till the very last moment. Herr Josephson was present at two of
the last rehearsals, on the 3rd and 4th of January, which he thus
describes in his Diary:—
“January 3, 1845, Meyerbeer was altogether enchanted with Jenny’s
singing, and embraced her at the end of the rehearsal. Before
producing the Opera he called upon her, to the best of my belief, at
least a hundred times, to consult about this, that, or the other. He
alters incessantly, curtails here, dovetails there, and thus, by his
eagerness and anxiety, prevents the spontaneous growth of the work,
and imparts a fragmentary character to its beauty.”
In this fastidious desire to secure the most perfect finish in every
insignificant detail Meyerbeer was only following out his own invariable
custom—and, after all, his crowd of after-thoughts was not greater than
that which haunted Beethoven until his works were actually in print.
However, he was satisfied at last; _Das Feldlager in Schlesien_ was duly
performed, with Mdlle. Lind in the principal part; and its effect upon
the audience was even more striking than that produced by the great
performance of _Norma_ exactly three weeks previously.
The most influential journal of the period gave an account of the
performance no less generously enthusiastic than that which had appeared
after the first representation of _Norma_.
“Through her second _rôle_—‘Vielka,’ in the _Feldlager_—Mdlle. Lind
has proved,” says the critic, “that her talent fulfils the highest
conditions not only in one direction, but in many.
“Our task would never come to an end were we to notice every striking
detail, every truthful charm, with which throughout the entire _rôle_
she illustrated her delineations. Her outward expression rendered
every inward feeling with the veracity of a mirrored picture. Fear,
love, hope, joy, all imprinted themselves with equal ease and
truthfulness to nature upon every gesture and every significant
movement. She set before us earnest, tragic, joyful, lively surprises,
in endless variety. We remember, for instance, the manner in which she
rendered the little phrase, ‘He is saved! He is hidden!’ in the finale
to the first act; how, in the third act, she dragged Conrad to the
writing-table; and—more beautiful than all—how she sang the little
added recitative at the close as she retired backwards from the royal
cabinet.
“But are we to busy ourselves, then, only with the acting? Have we
nothing to say concerning the singer?
“Yes, indeed! to repeat everything that we said after her first
appearance. The singer is here exactly what she was then. The mild
_timbre_ of the voice, the clearness of the finished passages, the
colouring of the tones through their ever-changing expressions, are
here, as everywhere, apparent. In a host of piquant cadences
introduced by the composer, no less than in the duet with the two
flutes in the third act,[43] the art of the singer asserts itself in
its most powerful form. And thus a picture is presented that, through
the romantic conception of the whole no less than through the charm of
its multifarious details, imprints itself indelibly upon the soul.”
It was in all probability this highly-favourable critique which
Mademoiselle Lind sent to her friend, Fru Lindblad, in a letter dated
January 8, 1845, from which we reproduce the following extract:—
“Everything seems to go well in hand. It would be impossible to
imagine a greater success than I have made here in Berlin. Sontag
herself had not so brilliant a triumph. Last Sunday, the 5th, I
appeared in Meyerbeer’s new Opera, and I herewith enclose a critique.
“I do feel so happy about Meyerbeer’s exceeding satisfaction. And I
feel easier in my mind for having been able to put his Opera into
better relief; for through Mdlle. Tuczec’s unequal rendering of my
part it very nearly came to grief. I almost think I achieved a greater
triumph than in _Norma_.
“Last night Josephson and I were at Frau Bettina Arnim’s, and I cannot
conceive how the time passed so quickly. We did not return till after
twelve! The old lady is divinely childlike sometimes. When she is in
her right element, and creeps up in her chair, with all those sweet
girls dispersed around her on the floor, one can only envy their
light-heartedness and independence of the narrow judgment of the
world.
“Nowadays the world is influencing me very considerably, and just now
I cannot say that creeping is my principal pleasure. It looks,
however, as if I might become independent some day; for I am now
invited to go to London, and it will be curious to see where all this
will land me. This evening I am invited to Tieck’s.”
Continued on the 9th of January, 1845:—
“Last evening was one rich in enjoyment. The talented old man,[44]
with that frail body of his, was a touching sight. I had the honour of
taking turns with him; for, when he had recited a poem, I had to sing
a song. And in this way the evening flew by very quickly indeed.”
Though she speaks thus modestly of the possibility that she may some day
“become independent,” it was evident that her future was now assured.
The demonstration that accompanied her first appearance in _Das
Feldlager in Schlesien_ proved to be no evanescent burst of enthusiasm.
Every one of her performances was a veritable triumph, and so strong was
the popular feeling that, after the fourth performance of _Das Feldlager
in Schlesien_ on the 21st of January, she was publicly greeted with a
serenade, which is thus described in the journal from which we have
already quoted:—
“After the Opera, in which, as always, Mdlle. Lind had achieved the
most brilliant success, a number of singers and young musicians
greeted the artist at her residence with a vocal serenade. Four poems,
by Messieurs Förster, Kopisch, Schnackenburg, and Rellstab, had been
set to music for the occasion by Messieurs Rungenhagen, Commer, Lührs,
and Wichmann. The artist received this expression of homage to her
talent in the modest manner which so greatly enhances the value of her
artistic gifts, and seemed deeply moved by this acknowledgment of
them. The poems were brought to her printed upon a white satin fillet,
and presented, with a laurel crown, upon a satin cushion.”
The white satin fillet was preserved by Madame Goldschmidt, and is still
treasured by her family as a precious heirloom.