IN PRESENCE OF THE QUEEN.
The month of August, 1845, witnessed festivities of unusual interest on
the banks of the Rhine.
On Saturday evening, Aug. 9, the Queen and Prince Consort started down
the river from Woolwich in the Royal yacht _Victoria and Albert_; and,
escorted by the _Black Eagle_ and the _Porcupine_, arrived at Antwerp on
Sunday evening, _en route_ for Brühl, in response to an invitation from
King Frederick William IV. and the Queen of Prussia.
The occasion was especially interesting, as this was the first time that
the Queen of England had visited the Continent since her accession to
the throne, and the highest legal authorities were somewhat cruelly
exercised as to the constitutional etiquette of the proceeding. In this
case, however, fact overpowered theory, and on Monday evening the Royal
party was received at Brühl by the King and Queen of Prussia, and
entertained with a grand military concert in the brilliantly illuminated
courtyard of the Palace, where seven hundred performers officiated,
beginning the programme with _God save the Queen_ and ending with _Rule
Britannia_, supplemented by the famous Prussian “_tattoo_”—a kind of
quick march, for drums and fifes, composed about the year 1720, during
the reign of King Frederick the Great.
Her Majesty’s visit was designedly coincident with the inauguration of
the bronze statue erected in honour of Beethoven, which was to take
place at Bonn on the following day. Accordingly, at one o’clock on
Tuesday, Aug. 12, the monument was unveiled, amidst the firing of
cannon, the flourish of trumpets, and the shouts of the multitudes
gathered together from every quarter, not only of Germany, but of every
other music-loving nation in Europe, and in the presence, not only of
the Royal Families of England and Prussia, but of more Royal and
Princely lovers of Art than we have space to mention. And Mdlle. Lind
was also invited—not to the festival, but to sing privately to King
Frederick William’s Royal and distinguished guests at Brühl and the
restored old feudal fortress of Stolzenfels on the Rhine.
Herr Heinrich Brockhaus, of Leipzig, who, it will be remembered, had
visited Berlin in the month of March, makes the following entry in his
Diary for Aug. 7:—
“(1845. Leipzig, Aug. 7.) Eduard’s birthday was celebrated in quite an
exceptional way; namely, by the presence of Jenny Lind.
“She had begged us to take post-tickets for her to Frankfort on the
Main, as she had been summoned by the King of Prussia to Stolzenfels,
on the Rhine, where Queen Victoria is to be received with great
splendour; and I took this opportunity of inviting her to spend with
us the few hours between her arrival and departure.
“I met her at the station, and she seemed pleased with my invitation.
Her Swedish companion, who speaks but little German and no French, and
Herr Berg, who, I believe, was her first teacher, came with her, and
we spent a few hours very pleasantly together.
“She is still in every respect the dear, sensitive, modest girl whom I
learned to know in the spring; and it seems as if the usual
consequences of the excitement and jubilation that she everywhere
creates pass over her. Art is, to her, a veritable religion, of which
she is, herself, a pure and chaste priestess. I have known but few
womanly natures that have made so wholly favourable an impression upon
me as that of Jenny Lind.
“We accompanied the travellers to the post-carriage, and our farewell
was a very hearty one indeed.”
A touching little episode connected with the journey is told in a letter
written to Madame Birch-Pfeiffer from Frankfort, and dated Aug. 10,
1845:—
“I have not much to say; since, as I told you, we spent most of our
time in the _diligence_. But I had one sorrow.
“When we left Leipzig the conductor took with him a little dog—a
Spitz—as they are always obliged to do, for the protection of the
luggage. The little dog was engaging, and every time we came to a
station I kissed him, but soon afterwards the poor little animal fell
under the wheels, and was run over. Ah! it made me so unhappy.”
The English correspondents of the various London journals, while giving
detailed accounts of the “Beethoven Festival” at Bonn, were, of course,
necessarily silent on the subject of the private performances at Court;
but the late Mrs. Grote, in her unpublished ‘Memoir of the Life of Jenny
Lind,’ from which we have already made more than one valuable quotation,
gives the following account of the circumstances:—
“The Queen and Prince and their suite having arrived at the Château of
Brühl—not far from Bonn—Mademoiselle Lind was invited thither, and
took part in the musical entertainment offered by the Royal host to
his guests.
“An English nobleman[50]—then Lord Steward of the Household—who
attended the Queen to Brühl, and who related to me not long afterwards
all that passed there, said that the expectations raised in the Royal
minds by the reports current in Germany respecting Jenny Lind’s
singing were very high indeed. He himself—an amateur of great
experience, and familiarly acquainted with the stage and its votaries
all his life—was rather disposed to be prepared for a disappointment.
King Leopold of Belgium, who was of the party at Brühl, and aware of
My lord Liverpool’s scepticism, smilingly said to him, ‘I expect, that
you will be satisfied, when you have heard the Lind; she is something
extraordinary.’
“Whilst ‘the Lind’ was singing her first air, King Leopold amused
himself by watching the effect produced upon his English friend; and
it was not long before Lord Liverpool, turning his head round, made a
gesture sufficiently expressive to satisfy the King that he
surrendered.
“‘It was,’ said Lord Liverpool, ‘a combination of style, vocal skill,
and quality of voice, which absolutely took one by storm.’
“The Queen and Prince Albert were, both of them, enchanted with the
treat provided for them; insomuch that the King of Prussia pressed
Jenny to favour him with a farther visit, at Stolzenfels, another
schloss belonging to him, near Coblenz. Again Jenny obeyed the Royal
mandate, and again Lord Liverpool was captivated by her incomparable
powers, as were indeed the whole courtly circle there assembled.
“The Queen of England paid her the most cordial compliments,
expressing a ‘hope of seeing her, one day, in England.’
“Jenny was very much pleased with the whole week’s excursion: and
being afterwards at liberty to follow her own bent, she accepted an
engagement to perform a couple of nights in Frankfort, where the
utmost impatience was felt to see and judge one who was beginning to
make so strong a sensation among the whole musical world.”
After the departure of the Royal party from Stolzenfels, Mdlle. Lind
descended the Rhine again as far as Cologne, where, on Aug. 26, she was
serenaded by the company of the theatre, who presented her with a poem
beginning, ‘_Wohl beherrscht Gesang die Geister!_’ beautifully printed
on a white satin fillet, and addressed to her by “Die Mitglieder des
Kölner Stadttheaters, Köln, den 26 August, 1845.”
On the following day she bade farewell to the Rhine Provinces, and
started on her journey to Frankfort, where she was announced to appear,
in _Norma_, on the 29th.
It was during this visit to Frankfort that Mdlle. Lind first actually
met Mr. and Mrs. Grote, of whom she had frequently heard, through Madame
von Koch, and Mr. Edward Lewin; and the acquaintance thus formed soon
ripened into closer intimacy. Mrs. Grote offered to do all that lay in
her power, when she returned to England, to induce Mr. Bunn to rescind
his contract, though she did not expect to obtain this eminently
desirable result without to a certain extent indemnifying the manager
for his disappointment—a condition to which Mdlle. Lind readily agreed,
“adding,” says her friend, “that she would ratify any terms which I
should deem it desirable to arrange, in the way of _délit_, or
‘smart-money’ as the old phrase used to be.”
Before leaving Frankfort, on her return to England, Mrs. Grote held
another confidential communication with her, which she thus describes in
the MS. sketch already quoted:—
“Among the things Jenny said to me during those two days,” she writes,
“one was, that her earnest desire was to have done with the Stage, and
to retire into private life as speedily as was consistent with
pecuniary independence.
“I manifested some surprise at hearing her speak of her profession
with such dislike. She went on to say that it was the Theatre, and the
sort of _entourage_ it involved, that was distasteful to her: that at
the Opera she was liable to be continually intruded upon by curious
idlers and exposed to many indescribable _ennuis_: that the combined
fatigue of acting and singing was exhausting: that the exposure to
cold _coulisses_, after exertions on the stage in a heated atmosphere,
was trying to the chest: the labour of rehearsals, tiresome to a
degree: and that, altogether, she longed for the time to arrive when
she would be rich enough to do without the Theatre—adding, ‘My wants
are few—my tastes simple—a small income would content me.’ She would
sing occasionally, she said, both for charity and for her friends, as
well as for the undying love she felt for the musical Art; but not
act, if she could help it.
“I mention this to prove how consistent her language was all through
the subsequent phases of her artist-life. I must also say that her
modesty and distrust of her own powers, at this period, showed me that
she cherished a lofty standard of ideal excellence, and was far from
thinking herself what every one who heard her thought her—a singer of
the highest order.”
This however was certainly the opinion of the inhabitants of Frankfort,
whose enthusiasm was scarcely less remarkable than that of the audience
at Berlin.
The engagement at Frankfort was for nine nights, from Aug. 29 to Sept.
15, and included three performances of _Norma_, four of _La Sonnambula_,
one of _Der Freischütz_, and one of _Lucia di Lammermoor_. The
‘Frankfort’ correspondent of one of the leading London journals thus
speaks of her reception:—
“Jenny Lind has a voice of extraordinary compass, the only defect in
which is a deficiency of volume in the medium register. Her upper
notes are delicious, as clear as a bell; and she warbles with the
facility of a nightingale. Her execution is of the most brilliant
kind, and nothing can approach the exquisite propriety and aptness of
her _cadenzas_. They always come in at the right moment: she never
sacrifices sense to sound. Her simplicity of style is, indeed, most
rigid; but this charming naturalness it is which goes so home to the
hearts of her hearers. Her shake is perfect—truly marvellous—proving
that she must have an intuitive knowledge of her Art as well as the
best culture. Her style is full of impulse; or, as the French call it,
_abandon_. In the absence of all stage-trickery or conventionalism may
be distinguished the child of genius. Her opening _Cavatina_, in the
presence of Amina’s friends, and her _finale_, were contrasted with
the highest skill. In the first was the modest subdued expression of
joy—in the last, the triumphant outbreak of rapture at being restored
to Elvino. The untiring energy of this last vocal display, after two
encores, electrified the band as well as the audience. Never shall we
forget the amazement of the conductor, Professor Guhr, a first-rate
musician. Throwing away his _bâton_, after the exhibition of this
wondrous power on the part of Jenny Lind, he clapped his hands
furiously over the stage-lamps.”
It was about this time that a proposal was sent from Vienna, by Herr
Pokorny, the lessee of the Theater an der Wien, for some performances at
that famous Opera-House during the coming winter. It was a great
opportunity, but the idea was not at all pleasing to Mdlle. Lind, who
thus wrote about it to her friend, Madame Birch-Pfeiffer, through whom
the engagement had been offered to her:—
“Frankfurt-am-Main,
“4 Sept. 1845.
“DEAR GOOD MOTHER BIRCH,
“What do you think of me, and my obstinacy? For Heaven’s sake do not
be angry!—only let me tell you honestly all about it, and then you
will quite certainly be—more angry than ever!
“Everything goes splendidly with me, and even better than that! and
yet I have such anxiety about Vienna that I scarcely believe I shall
dare to go there. They have such excellent singers in Vienna; and what
can I do there? And, besides that, I gain just as much money by the
journeys I am now making—though Vienna is the chief thing, on account
of the renown.
“I have had the privilege of speaking to the Prince and Princess
Metternich, here in Frankfort, at Baron Rothschild’s, and they have
both advised me to go to Vienna. And yet—only think!—what if I lose my
whole reputation! If I do not please! And this anxiety grows so much
upon me! And all through next winter the thought of my first
appearance in Vienna will follow me like an evil spirit. Ah, yes! I am
very much to be pitied!
“Tell Herr Pokorny that I am very grateful to him for the offered
half-receipts and quite satisfied on the score of money; but—that he
must engage some other singer; for he cannot reckon on me, as I cannot
accept the engagement, and cannot believe that I should be able to
carry it out in Vienna. Break it off, good mother. It is too much for
me. This terrible nervousness destroys everything for me. I sing far
less well than I should, if it were not for this enemy. I cannot
understand how it is that everything goes so well with me. People all
take me by the hand. But all this helps nothing! Herr Pokorny would
not be very well pleased, for instance, if I were to sing there once
only and, that once, fail. For the money he offers me he can get
singers anywhere who are not so difficult to satisfy as I am, and who,
at least, wish for something, while I wish for nothing at all!
“To-morrow (_La Sonnambula_) the Queen of England is coming to the
Theatre, and the King and Queen of Bavaria, and all the royalties of
Darmstadt; that is what they believe here—but I do not! Is not that
lovely?”[51]
The picture is not a cheerful one. But we shall hear more of Vienna
later on.