V.

Yet with all this flattery and admiration, which would have fed the

conceit of a weaker woman to madness, Jenny Lind remained the same

quiet, simple-hearted, almost diffident woman as of yore. The great

pianist and composer Moscheles writes: "What shall I say of Jenny Lind?

I can find no words adequate to give you any idea of the impression she

has made.... This is no short-lived fit of public enthusiasm. I wanted

to know her off the stage as well as on; but, as she lives at some

distance from me, I asked her in a letter to fix upon an hour for me to

call. Simple and unceremonious as she is, she came the next day herself,

bringing the answer verbally. So much modesty and so much greatness

united are seldom if ever to be met with; and, although her intimate

friend Mendelssohn had given me an insight into the noble qualities of

her character, I was surprised to find them so apparent."

From a variety of accounts we are justified in concluding that never had

there been such a musical enthusiasm in London. Since the days when the

world fought for hours at the pit-door to see the seventh farewell of

Siddons, nothing had been seen in the least approaching the scenes

at the entrance of the theatre on the "Lind" nights. Of her various

impersonations during the season of 1847, her _Amina_ in "Sonnambula"

made the deepest impression on the town, as it was marked by several

original features, both in the acting and singing, which were remarkably

effective. Her performance of _Norma_ was afterward held by judicious

critics to be far inferior to that of Grisi in its dramatic aspect; but,

when the mania was at its height, those who dared to impeach the ideal

perfection of everything done by the idol of the hour were consigned

to perdition as idiotic slanderers. Chorley wrote with satirical

bitterness, though himself a warm admirer of the "Swedish Nightingale":

"It was a curious experience to sit and to wait for what should come

next, and to wonder whether it really was the case that music never had

been heard till the year 1847."

Mlle. Lind passed the winter at Stockholm, and it is needless to speak

of the pride and delight of her townspeople in the singer who had

created such an unprecedented sensation in the musical world. All the

places at the theatre when she sang fetched immense premiums, especially

as it was known that the professional gains of Jenny Lind during this

engagement were to be devoted to the endowment of an asylum for the

support of decayed artists, and a school for young girls studying

music. When she left Stockholm again for London, the scene was even

more brilliant and impressive than that which had marked her previous

departure for England.

The "Lind" mania in the English capital during the spring of 1848 raged

without diminution. The anecdotes of her munificent charity, piety,

and goodness filled the public prints and fed the popular idolatry. She

added to her repertoire this season the _rôles_ of _Susanna_ in

Mozart's great comic opera, _Elvira_ in "Puritani," _Adina_ in "L'Elisir

d'Amore," and _Giulia_ in Spontini's "Vestale." As _Giulia_ she reached

her high-water mark in tragedy, and as _Adina_ in "L'Elisir" she was

deliciously arch and fascinating. After the opera had closed, she

remained in England during the summer and winter, owing to the

disturbed state of the Continent, and gave extended concert tours in the

provinces, for which she received immense sums of money. Many concerts

she also devoted to charitable purposes, and splendid acknowledgments

were made as gifts to her by corporations and private individuals in

recognition of her lavish benevolence. Jenny Lind had now determined to

take leave of the lyric stage, and in the April season of 1849 she gave

a limited season of farewell performances at Her Majesty's Theatre. The

last appearance was on May 10th in her original character of _Alice_.

The opera-house presented on that night of final adieu one of those

striking scenes which words can hardly depict without seeming to be

extravagant. The crowd was dense in every nook and corner of the house,

including all the great personages of the realm. The whole royal family

were present, the Houses of Parliament had emptied themselves to swell

the throng, and everybody distinguished in art, letters, science, or

fashion contributed to the splendor of the audience. When the curtain

fell, and the deafening roar of applause, renewed again and again, had

ceased, Jenny Lind came forward, led by the tenor Gardoni. She

retired, but was called again in front of the curtain, and bowed her

acknowledgments. A third time she was summoned, and this time she stood,

her eyes streaming with tears, while the audience shouted themselves

hoarse, so prolonged and irrepressible was the enthusiasm.

Now that the "Lind" fever is a thing of the past, it is possible to

survey her genius as a lyric artist in the right perspective. Her voice

was of bright, thrilling, and sympathetic quality, with greater strength

and purity in the upper register, but somewhat defective in the other.

These two portions of her voice she united, however, with great artistic

dexterity, so that the power of the upper notes was not allowed to

outshine the lower. Her execution was great, though inferior to that of

Persiani and the older and still greater singer, Catalani. It appeared,

perhaps, still greater than it was, on account of the natural reluctance

of the voice. Her taste in ornamentation was original and brilliant,

but always judicious, a moderation not often found among great executive

singers. She composed all her own cadenzas, and many of them were of

a character and performance such as to have evoked the strongest

admiration of such musical authorities as Meyerbeer, Mendelssohn, and

Moscheles for their creative science. Her pianissimo tones were so fined

down that they had almost the effect of ventriloquism, so exquisitely

were they attenuated; and yet they never lost their peculiarly musical

quality. As an actress Jenny Lind had no very startling power, and but

little versatility, as her very limited opera repertory proved; but

into what she did she infused a grace, sympathy, and tenderness, which,

combined with the greatness of her singing and some indescribable

quality in the voice itself, produced an effect on audiences with but

few parallels in the annals of the opera. It is a little strange that

Jenny Lind would never sing in Paris, but obstinately refused the most

tempting offers. Perhaps she never forgot the circumstances of her first

experience with a Parisian _impressario_.

It was at Lubeck, Germany, where she was singing in concert in 1849,

that she concluded a treaty with Mr. Barnum for a series of one hundred

and fifty concerts in America under his auspices. The terms were

one thousand dollars per night for each of the performances, and the

expenses of the whole troupe, which consisted of Sig. Belletti and

Julius Benedict (since Sir Julius Benedict). The period intervening

before her American tour was occupied in concert-giving on the continent

and in England. The proceeds of these entertainments were given to

charity, and the demonstrations of the public everywhere proved how

firmly fixed in the heart of the music-loving public the great Swedish

singer remained. Her last appearance before crossing the ocean was at

Liverpool, before an audience of more than three thousand people, when

the English people gave their idol a most affecting display of their

admiration.