We have just returned from Nice and Cannes, also from a very disappointing
yachting cruise in the Mediterranean, which proved to be a complete
fiasco. I must tell you about it. Lord Albert Gower had invited us to go
to Spezia on his beautiful yacht. From there we were to go to Florence,
and later make a little trip in Italy. We had all been asked to a dinner
at the Duke de Vallombrosa's villa at Cannes, and some of us to spend the
night there.
The evening before we started there was a large dinner at the prefect's
given in honor of the Austrian Ambassador, Prince Metternich, who had come
on an official visit concerning an archduke, at which Lord Albert proposed
that we should take Cannes _en route_, spend the night there, and start
the next day for Spezia.
I thought that I was going to have a beautiful time when we left Nice. The
sun was shining brightly, and there was every prospect of a good breeze,
and I settled down on deck with books and work, thinking how delightful it
was all going to be, and how pleasant it was to get away from the
fatiguing gaieties of Nice, where there had been a perfect avalanche of
dinners, balls, and theater-parties which even surpassed Paris.
Well! A dead calm set in about an hour after we had started, and only a
vestige of a breeze wafted us along on our way, and we never arrived at
Cannes till seven o'clock, just in time to disembark, jump into a
carriage, and reach the Duke de Vallombrosa's villa. I thought that I was
very expeditious over my toilette, notwithstanding which I found myself
half an hour late for dinner. Fortunately, however, our hosts were lenient
and accepted my excuses.
Lord and Lady Brougham, Duke de Croy, and many others were there. And who
else do you think? No less a personage than Jenny Lind! You may imagine my
delight at seeing her--"the Goddess of Song," the idol of my youth--about
whom still hung a halo.
She is neither handsome nor distinguished-looking; in fact, quite the
contrary: plain features, a pert nose, sallow skin, and very yellow hair.
However, when she smiled, which was not often, her face became almost
handsome.
After dinner the Duchess de Vallombrosa begged her to sing; but she flatly
refused, and there was no other music, thank heaven! I was presented to
her, in spite of her too evident dislike for new acquaintances; but when
she heard that I sang she seemed more amiable and interested. She even
asked me to come to see her the next day. "That is," she said, "if you can
climb my hill." I told her that I was sure I could climb her hill, and
would, even if I had to climb on all fours.
After having been on the glaring Mediterranean all day I could hardly keep
my eyes open, and retired before the last carriage had driven away. The
next morning I looked out of my window and saw our yacht dancing on the
sparkling waves. We expected to leave for Spezia that afternoon.
At eleven o'clock, the hour appointed, I commenced my pilgrimage to the
hill of the "Swedish nightingale," with what emotion, I can hardly tell
you! I left the carriage at the foot of the hill, and climbed and climbed,
until I reached the heaven where the angel lived. It was the reverse of
Jacob's dream. His angel climbed down to him, whereas I had to climb up to
mine. She always used a donkey for her climbings.
She received me very cordially, saying, "I welcome you to my
_bicoque_," and led me through a few badly furnished rooms with hay-
stuffed sofas and hard, uncompromising chairs and queer-looking tables
painted in red and green out on to the veranda, which commanded a
magnificent view over the sea and the Esterel Mountains.
I wish you could have seen her! She was dressed in a white brocade trimmed
with a piece of red silk around the bottom, a red, blousy waist covered
with gold heads sewed fantastically over it, perhaps odds and ends of old
finery, and gold shoes!
Just fancy, at eleven o'clock in the morning! We talked music. She hated
Verdi and all he had made, she hated Rossini and all he had made; she
hated the French; she hated the Americans; she abhorred the very name of
Barnum, who, she said, "exhibited me just as he did the big giant or any
other of his monstrosities."
"But," said I, "you must not forget how you were idolized and appreciated
in America. Even as a child I can remember how they worshiped Jenny Lind."
"Worshiped or not," she answered, sharply, "I was nothing more than a show
in a showman's hands; I can never forget that."
We sat on her veranda, and she told me all about her early life and her
musical career. She said she was born in 1820, and when only ten years old
she used to sing in cafes in Stockholm. At seventeen she sang "Alice" in
"Robert-le-Diable"! Then we talked of our mutual teacher, dear Garcia, of
whom she took lessons in 1841 and whom, for a wonder, she liked.
At the _Rhein-fest_ given for Queen Victoria in 1844 she said that she
had had a great success, and that Queen Victoria had always been a friend
to her since that time.