SUCCESSFUL MANAGEMENT.
HEAD-WORK AND HAND-WORK--MANAGING PUBLIC OPINION--CREATING A
FUROR--THE NEW YORK HERALD--JENNY LIND’S EVIL ADVISERS--JOHN
JAY--MISS LIND’S CHARITIES--A POOR GIRL IN BOSTON--THE NIGHTINGALE
AT IRANISTAN--RUMOR OF HER MARRIAGE TO P. T. BARNUM--THE STORY
BASED ON OUR “ENGAGEMENT”--WHAT IRANISTAN DID FOR ME--AVOIDING
CROWDS--IN PHILADELPHIA AND BALTIMORE--A SUBSTITUTE FOR MISS
LIND--OUR ORCHESTRA--PRESIDENT FILLMORE, CLAY, FOOTE, BENTON,
SCOTT, CASS, AND WEBSTER--VISIT TO MT. VERNON--CHRISTMAS
PRESENTS--NEW YEAR’S EVE--WE GO TO HAVANA--PLAYING BALL--FREDERIKA
BREMER--A HAPPY MONTH IN CUBA.
No one can imagine the amount of head-work and hand-work which I
performed during the first four weeks after Jenny Lind’s arrival.
Anticipating much of this, I had spent some time in August at the White
Mountains to recruit my energies. Of course I had not been idle during
the summer. I had put innumerable means and appliances into operation
for the furtherance of my object, and little did the public see of the
hand that indirectly pulled at their heart-strings, preparatory to a
relaxation of their purse-strings; and these means and appliances were
continued and enlarged throughout the whole of that triumphal musical
campaign.
The first great assembly at Castle Garden was not gathered by Jenny
Lind’s musical genius and powers alone. She was effectually introduced
to the public before they had seen or heard her. She appeared in the
presence of a jury already excited to enthusiasm in her behalf. She
more than met their expectations, and all the means I had adopted to
prepare the way were thus abundantly justified.
As a manager, I worked by setting others to work. Biographies of the
Swedish Nightingale were largely circulated; “Foreign Correspondence”
glorified her talents and triumphs by narratives of her benevolence; and
“printer’s ink” was invoked in every possible form, to put and keep
Jenny Lind before the people. I am happy to say that the press generally
echoed the voice of her praise from first to last. I could fill many
volumes with printed extracts which are nearly all of a similar tenor to
the following unbought, unsolicited editorial article, which appeared in
the _New York Herald_ of Sept. 10, 1850 (the day before the first
concert given by Miss Lind in the United States):
“JENNY LIND AND THE AMERICAN PEOPLE.--What ancient monarch was he,
either in history or in fable, who offered half his kingdom (the
price of box tickets and choice seats in those days) for the
invention of an original sensation, or the discovery of a fresh
pleasure? That sensation--that pleasure which royal power in the
old world failed to discover--has been called into existence at a
less price, by Mr. Barnum, a plain republican, and is now about to
be enjoyed by the sovereigns of the new world.
“Jenny Lind, the most remarkable phenomenon in musical art which
has for the last century flashed across the horizon of the old
world, is now among us, and will make her _début_ to-morrow night
to a house of nearly ten thousand listeners, yielding in proceeds
by auction, a sum of forty or fifty thousand dollars. For the last
ten days our musical reporters have furnished our readers with
every matter connected with her arrival in this metropolis, and the
steps adopted by Mr. Barnum in preparation for her first
appearance. The proceedings of yesterday, consisting of the sale of
the remainder of the tickets, and the astonishing, the wonderful
sensation produced at her first rehearsal on the few persons,
critics in musical art, who were admitted on the occasion, will be
found elsewhere in our columns.
“We concur in everything that has been said by our musical
reporter, describing her extraordinary genius--her unrivalled
combination of power and art. Nothing has been exaggerated, not an
iota. Three years ago, more or less, we heard Jenny Lind on many
occasions when she made the first great sensation in Europe, by her
_début_ at the London Opera House. Then she was great in power--in
art--in genius; now she is greater in all. We speak from experience
and conviction. Then she astonished, and pleased, and fascinated
the thousands of the British aristocracy; now she will fascinate,
and please, and delight, and almost make mad with musical
excitement, the millions of the American democracy. To-morrow
night, this new sensation--this fresh movement--this excitement
excelling all former excitements--will be called into existence,
when she pours out the notes of _Casta Diva_, and exhibits her
astonishing powers--her wonderful peculiarities, that seem more of
heaven than of earth--more of a voice from eternity, than from the
lips of a human being.
“We speak soberly--seriously--calmly. The public expectation has
run very high for the last week--higher than at any former period
of our past musical annals. But high as it has risen, the
reality--the fact--the concert--the voice and power of Jenny
Lind--will far surpass all past expectation. Jenny Lind is a
wonder, and a prodigy in song--and no mistake.”
As usual, however, the _Herald_ very soon “took it all back” and roundly
abused Miss Lind and persistently attacked her manager. As usual, too,
the public paid no attention to the _Herald_ and doubled their patronage
of the Jenny Lind concerts.
After the first month the business became thoroughly systematized, and
by the help of such agents as my faithful treasurer, L. C. Stewart, and
the indefatigable Le Grand Smith, my personal labors were materially
relieved; but from the first concert on the 11th of September, 1850,
until the ninety-third concert on the 9th of June, 1851, a space of nine
months, I did not know a waking moment that was entirely free from
anxiety.
I could not hope to be exempted from trouble and perplexity in managing
an enterprise which depended altogether on popular favor, and which
involved great consequences to myself; but I did not expect the numerous
petty annoyances which beset me, especially in the early period of the
concerts. Miss Lind did not dream, nor did any one else, of the
unparalleled enthusiasm that would greet her; and the first immense
assembly at Castle Garden somewhat prepared her, I suspect, to listen to
evil advisers. It would seem that the terms of our revised contract were
sufficiently liberal to her and sufficiently hazardous to myself, to
justify the expectation of perfectly honorable treatment; but certain
envious intermeddlers appeared to think differently. “Do you not see,
Miss Lind, that Mr. Barnum is coining money out of your genius?” said
they; of course she saw it, but the high-minded Swede despised and
spurned the advisers who recommended her to repudiate her contract with
me at all hazards, and take the enterprise into her own hands--possibly
to put it into theirs. I, however, suffered much from the unreasonable
interference of her lawyer, Mr. John Jay. Benedict and Belletti behaved
like men, and Jenny afterwards expressed to me her regret that she had
for a moment listened to the vexatious exactions of her legal
counsellor.
To show the difficulties with which I had to contend thus early in my
enterprise, I copy a letter which I wrote, a little more than one month
after Miss Lind commenced her engagement with me, to my friend Mr.
Joshua Bates, of Messrs. Baring, Brothers & Co., London:
NEW YORK, Oct. 23, 1850.
JOSHUA BATES ESQ.:
DEAR SIR,--I take the liberty to write you a few lines, merely to
say that we are getting along as well as could reasonably be
expected. In this country you are aware that the rapid accumulation
of wealth always creates much envy, and envy soon augments to
malice. Such are the elements at work to a limited degree against
myself, and although Miss Lind, Benedict and myself have never, as
yet, had the slightest feelings between us, to my knowledge, except
those of friendship, yet I cannot well see how this can long
continue in face of the fact that, nearly every day, they allow
persons (some moving in the first classes of society) to approach
them, and spend hours in traducing me; even her attorney, Mr. John
Jay, has been so blind to her interests, as to aid in poisoning her
mind against me, by pouring into her ears the most silly twaddle,
all of which amounts to nothing and less than nothing--such as the
regret that I was a ‘showman,’ exhibitor of Tom Thumb, etc., etc.
Without the elements which I possess for business, as well as my
knowledge of human nature, acquired in catering for the public, the
result of her concerts here would not have been pecuniarily one
half as much as at present--and such men as the Hon. Edward
Everett, G. G. Howland, and others will tell you that there is no
charlatanism or lack of dignity in my management of these concerts.
I know as well as any person that the merits of Jenny Lind are the
best capital to depend upon to secure public favor, and I have
thus far acted on this knowledge. Everything which money and
attention can procure for their comfort, they have, and I am glad
to know that they are satisfied on this score. All I fear is, that
these continual backbitings, if listened to by her, will, by and
by, produce a feeling of distrust or regret, which will lead to
unpleasant results.
The fact is, her mind ought to be as free as air, and she herself
as free as a bird, and, being satisfied of my probity and ability,
she should turn a deaf ear to all envious and malevolent attacks on
me. I have hoped that by thus briefly stating to you the facts in
the case, you might be induced for her interests as well as mine to
drop a line of advice to Mr. Benedict and another to Mr. Jay on
this subject. If I am asking or expecting too much, I pray you to
not give it a thought, for I feel myself fully able to carry
through my rights alone, although I should deplore nothing so much
as to be obliged to do so in a feeling of unfriendliness. I have
risked much money on the issue of this speculation--it has proved
successful. I am full of perplexity and anxiety, and labor
continually for success, and I cannot allow ignorance or envy to
rob me of the fruits of my enterprise.
Sincerely and gratefully, yours,
P. T. BARNUM.
It is not my purpose to enter into full details of all of the Lind
concerts, though I have given elsewhere a transcript from the account
books of my treasurer, presenting a table of the place and exact
receipts of each concert. This will gratify curiosity, and at the same
time indicate our route of travel. Meanwhile, I devote a few pages to
interesting incidents connected with Miss Lind’s visit to America.
Jenny Lind’s character for benevolence became so generally known, that
her door was beset by persons asking charity, and she was in the
receipt, while in the principal cities, of numerous letters, all on the
same subject. Her secretary examined and responded favorably to some of
them. He undertook at first to answer them all, but finally abandoned
that course in despair. I knew of many instances in which she gave sums
of money to applicants, varying in amount from $20, $50, $500, to
$1,000, and in one instance she gave $5,000 to a Swedish friend.
One night, while giving a concert in Boston, a girl approached the
ticket-office, and laying down $3 for a ticket, remarked, “There goes
half a month’s earnings, but I am determined to hear Jenny Lind.” Miss
Lind’s secretary heard the remark, and a few minutes afterwards coming
into her room, he laughingly related the circumstance. “Would you know
the girl again?” asked Jenny, with an earnest look. Upon receiving an
affirmative reply, she instantly placed a $20 gold-piece in his hand,
and said, “Poor girl! give her that with my best compliments.” He at
once found the girl, who cried with joy when she received the
gold-piece, and heard the kind words with which the gift was
accompanied.
The night after Jenny’s arrival in Boston, a display of fireworks was
given in her honor, in front of the Revere House, after which followed a
beautiful torchlight procession by the Germans of that city.
On her return from Boston to New York, Jenny, her companion, and Messrs.
Benedict and Belletti, stopped at Iranistan, my residence in Bridgeport,
where they remained until the following day. The morning after her
arrival, she took my arm and proposed a promenade through the grounds.
She seemed much pleased, and said, “I am astonished that you should have
left such a beautiful place for the sake of travelling through the
country with me.”
The same day she told me in a playful mood, that she had heard a most
extraordinary report. “I have heard that you and I are about to be
married,” said she; “now how could such an absurd report ever have
originated?”
“Probably from the fact that we are ‘engaged,’” I replied. She enjoyed a
joke, and laughed heartily.
“Do you know, Mr. Barnum,” said she, “that if you had not built
Iranistan, I should never have come to America for you?”
I expressed my surprise, and asked her to explain.
“I had received several applications to visit the United States,” she
continued, “but I did not much like the appearance of the applicants,
nor did I relish the idea of crossing 3,000 miles of ocean; so I
declined them all. But the first letter which Mr. Wilton, your agent,
addressed me, was written upon a sheet headed with a beautiful engraving
of Iranistan. It attracted my attention. I said to myself, a gentleman
who has been so successful in his business as to be able to build and
reside in such a palace cannot be a mere ‘adventurer.’ So I wrote to
your agent, and consented to an interview, which I should have declined,
if I had not seen the picture of Iranistan!”
“That, then, fully pays me for building it,” I replied; “for I intend
and expect to make more by this musical enterprise than Iranistan cost
me.”
“I really hope so,” she replied; “but you must not be too sanguine, you
know, ‘man proposes but God disposes.’”
Jenny Lind always desired to reach a place in which she was to sing,
without having the time of her arrival known, thus avoiding the
excitement of promiscuous crowds. As a manager, however, I knew that the
interests of the enterprise depended in a great degree upon these
excitements. Although it frequently seemed inconceivable to her how so
many thousands should have discovered her secret and consequently
gathered together to receive her, I was not so much astonished, inasmuch
as my agent always had early telegraphic intelligence of the time of
her anticipated arrival, and was not slow in communicating the
information to the public.
On reaching Philadelphia, a large concourse of persons awaited the
approach of the steamer which conveyed her. With difficulty we pressed
through the crowd, and were followed by many thousands to Jones’s Hotel.
The street in front of the building was densely packed by the populace,
and poor Jenny, who was suffering from a severe headache, retired to her
apartments. I tried to induce the crowd to disperse, but they declared
they would not do so until Jenny Lind should appear on the balcony. I
would not disturb her, and knowing that the tumult might prove an
annoyance to her, I placed her bonnet and shawl upon her companion, Miss
Ahmansen, and led her out on the balcony. She bowed gracefully to the
multitude, who gave her three hearty cheers and quietly dispersed. Miss
Lind was so utterly averse to any thing like deception, that we never
ventured to tell her the part which her bonnet and shawl had played in
the absence of their owner.
Jenny was in the habit of attending church whenever she could do so
without attracting notice. She always preserved her nationality, also,
by inquiring out and attending Swedish churches wherever they could be
found. She gave $1,000 to a Swedish church in Chicago.
While in Boston, a poor Swedish girl, a domestic in a family at Roxbury,
called on Jenny. She detained her visitor several hours, talking about
home, and other matters, and in the evening took her in her carriage to
the concert, gave her a seat, and sent her back to Roxbury in a
carriage, at the close of the performances. I have no doubt the poor
girl carried with her substantial evidences of her countrywoman’s
bounty.
My eldest daughter, Caroline, and her friend, Mrs. Lyman, of Bridgeport,
accompanied me on the tour from New York to Havana, and thence home,
_via_ New Orleans and the Mississippi.
We were at Baltimore on the Sabbath, and my daughter, accompanying a
friend, who resided in the city, to church, took a seat with her in the
choir, and joined in the singing. A number of the congregation, who had
seen Caroline with me the day previous, and supposed her to be Jenny
Lind, were yet laboring under the same mistake, and it was soon
whispered through the church that Jenny Lind was in the choir! The
excitement was worked to its highest pitch when my daughter rose as one
of the musical group. Every ear was on the alert to catch the first
notes of her voice, and when she sang, glances of satisfaction passed
through the assembly. Caroline, quite unconscious of the attention she
attracted, continued to sing to the end of the hymn. Not a note was lost
upon the ears of the attentive congregation. “What an exquisite singer!”
“Heavenly sounds!” “I never heard the like!” and similar expressions
were whispered through the church.
At the conclusion of the services, my daughter and her friend found the
passage way to their carriage blocked by a crowd who were anxious to
obtain a nearer view of the “Swedish Nightingale,” and many persons that
afternoon boasted, in good faith, that they had listened to the
extraordinary singing of the great songstress. The pith of the joke is
that we have never discovered that my daughter has any extraordinary
claims as a vocalist.
Our orchestra in New York consisted of sixty. When we started on our
southern tour, we took with us permanently as the orchestra, twelve of
the best musicians we could select, and in New Orleans augmented the
force to sixteen. We increased the number to thirty-five, forty or
fifty, as the case might be, by choice of musicians residing where the
concerts were given. On our return to New York from Havana, we enlarged
the orchestra to one hundred performers.
The morning after our arrival in Washington, President Fillmore called,
and left his card, Jenny being out. When she returned and found the
token of his attention, she was in something of a flurry. “Come,” said
she, “we must call on the President immediately.”
“Why so?” I inquired.
“Because he has called on me, and of course that is equivalent to a
command for me to go to his house.”
I assured her that she might make her mind at ease, for whatever might
be the custom with crowned heads, our Presidents were not wont to
“command” the movements of strangers, and that she would be quite in
time if she returned his call the next day. She did so, and was charmed
with the unaffected bearing of the President, and the warm kindnesses
expressed by his amiable wife and daughter, and consented to spend the
evening with them in conformity with their request. She was accompanied
to the “White House” by Messrs Benedict, Belletti and myself, and
several happy hours were spent in the private circle of the President’s
family.
Mr. Benedict, who engaged in a long quiet conversation with Mr.
Fillmore, was highly pleased with the interview. A foreigner, accustomed
to court etiquette, is generally surprised at the simplicity which
characterizes the Chief Magistrate of this Union. In 1852 I called on
the President with my friend the late Mr. Brettell, of London, who
resided in St. James Palace, and was quite a worshipper of the Queen,
and an ardent admirer of all the dignities and ceremonies of royalty. He
expected something of the kind in visiting the President of the United
States, and was highly pleased with his disappointment.
Both concerts in Washington were attended by the President and his
family, and every member of the Cabinet. I noticed, also, among the
audience, Henry Clay, Benton, Foote, Cass and General Scott, and nearly
every member of Congress. On the following morning, Miss Lind was called
upon by Mr. Webster, Mr. Clay, General Cass, and Colonel Benton, and all
parties were evidently gratified. I had introduced Mr. Webster to her in
Boston. Upon hearing one of her wild mountain songs in New York, and
also in Washington, Mr. Webster signified his approval by rising,
drawing himself up to his full height, and making a profound bow. Jenny
was delighted by this expression of praise from the great statesman.
When I first introduced Miss Lind to Mr. Webster, at the Revere House,
in Boston, she was greatly impressed with his manners and conversation,
and after his departure, walked up and down the room in great
excitement, exclaiming: “Ah! Mr. Barnum, that is a man; I have never
before seen such a man!”
We visited the Capitol while both Houses were in session. Miss Lind took
the arm of Hon. C. F. Cleveland, representative from Connecticut, and
was by him escorted into various parts of the Capitol and the grounds,
with all of which she was much pleased.
While I was in Washington an odd reminiscence of my old show-days in the
South came back to me in a curious way. Some years before, in 1836, my
travelling show company had stopped at a hotel in Jackson, Mississippi,
and, as the house was crowded, soon after I went to bed five or six men
came into the room with cards and a candle and asked permission, as
there was no other place, to sit down and play a quiet game of “brag.” I
consented on condition that I might get up and participate, which was
permitted and in a very little while, as I knew nothing whatever of the
game, I lost fifty dollars. Good “hands” and good fortune soon enabled
me to win back my money, at which point one of the players who had been
introduced to me as “Lawyer Foote” said:
“Now the best thing you can do is to go back to bed; you don’t know
anything about the game, and these fellows do, and they’ll skin you.”
I acted upon his advice. And now, years afterwards, when Senator Foote
called upon Miss Lind the story came back to me, and while I was talking
with him I remarked:
“Fifteen years ago, when I was in the South, I became acquainted with a
lawyer named Foote, at Jackson, Mississippi.”
“It must have been me,” said the Senator, “I am the only ‘lawyer Foote,
of Jackson, Mississippi.’”
“Oh! no, it could not have been you,” and I told him the story.
“It was me,” he whispered in my ear, and added, “I used to gamble like
h--l in those days.”
During the week I was invited with Miss Lind and her immediate friends,
to visit Mount Vernon, with Colonel Washington, the then proprietor,
and Mr. Seaton, ex-Mayor of Washington, and Editor of the
_Intelligencer_. Colonel Washington chartered a steamboat for the
purpose. We were landed a short distance from the tomb, which we first
visited. Proceeding to the house, we were introduced to Mrs. Washington,
and several other ladies. Much interest was manifested by Miss Lind in
examining the mementoes of the great man whose home it had been. A
beautiful collation was spread out and arranged in fine taste. Before
leaving, Mrs. Washington presented Jenny with a book from the library,
with the name of Washington written by his own hand. She was much
overcome at receiving this present, called me aside, and expressed her
desire to give something in return. “I have nothing with me,” she said,
“excepting this watch and chain, and I will give that if you think it
will be acceptable.” I knew the watch was very valuable, and told her
that so costly a present would not be expected, nor would it be proper.
“The expense is nothing, compared to the value of that book,” she
replied, with deep emotion; “but as the watch was a present from a dear
friend, perhaps I should not give it away.” Jenny Lind, I am sure, never
forgot the pleasurable emotions of that day.
At Richmond, half an hour previous to her departure, hundreds of young
ladies and gentlemen had crowded into the halls of the house to secure a
glimpse of her at parting. I informed her that she would find difficulty
in passing out. “How long is it before we must start?” she asked. “Half
an hour,” I replied. “Oh, I will clear the passages before that time,”
said she, with a smile; whereupon she went into the upper hall, and
informed the people that she wished to take the hands of every one of
them, upon one condition, viz: they should pass by her in rotation, and
as fast as they had shaken hands, proceed down stairs, and not block up
the passages. They joyfully consented to the arrangement, and in fifteen
minutes the course was clear. Poor Jenny had shaken hands with every
person in the crowd, and I presume she had a feeling remembrance of the
incident for an hour or two at least. She was waited on by many members
of the Legislature while in Richmond, that body being in session while
we were there.
The voyage from Wilmington to Charleston was an exceedingly rough and
perilous one. We were about thirty-six hours in making the passage, the
usual time being seventeen. There was really great danger of our steamer
being swamped, and we were all apprehensive that we should never reach
the Port of Charleston alive. Some of the passengers were in great
terror. Jenny Lind exhibited more calmness upon this occasion than any
other person, the crew excepted. We arrived safely at last, and I was
grieved to learn that for twelve hours the loss of the steamer had been
considered certain, and had even been announced by telegraph in the
Northern cities.
We remained at Charleston about ten days, to take the steamer “Isabella”
on her regular trip to Havana. Jenny had been through so much excitement
at the North, that she determined to have quiet here, and therefore
declined receiving any calls. This disappointed many ladies and
gentlemen. One young lady, the daughter of a wealthy planter near
Augusta, was so determined upon seeing her in private, that she paid one
of the servants to allow her to put on a cap and white apron, and carry
in the tray for Jenny’s tea. I afterwards told Miss Lind of the joke,
and suggested that after such an evidence of admiration, she should
receive a call from the young lady.
“It is not admiration--it is only curiosity,” replied Jenny, “and I will
not encourage such folly.”
Christmas was at hand, and Jenny Lind determined to honor it in the way
she had often done in Sweden. She had a beautiful Christmas tree
privately prepared, and from its boughs depended a variety of presents
for members of the company. These gifts were encased in paper, with the
names of the recipients written on each.
After spending a pleasant evening in her drawing-room, she invited us
into the parlor, where the “surprise” awaited us. Each person commenced
opening the packages bearing his or her address, and although every
individual had one or more pretty presents, she had prepared a joke for
each. Mr. Benedict, for instance, took off wrapper after wrapper from
one of his packages, which at first was as large as his head, but after
having removed some forty coverings of paper, it was reduced to a size
smaller than his hand, and the removal of the last envelope exposed to
view a piece of cavendish tobacco. One of my presents, choicely wrapped
in a dozen coverings, was a jolly young Bacchus in Parian marble,
intended as a pleasant hit at my temperance principles!
The night before New Year’s day was spent in her apartment with great
hilarity. Enlivened by music, singing, dancing and story-telling, the
hours glided swiftly away. Miss Lind asked me if I would dance with her.
I told her my education had been neglected in that line, and that I had
never danced in my life, “That is all the better,” said she; “now dance
with me in a cotillion. I am sure you can do it.” She was a beautiful
dancer, and I never saw her laugh more heartily than she did at my
awkwardness. She said she would give me the credit of being the poorest
dancer she ever saw!
About a quarter before twelve, Jenny suddenly checked Mr.
Burke,--formerly celebrated as the musical prodigy, “Master Burke,”--who
was playing on the piano, by saying, “Pray let us have quiet; do you
see, in fifteen minutes more, this year will be gone forever!”
She immediately took a seat, and rested her head upon her hand in
silence. We all sat down, and for a quarter of an hour the most profound
quiet reigned in the apartment. The remainder of the scene I transcribe
from a description written the next day by Mrs. Lyman, who was present
on the occasion:
“The clock of a neighboring church struck the knell of the dying year.
All were silent--each heart was left to its own communings, and the
bowed head and tearful eye told that memory was busy with the Past. It
was a brief moment, but thoughts and feelings were crowded into it,
which render it one never to be forgotten. A moment more--the last
stroke of the clock had fallen upon the ear--the last faint vibration
ceased; another period of time had passed forever away--a new one had
dawned, in which each felt that they were to live and act. This thought
recalled them to a full consciousness of the present, and all arose and
quietly, but cordially, presented to each other the kind wishes of the
season. As the lovely hostess pressed the hands of her guests, it was
evident that she, too, had wept,--she, the gifted, the admired, the
almost idolized one. Had she, too, cause for tears? Whence were
they?--from the overflowings of a grateful heart, from tender
associations, or from sad remembrances? None knew, none could ask,
though they awakened deep and peculiar sympathy. And from one heart, at
least, arose the prayer, that when the dial of time should mark the last
hour of her earthly existence, she should greet its approach with joy
and not with grief--that to her soul spirit-voices might whisper, ‘Come,
sweet sister! come to the realms of unfading light and love--come, join
your seraphic tones with ours, in singing the praises of Him who loved
us, and gave himself for us’--while she, with meekly-folded hands and
faith-uplifted eye, should answer, ‘Yes, gladly and without fear I come,
for I know that my Redeemer liveth.’”
I had arranged with a man in New York to transport furniture to Havana,
provide a house, and board Jenny Lind and our immediate party during our
stay. When we arrived, we found the building converted into a
semi-hotel, and the apartments were any thing but comfortable. Jenny was
vexed. Soon after dinner, she took a volante and an interpreter, and
drove into the suburbs. She was absent four hours. Whither or why she
had gone, none of us knew. At length she returned and informed us that
she had hired a commodious furnished house in a delightful location
outside the walls of the city, and invited us all to go and live with
her during our stay in Havana, and we accepted the invitation. She was
now freed from all annoyances; her time was her own, she received no
calls, went and came when she pleased, had no meddlesome advisers about
her, legal or otherwise, and was as merry as a cricket. We had a large
court-yard in the rear of the house, and here she would come and romp
and run, sing and laugh, like a young school-girl. “Now, Mr. Barnum, for
another game of ball,” she would say half a dozen times a day;
whereupon, she would take an india-rubber ball, (of which she had two or
three,) and commence a game of throwing and catching, which would be
kept up until, being completely tired out, I would say, “I give it up.”
Then her rich, musical laugh would be heard ringing through the house,
as she exclaimed, “Oh, Mr. Barnum, you are too fat and too lazy; you
cannot stand it to play ball with me!”
Her celebrated countrywoman, Miss Frederika Bremer, spent a few days
with us very pleasantly, and it is difficult to conceive of a more
delightful month than was passed by the entire party at Jenny Lind’s
house in the outskirts of Havana.