Chapter III: The Début at the New Opera-House

Before narrating the events connected with Mademoiselle Lind’s first appearance at the Court Theatre at Berlin, it is desirable that we should say a few words in explanation of the more than ordinary interest attached to the re-opening of that splendid Opera-House, so famous in the history of Art and so closely interwoven with that of the Hohenzollern dynasty.

One of the first acts of King Frederick the Great, after his accession to the throne of Prussia, on the 30th of May, 1740, was the foundation of an Opera-House, designed on a scale sufficiently splendid to eclipse the glories of every other theatre in Europe.

The building was completed in the winter of the year 1742, and on the 7th of December its inauguration was celebrated with extraordinary pomp by a magnificent performance of Graun’s _Cesare & Cleopatra_, at which the King and all the Court were present. The fitness of the theatre for the high purpose for which it was designed was pronounced by those best able to form a judgment upon the subject to be perfect; and, fortunately for Art, the building stood almost intact for more than a hundred years. But a fate hangs over theatres which it seems impossible to evade. On the night between the 18th and 19th of August, 1843, it was burned to the ground, in the hundred and second year of its existence; and, following the example of his illustrious ancestor, King Frederick William IV. commanded its immediate reconstruction, almost exactly upon the lines of the original design.

The new theatre was completed towards the close of the year 1844, and opened in the presence of the Court on the evening of the 7th of December.

It was naturally to be expected that on an occasion so deeply interesting to the leading members of the House of Hohenzollern care would be taken to present a piece in harmony with the spirit of the festival. To this end Meyerbeer had been commanded, as we have already seen, to compose the music for an Opera the _libretto_ of which was founded upon an episode in the history of King Frederick the Great, and had arranged the meeting with Mdlle. Lind, in Dresden, for the purpose of accommodating the principal part to the style of her performance. The piece was to be called _Das Feldlager in Schlesien_,[37] and the _libretto_, carefully prepared by L. Rellstab, brought into prominence an incident in the history of that famous campaign in Silesia, through which the world first learned to appreciate at its just value the military genius of the redoubtable “Vater Fritz.” This piece was a good one, full of highly dramatic situations, though entirely free from violence or exaggeration. Meyerbeer’s music was of his best. Fired by the splendour of this opportunity, he had thrown his whole soul into the work, and it was in response to his desire that the principal _rôle_ should be performed by the most finished artist who could be persuaded to undertake it that Mademoiselle Lind had been invited to Berlin.

But the intrigues of the stage are inscrutable, and cannot be foreseen even by the most experienced directors. Meyerbeer’s cherished project was opposed by a local interest.

Fräulein Tuczec, who had for years sung at the theatre as _prima donna_, claimed the right of appearing in the principal part, on the re-opening of the house, on the ground that she, being a permanent member of the company, enjoyed privileges of which it would be unjust to deprive her in favour of a stranger engaged for “guest performances” only;[38] and for the perhaps still stronger reason that, when it had appeared doubtful whether Mademoiselle Lind, after having been recalled to Stockholm for the coronation of King Oscar, would arrive in Berlin in time to undertake the part, she herself had been requested to study it.

The case was not without its difficulties. On both sides there was a show of justice with respect to the conflicting claims; and, even while those claims were still in abeyance, a false account of the circumstances had already found its way into the newspapers. To correct this, Mademoiselle Lind wrote the following letter to her friend, M. Lars Hierta, at Stockholm:—

“Berlin, Nov. 25, 1844.

“Herr Königl. Secretär,

“Kindly excuse me if, for a few moments, I beg to encroach upon your
valuable time.

“Having seen, in an article in the ‘Aftonblad,’ reproduced from the
‘Frankfurter Ober-Postamt-Zeitung,’ that my friends in Stockholm are
incorrectly informed about my position in Berlin, I venture, Herr
Königlicher Secretär, to call your attention to the following lines.

“I came to Berlin under the impression that the principal _rôle_ in
the new Opera[39] had been assigned to no other than myself; but I
found that it was also given for study to Mademoiselle Tuczec, under
the apprehension that my detention in Sweden might otherwise have
rendered it necessary to delay the opening of the new Opera-House. On
my arrival in Berlin, however, Meyerbeer took it for granted that I,
for whom he had composed the part, should undertake to sing it at the
first representation. He therefore called upon Mademoiselle Tuczec,
and—perhaps with some temper—informed her that I had now arrived, that
the part was mine, and that it was consequently my duty to sing it for
the first time.

“Mademoiselle Tuczec, who is very nervous, was altogether beside
herself, and wrote a petition to the King begging His Majesty to
permit her to appear at the opening of the new theatre.

“When this came to my knowledge I was greatly surprised, for I had not
heard a single word of it, and did not even know that the _rôle_ had
been given to Mademoiselle Tuczec. And as I am not fond of strife, and
understand nothing whatever of intrigue, I ceded my place with
pleasure—the more willingly because I considered that Mademoiselle
Tuczec was right, since she had had the part for some time, and was,
moreover, a great favourite with the public here, while I am quite
unknown and a foreigner also.

“In addition to this there remains the question of the foreign
language. It surely would be very unfavourable for me, under these
circumstances, to make my first appearance in connection with dialogue
and melodrama!

“It is I, then, who have really arranged the whole matter, and
Mademoiselle Tuczec seems quite satisfied with me.

“I hope, Herr Königlicher Secretär, that you have been able to
understand my disjointed phrases, and that you will be good enough to
say a few words in my behalf in your paper in order that my friends in
Stockholm may be aware of the true state of the matter—and also of
this, that, though I am a poor sensitive lonely girl, in a foreign
land and surrounded by cabals and intrigues, I am none the less
possessed of a heart that beats high at the thought of Sweden, and am
consequently not always in a cheerful mood; and this I know, that the
pleasure I have been happy enough to give my countrymen—at times,
perhaps, when my mind was most oppressed—would be forgotten, beyond
all doubt, if at any moment I appeared here without success, even
though my talent remained undiminished. But rather than involve myself
in law-suits I would renounce everything; and as long as I have my two
hands to work with I would rather earn my bread, under such
circumstances, away from the stage.

“Begging you to convey my kind regards to your wife and the other
members of your family, I take the liberty of signing myself,

“Your obedient servant,
“JENNY LIND.”

As the reader will, no doubt, have already foreseen, Mdlle. Lind’s intervention on the side of simple justice produced a marked reaction in Fräulein Tuczec’s favour; and, to Meyerbeer’s intense disappointment, the part of “Vielka,” in the new Opera, was officially confided to the privileged _prima donna_.

The inauguration of the new Court Theatre was celebrated with the utmost possible splendour on the 7th of December, in presence of the Royal Family, the foreign ambassadors, and a brilliant gathering of all the rank and fashion of Berlin. The general success of the festival was, of course, assured beforehand; but though _Das Feldlager in Schlesien_ contained some of the best and most attractive music that Meyerbeer had as yet produced, it was evident that it failed to make the desired impression upon the public—for the simple reason that the principal _rôle_ was unsuited to the style of the performer who had undertaken to interpret it. It bristled with difficulties with which but very few of the best singers of the day would have been able to contend; and the music, expressly written for Mademoiselle Lind, had been so exactly adapted to the quality of her voice and the style of her execution, that it would necessarily have lost its greatest charm if it had been entrusted to any other singer than herself, however highly accomplished. As it was, the new piece could scarcely have been regarded as having fallen very much short of a failure; and Meyerbeer’s chagrin at the cold reception of his long-cherished work was very bitter indeed. It was an unfortunate mistake, and the more to be regretted because it placed a really clever singer and actress—which Mademoiselle Tuczec undoubtedly was—in a cruelly false position.

In the meanwhile, since Mdlle. Lind had been prevented, by untoward circumstances, from taking an active part in the festival with which the new Opera-House was inaugurated, there clearly remained no reason why she should not make her first appearance before a German audience in one of her own favourite parts; and she herself felt it to be eminently desirable that an Italian Opera should be selected for the occasion.

Her choice fell upon _Norma_, in which she had already achieved immense success, notwithstanding the well-known fact—or perhaps by reason of it— that her interpretation of the _rôle_ differed in every one of its most striking characteristics from that adopted by every _prima donna_ of note who had undertaken to impersonate the unhappy priestess from whom Bellini’s masterpiece takes its now familiar name. And, though Mdlle. Lind chose it for her _début_, without a thought of constructive rivalry, she really, by that bold and, as it turned out, most happy choice, unconsciously staked her reputation against that of every _prima donna_ who had charmed the public, from Madame Pasta, for whom the part was written, in 1832, to Madame Grisi, who was nightly playing it in London and in Paris in the self-same year 1844.

The _début_ was fixed for Sunday the 15th of December, and its success exceeded the warmest expectations of all concerned. The public was in raptures—the critics were disarmed. The heroines of the past and present were forgotten. The new reading of the part commended itself to all. Madame Pasta had rendered it with a noble energy, a fiery power, worthy of high admiration, though, it must be confessed, more remarkable for its vigour than its womanly tenderness. Madame Grisi, inheriting the _rôle_ directly from her great predecessor, in company with whom she had, in the original cast, played the secondary part of _Adalgisa_— Madame Grisi, with even less of tenderness and more exaggerated energy, delineated a Pythoness, with whom a Gallic barbarian might very possibly have fallen in love. But _Pollio_ was not “a Gallic barbarian.” He was a true Roman, voluptuous, inconstant, ready to sink weakly into the arms of a new mistress without a thought of remorse, when his passion for his first _inamorata_ began to cool, but incapable of yielding to the violence of a Mænad. He might perhaps have fallen in love with Madame Pasta’s _Norma_, but not with Madame Grisi’s.

Upon these two primary interpretations of the part all later ones were based, until, for the first time in its history, Mdlle. Lind presented the impassioned Druidess before the world in the character of a true woman. The critics of Berlin, familiar with every tradition of the Stage, accepted the new ideal as the highest impersonation of the character of _Norma_ that had as yet been presented to the public. One of them,[40] writing in the leading journal of the day, gives us the following account of the impression it made upon him, both from a musical and a dramatic point of view. After some preliminary remarks of no general interest, he begins his critique proper with a description of the artist herself:—

“Her voice,” he says, “not without fulness, but more pleasing than
powerful, moves with charming lightness and certainty; though the
middle register is sometimes shaded by a soft veil which serves to
bring out the upper notes in clearest and most silvery contrast. This
beautiful natural gift is supplemented by a groundwork of most
diligent study. Her pronunciation—though the German language is not
familiar to her—is pleasing, clear, and distinct. She possesses that
sustaining-power of tone which in the best Italian school lends so
peculiarly tender a colour to Recitative. But the high cultivation of
her style most strikingly manifests itself in the clearness and pearly
evenness of her passages. We have heard such passages sung with
greater rapidity, but never with greater perfection.

“So much for the Singer.

“And the Actress—especially in the elasticity of her motions—is of
fully equal excellence.

“All her movements have a womanly charm, which gives a beautiful
expression to her voice, while, at the same time, it shows no lack of
character, or energy, or majesty.

“One might not unnaturally suppose, from these general features in the
portrait of our artist, that _Norma_, at least, ruled by demons of
darkness, would give her some trouble. But it is exactly here that her
conception reconciles us with this fearful character. She bases it
throughout upon the element of love, that one day changes this proud
priestess into a humble slave. Pasta presents a “Norma” _before_ whom,
our artist a “Norma” _with_ whom, we tremble. The art of the one is
broader, more astonishing; that of the other more sweet and
enthralling. Upon these essential peculiarities the part depends for
its culminating point of interest.

“Until now no singer has ever sung the Cavatina, _Casta Diva_, as we
think it ought to be sung. She clothes the melody in that pale
romantic moonlight under the influence of which it was conceived, and
she knows so well how to sustain this colouring throughout the
difficulties of the mechanical passages—that the highest triumph of
her thrilling delivery is achieved in the clear execution of the
chromatic runs. The singer here obtained a mark of recognition which
has never before been witnessed within the experience of any of us—the
air was encored, and the artist called forward in the middle of the
act!

“The summons of the singer before the curtain after the first act and
at the close of the performance is a theatrical accessory which speaks
for itself. Among the public there was not one single dissentient
voice: its verdict truly represented the expression of its thanks for
the gift received.”

Warm as is this eulogium, those who are fortunate enough to remember Mdlle. Lind’s impersonation of the part of “Norma” will confess that it is in no degree exaggerated. “Norma” was certainly one of her most perfect creations, comparable only to her interpretation of the _rôles_ of “Alice” in _Robert le Diable_ and “Amina” in _La Sonnambula_. Even in the masterpieces of Mozart, her vocal powers were scarcely displayed to greater advantage, and as an actress she could not have won higher and purer praise, even in a classical tragedy.

From the moment of this first performance, the reputation she had already attained, in Stockholm, was more than confirmed, and her position in Berlin assured. She appeared in _Norma_ for the second and third times with equal success. Then followed a few days of retirement from the turmoil of actual publicity, concerning the employment of which we are furnished with an interesting account from a sympathetic pen.

On the 23rd of December her young friend, Herr Josephson, arrived in Berlin on an invitation to spend Christmas with her. After meeting her at Madame Reyer’s he writes in his Diary:—

“I have spent a merry Swedish Christmas Eve with Jenny and the Reyers.
The Baroness Ridderstolpe was there, and some Swedish ladies who were
here on a visit had been assisting our hostess to arrange everything
in true Swedish fashion. Amidst joyful friendly faces, cheering and
beautiful gifts, and a profusion of lights, a harmonious tone pervaded
the whole, despite a few passing clouds over the sky of the Swedes
when thinking of the dear ones left behind. If we were to be so far
away from home we could not wish for anything better or happier!”

The homely little Swedish festival recalls a similar one which took place in Paris in 1841, at the house of Mdlle. du Puget.

But how different the circumstances. Then Mdlle. Lind was labouring to acquire the technical knowledge and power of execution, with which she hoped one day to accomplish something worthy of the high mission which in her heart of hearts she felt certain had been committed to her. Now she had accomplished it. There was hard work before her, it is true; and it was not her wont to neglect anything that she believed to be her duty. Still, it was familiar work, and there could be no reasonable doubt as to its results.