Chapter VII: At Home Once More

On Thursday, March 13, 1845, as we have already heard, Mdlle. Lind’s last notes died softly away in Berlin at a concert given for the benefit of the “Hospital for Blind Soldiers.”

On Wednesday, March 19, she made her first appearance at the Court Theatre at Hanover in her favourite character of “Norma.”

We do not propose, during the rapid transitions from city to city upon which we are now entering, to dilate in detail upon performances which have already been sufficiently criticised at Berlin. It will suffice therefore for the present if we say that the now famous songstress was received by the public with enthusiastic plaudits, and at Court with a kindly consideration which, during the reign of the succeeding King and Queen, ripened into undisguised attachment on both sides. From first to last, her visits to the Hanoverian Court were always pleasant ones, and she always spoke of them with affectionate remembrance.

On leaving Hanover, she proceeded at once to Hamburg, where, on March 29, she made her first appearance at the Stadt Theater, in the Opera in which she had already won so many well-earned laurels for Bellini as well as for herself.

During this visit she sang in _Norma_ five times, including her own benefit, on Tuesday, May 6; five times in _La Sonnambula_; twice in _Lucia di Lammermoor_ (for the first time in Germany); and once (also for the first time out of Stockholm) in _Der Freischütz_.

She also assisted on April 14 at a concert in Altona, at which she sang the _aria_ from Pacini’s _Niobe_, in which she had created a profound sensation in Berlin, and her own favourite Swedish melodies. On April 21 she sang the same pieces at a concert given by Herr Kapellmeister Krebs— the father of the celebrated pianiste, Fräulein Marie Krebs. On the 25th she sang at the Court Theatre of Schwerin, in _Norma_, followed by _La Sonnambula_ on the 28th, after which she immediately resumed her duties in Hamburg, as above described, concluding with the “benefit” on May 6. And, after this last performance, a serenade was sung to her, in front of her hotel—the old “Stadt London”—accompanied by a torch-light procession, a display of fireworks on the Alster, and other demonstrations, which lasted until long past midnight, and converted the ovation into quite a popular festival.

And now, after the anxieties and fatigues of this most trying season— trying and fatiguing in direct proportion to its success—came the moment of its rich reward.

On the doors of the Royal Theatre at Stockholm was affixed a play-bill announcing that Mdlle. Lind would reappear in her native town on May 16, in _Norma_.

It needs but little effort of the imagination to picture the joy with which the lonely exile—for lonely she had been, even amidst the glories of her most splendid triumphs; lonely, while critics, finding conventional terms too weak to express their admiration, were exhausting the hendecasyllabic licence of German idiom in the fabrication of new ones; lonely, while she stood upon the carpet of flowers in Hamburg; lonely, beyond all loneliness, even in company of the devoted friends whose affection she returned with tenfold warmth—it needs, we say, but little effort to imagine the joy with which this lonely exile prepared to stand once more upon the boards of the theatre in which she had sung and acted as a child, to sing and act, in presence of a Swedish audience, in that same part of “Norma” which she had already impersonated upon those very boards no less than thirty times, and in which she had in the meantime excited the wonder and admiration of the most critically exacting nation in Europe.

Such joy as that is not to be described in words, and we must perforce leave it to the reader’s imagination to paint the pleasant picture— bearing in mind, however, that it was distinctly a double one. The Swedes were as glad to welcome home their great national artist as she was to return to them—as proud of her as she was of her country. And not without good cause! She had left Stockholm, the idol of Sweden; she returned to it, the idol of northern Europe. This great fact, which might have been anticipated from very early times, was made more and more clearly apparent, as each successive capital expressed its opinion; and, by the time of which we are now treating, there could be no reasonable doubt as to its ultimate acceptation. The Swedes did not doubt it, at any rate; and all Stockholm went forth to greet the national heroine, with songs of joy and gladness.

“Jenny Lind’s return to Sweden caused general delight and jubilation,”
says Fröken Marie von Stedingk, “and the first reception was a very
cordial one. The steamboat, with the celebrated artist on board—our
‘Northern Nightingale’—did not arrive until midnight; but,
notwithstanding this, the port and neighbouring streets were so packed
that I could only with difficulty find a tiny corner for myself and
maid on a ship close by.

“A rocket gave the signal for the liveliest shouts of delight, and a
boat went out to meet the steamship with the most beautiful music on
board.

“When the crowd began to disperse I was able to get home safely, but
without having caught so much as a glimpse of Jenny Lind, who probably
went straight to her home as quickly as possible. Her stay at Berlin,
and her progress through Germany, had been a long succession of
triumphs, and her modesty and great eminence combined had won friends
for her everywhere.”

It was the old, old story. Wildest excitement on the one side—feverish yearning for retirement on the other. It was the quiet of home that the wanderer longed for—not the shouts of the admiring multitude.

During the course of this short visit to Stockholm, she sang eighteen times: twice in _Norma_, twice in _Der Freischütz_, three times in _La Sonnambula_, twice in _Lucia di Lammermoor_, once in Rossini’s _Il Turco in Italia_, and eight times in Donizetti’s _La Figlia del Reggimento_.

One circumstance connected with the last-named Opera, in which she appeared for the first time on June 9, we must not omit to notice, though its interest is entirely centred in Stockholm.

The reader will not have forgotten the “historic fanfare” mentioned in our account of the little Jenny’s childhood, how delighted she had been when she heard the soldiers playing it in the street, or how cleverly she had afterwards imitated it on the little old family pianoforte. Military music had always delighted her, and the sight of a regiment of soldiers gave her scarcely less pleasure in after life than it had done in her infancy. _La Figlia del Reggimento_ had therefore a special charm for her, quite apart from its claim for consideration as a work of Art, and she threw so much spirit into her interpretation of the part of the little _vivandière_ that the Swedish soldiers were wild with enthusiasm about it. In a letter to Madame Birch-Pfeiffer, dated “Stockholm, June 26, 1845,” she describes her eighth and last performance of the part, on the previous evening, as a veritable military triumph:—

“I am free,” she says, “and I mean to rest myself right well.

“Yesterday, the performance of _Die Tochter des Regiments_ was given
entirely for officers and soldiers. The King had invited them all, and
I was never so much amused in my life. All was cheerful and
good-humoured. The soldiers laughed awfully, and applauded me so
furiously that I really felt quite sorry for their hands. All was
enthusiasm, and it all looked splendid. The whole house was filled
with uniforms. It was beautiful indeed!

“This evening I am going to sup with my beloved widowed Queen—to my
unspeakable pleasure, for she is so very gracious to me.”

Yes, “beautiful indeed!” The mischievous little _vivandière_ was evidently as much delighted with the gallant warriors who applauded her so furiously as they were with her. What a treat the performance must have been! and how the King must have enjoyed it!

It was a happy time, and the return to home-life and home-scenery inexpressibly refreshing. The first part of the visit was indeed too much occupied with professional engagements to deserve the character of a holiday; but after the performances at the Opera were over she spent a few weeks in pleasant retirement at the country-home of her friends, Herr and Madame von Koch, of whom mention has already been made in previous chapters. The eventful episode was however broken in upon, for the second time within the space of little more twelve months, by a Royal summons—this time requiring her presence at the Court of Prussia.

King Frederick William IV. was preparing to entertain Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort, first at Brühl, and afterwards at Schloss Stolzenfels, the restored castle on the banks of the Rhine; and it was his wish that Mdlle. Lind should add to the interest of the festivities by singing to his Royal guests.

When the time of departure drew near she received some touching marks of affection and esteem.

“The Queen Dowager,” says Fröken Marie von Stedingk, “was exceedingly
friendly to her, and gave a little _soirée_ to which the Royal Family
alone were invited, and at which Jenny sang some operatic airs
splendidly to a pianoforte accompaniment. I prefer, however, to hear
her on the stage.

“Before going to the Queen Dowager she came to tea with me, in company
with the two maids of honour, Lotten Mörner and Lotten Skjöldebrand;
and we spent together an hour that seemed too short to all of us.

“After this I went to see her several times; my last visit being paid
for the purpose of taking her a bracelet sent by the Queen Dowager.”