Chapter VIII: By Command of the Queen

The clause in the Lumley contract which prevented Mdlle. Lind from taking part in any public concerts, during the London season, proved to be a very fortunate one; and the effect of Mendelssohn’s remonstrance, and the explanation which followed, gave unalloyed satisfaction, in the end, to all concerned.

To have added to the fatigue and excitement of the Opera season, even by an occasional concert, would have been in the highest degree imprudent, had an occasional concert been possible. But it was not. In the then excited state of public feeling, a share in the programme of one single concert would have raised a clamour for concerts everywhere; for engagements of one kind or another for every day in the week; demands which it would have been impossible to meet, and the refusal of which would have led to infinite dissatisfaction and annoyance.

Happily, all this turmoil was saved, by the exhaustive ventilation of the question which had already taken place, and its consequent settlement before the season began. It was well known that all public concerts were prohibited, by a stipulation duly signed, sealed, and delivered, in the engagement at the Opera.

But Mendelssohn’s prudence had overcome another, and a more serious phase of the difficulty, which, though it would beyond all doubt have been removed, when the season for its consideration arrived, was far better settled in advance. He had suggested, in his letter of October 31, 1846, that the prohibitive clause should not be understood to extend to concerts given by the Queen’s command. Mr. Lumley had naturally agreed to this, as a matter of course; and, between the 28th of May, and the 9th of August, Mdlle. Lind sang twice, by command of Her Majesty, at Buckingham Palace, and once at Osborne; besides taking part in a concert given by Queen Adelaide, at Marlborough House, at which Her Majesty and the Prince Consort were present.

At Buckingham Palace on the 28th of May Mdlle. Lind sang two of those Swedish songs in which she was unrivalled, accompanying herself upon the piano. They were new to her Royal audience, and by the spirit which spoke through the exquisite softness and finish of the execution, they went, there as well as elsewhere, home to every heart. The depth of the impression she produced was shown by the profound silence while she sang, a silence not accorded to the other singers, talented though they were, and by the murmur of applause which followed, when she ceased.

Twelve days later, she sang at Marlborough House, at a concert given by the Queen Dowager, at which the Queen and Prince Consort were present. It was given in the Hall, in which her voice was heard to great advantage. Here, as at the previous concert, Her Majesty conversed with Mdlle. Lind for some time, and spoke with great warmth both of her singing and her acting. Of Lablache, Mdlle. Lind spoke to the Queen in the warmest terms. “_Er ist_,” she said, “_wie ein Vater für uns alle_.”

Again on the last day of June she had the honour of singing before Her Majesty and the Prince at Buckingham Palace. On this occasion the purity, the sweetness and softness of her voice were much dwelt upon by the Queen, as well as the charming and unpretending grace of her manners. Nor did the remarkable delicacy and expressiveness of her touch on the piano escape notice. King Leopold and his Queen were present, and shared in the fascination which the artist and the woman seem to have excited in the Royal circle. King Leopold told her, she must not act with too much feeling, lest she should over-fatigue herself. To this she replied, “_Ich kann nicht anders thun als ich fühle_.” On the same evening she said in reply to a hope expressed by Her Majesty, that she would see her next year, “_Ich will die Bühne verlassen_”—what she desired being, to go and work “_für die Wohlthätigkeit_,” as “_une grande carrière_” had no interest for her.

On the 9th of August, along with Signor Lablache, Mdlle. Lind was invited to sing before the Queen and Prince Consort at Osborne. On this occasion she sang several Swedish songs; four songs by Mendelssohn, ‘_Ueber die Berge_,’ ‘_Frühlingslied_,’ ‘_Auf Wiedersehen_,’ and ‘_Sonntagslied_,’ and with Lablache two duets from _Le Nozze di Figaro_. Mdlle. Lind had always refused to take money for singing at the Royal concerts. She was greatly moved when the Queen, calling her aside, presented her with a bracelet, saying, as she did so, “I must again express not only my admiration but my respect for you,” words more precious far to her than the costliest present. In the course of the conversation that ensued she again expressed her intention of quitting the stage; but, in answer to Her Majesty’s expression of regret at the loss this would be to art, she replied that she would certainly come back again to England, whether she carried her intention into execution or not.[98]

It is known to everybody; and we need not, therefore, fear to be accused of anticipating later events by alluding to the circumstance here; that, however brilliant her triumphs on the stage may have been—and they were certainly as brilliant in England as at Berlin, or Vienna, if not even more so—they did not represent the whole of her Art-life. However high may have been the level to which she raised the ideal perfection of dramatic singing—of that union of the most exquisite vocal _technique_ with the most finished expression of dramatic truth, which, bearing ever in mind the necessary correlation of the twin Arts to one another, embodied the truest and the most exalted conception of the mission of the Opera that has ever yet been formed—however great may have been the work she accomplished in this particular field—it was not here that she won the _heart_ of all England. It is quite true that Her Majesty’s Theatre was crowded night after night. Delicate ladies fought for their places; and frenzied gentlemen pushed in front of them, touching the very verge of loyalty and duty, in their eagerness to secure for themselves the good position they ought to have offered to the ladies who were as anxious to obtain it as themselves. The enthusiasm manifested on the night of the _début_ was, certainly, no ephemeral manifestation of spasmodic excitement, for it continued to the end of the season. The admiration for the artist, the respect for the pure and holy life she was known to be living, the reverence for her as a true and noble-hearted woman, all these were won for her, on the night of her first appearance before an English audience—and she never lost them, till the day of her death. But, the LOVE that made the name of Jenny Lind a “household word” in every English homestead, by every English hearth, in every dwelling in which the English language was spoken—the long-enduring LOVE was won at the concert-room, and at the Oratorio. Not even ‘_Ah non credea_,’ or ‘_Deh vieni non tardar_,’ commanded, on the stage, the depth of affection that was yielded, in an instant, to the ‘Swedish Songs,’ in the concert-room, or the still deeper feeling born of ‘_I know that my Redeemer liveth_,’ and ‘_Holy, Holy, Holy_,’ in the Cathedral. It was through _Elijah_ and _Messiah_, through the _Lieder_ of Mendelssohn and Lindblad, and the _Swedish Melodies_, and the thousand treasures that appeared, later on, in the concert programmes— that the beloved “Swedish Nightingale” sang her way into the great heart of the British people; and it is therefore of peculiar interest that it should be through the warm and glowing words of our Queen that we now hear of the first concert at which she ever sang in the country in which she was afterwards naturalised.

Truly, the privilege that has been so graciously accorded to us—and without which this chapter in the life of the subject of the present Memoir could never have been adequately written—is one for which the most grateful thanks we can offer fall equally short of our duty, our loyalty, and our heartfelt desire.