Chapter III: Pupilage

The Royal Theatre, at Stockholm, into which Jenny Lind passed in the September of 1830, was to be, for the next ten years, the scene and centre of her life. In it she found a nursery for her child-talent; a school to direct her entire development; a playground in which she tasted the delights of companionship; a home, which watched over her with fatherly interest and authority; a stage on which she was greeted with unstinted appreciation. It became, for this spell of years, the pivot of all her efforts, the focus of all her associations and hopes, the environment within which all her gifts opened and discovered themselves.

The theatre was subsidised from the Royal Civil List, and was directed and controlled by the office of the Lord Chamberlain. Its chief officer was a Royal Director (Intendant), under whom, among other officials, was the Chief of the Singing Department. The first office was occupied, at the time of Jenny’s entry, by Count Puke; while the second was filled by Herr Croelius, who was dignified with the title of Court Secretary. The official finances came under the supervision of Herr Forsberg, an official in the War Office, who was charged with the honorary superintendence of the Theatre-School. He took an almost fatherly interest in Jenny Lind; and she retained an intimate and affectionate friendship with his family, until her death.

The theatre stands in the heart of Stockholm, close to the Norrbro (North Bridge), overlooking the wide basin of the Norrström: it is a large, handsome building, facing the street known as the Gustaf Adolf’s Torg, with its basement and double stories, on the second of which, in fine and airy rooms, was housed the School of Girls attached to the theatre, into which Jenny was now introduced, herself the very youngest of all, as we may gather from Count Puke’s complaint that Croelius was treating the theatre as if “it were a _crèche_.”

The “Directors of the Royal Theatre,” as its authorities were called, were in the habit of boarding out the pupils at some certified home, or homes, in the town, under the charge of some lady with whom the theatre made terms for food, lodging, and educational supervision. And, here, we come to a rather curious arrangement, which might, if it had been happily carried out, have combined, most fortunately, Jenny’s new conditions with her natural home-relations. Her mother had moved back to Stockholm just before Jenny’s entry at the theatre: she had taken, in the spring of 1830, a flat in No. 4 Quarteret Hammaren, in the Jakobsbergsgata. Had she taken it for the very purpose of boarding the pupils of the theatre? It is impossible to say: but, certainly, this parish of St. Jacob is close at hand; and, very soon after her return, she appears to have been intrusted by the Directors with some of their boarders; and, among them, probably, her own little daughter. Indeed, this is made almost certain by the fact that Jenny’s very earliest recollection of the Theatre-School, as she often told her daughter, was her running to the school, to keep herself warm, in the cold winter mornings, dressed in the vivid smart colours, which her mother and half-sister loved, and which she so hated that she used to pull the bright feathers out of her bonnet as soon as she was out of sight of home. At last, in 1833, the affair took shape in a legal contract, drawn up between the “Directors” and Jenny’s mother. The conditions of the bond are most precise. They begin by stating that they have, already, since April, 1832, been paying for[4] “Jenny Lind’s board and education,” and that, through the progress she has made since then, they have “formed the best hopes of her usefulness for the theatrical profession,” and that they “desire to attach this young talent, by more definite conditions, to the Royal Theatre.” They wish, therefore, to close a contract with her mother, with the terms of which, as they carefully insert, “Jenny Lind has declared herself satisfied.” The child is to be received in the capacity of “actress-pupil at the Royal Theatre”; and cannot, without the consent of the Directors, be released from her engagement until she have, through her after-efforts, “made restitution for the care and expense bestowed on her education.”

“During her growing years, and until she is competent to be allotted a fixed salary, she is to receive, at the expense of the theatre, food, clothes, and lodging, together with free tuition in singing, elocution, dancing, and such other branches of instruction as belong to the education of a cultivated woman, and are requisite for the theatrical profession.” The carrying out of this instruction is then committed to her mother, who engages to teach her “the Piano, Religion, French, History, Geography, Writing, Arithmetic, and Drawing.” She is also to see to all matters of “food, fire, furniture, and clothing, bedding and washing”; and to have for her a tender mother’s care.

For these purposes she will receive from the Directors 250 Riksdaler Banco (_i.e._ 20 guineas), while Jenny herself will be given two Riksdaler Banco every month for pocket-money, out of which she is to pay (poor child!) for her own needles and tape as well as for silk and cotton towards the mending of her clothes; this will leave not very much over for Jenny’s private purposes; but on the other hand she is to be allowed the use of a pianoforte belonging to the Royal Theatre; and moreover, after the 1st July, 1835, she will actually be supplied with a chest of drawers, as well as bedstead and bedclothes, at the special cost of the Royal Theatre. Her mother is to see to it that the little pupil carefully observes the hours for lessons, rehearsals, and representations. The Royal Directors are to judge when the tiny creature will become competent to enter as actress with a salary from the Civil List, after which a new contract will be made, by which she will be pledged to remain for ten years in the service of the Royal Theatre for such a salary as the Directors, having proper regard to her talent and usefulness at the time, shall decide to grant her; but, in case “the aktris-elev Lind, contrary to the good hopes entertained on her behalf, were for one reason or another to prove of no use to the Royal Theatre, or, again, if she were to fail in that obedience she owes to the Royal Directors, it shall have full right to discharge her from the theatre after three months’ notice, in which case the contract is to lapse.”

So runs the deed, signed, on behalf of the Directors, by P. Westerstrand, who had succeeded Count Puke as Intendant, and by Carl D. Forsberg, of the War Office; and, below their signatures, Jenny’s mother declares herself to be satisfied with the proposed conditions.

The bond is impressive, first in requiring the “full education of a cultivated woman.” There, in that phrase, is a distinct ideal. It implies that the drama is no narrow, specialised function of a mere expert; but is an affair in which the entire mind and character of the artist are concerned, so that the theatre itself may well spend its money in securing, not only the technical and professional training, but also that the pupil shall have the intelligence developed and fertilised, so that it be level with the average culture of the time.

And then, again, the completeness of the more professional instruction is well worth notice. Elocution, dancing, the piano—all are necessary to perfect the dramatic singing. The memory of this completeness in her early theatrical education left an indelible impression on Jenny Lind. She felt that she owed to it so much that contributed to, and enriched, the full effect of her musical gift; and especially she valued her trained skill in expressive and beautiful motion, gained in the dancing school at the Theatre Royal. She moved exquisitely. Her perfect walk, her dignity of pose, her striking uprightness of attitude, were characteristic of her to the very last; and no one can fail to recall how she stood, before, and while, she sang. Her grace, her lightness of movement were all the more noticeable from the rather angular thinness of her natural figure; and there can be no doubt that they threw into her acting a charm which was positively entrancing.

To what degree the full education of a cultivated woman was actually attained in her case, it would be hard to exactly define. A great musical gift like hers carries culture with it; and, then, she had, all her after-life, revelled in the society of the most cultivated men in Europe. So that it is difficult, from knowledge of her in later days, to say how much she had gained out of the formal instructions given her in childhood. But, naturally, these can only have been of an elementary and superficial type.

Nevertheless, the list of general studies named by the Directors was not merely nominal; pains were taken; the instruction was given. Religion, in spite of the hostile proximity of French on the one side, and of the piano on the other, was carefully attended to; and her Confirmation certificate, given her on May 10th, 1836, witnesses, by the hand of the rector of St. Jacob’s parish, Herr Abraham Pettersson, that she passed the public examination in the Christian doctrine of salvation “_with distinction_.”

For French, she went, probably, to the classes of M. Terrade, teacher to the Royal Theatre; the instruction was slight, but a certain degree of conversational French was in free use in Stockholm at the time, and would be habitual round about the theatre. Still, before her visit to Paris in 1841, she thought it necessary to take special lessons; and she had, when there, as we shall see, to grind at the grammar; so that her early knowledge must have been quite unscientific.

As to the piano, she, certainly, gained, at some time in her early life, a complete mastery over it, which stood her in good stead, and afforded her great enjoyment in later years. It was true that she had injured her left hand, when young, while striking fire with a flint on tinder, which to a certain extent crippled its full use; and, besides, she feared to fatigue and contract the vocal organs by serious practice on the piano. But, in spite of this, she handled it freely, and finely; she delighted to improvise on it, which she did with a touch of genuine genius; and part of the peculiar charm of her northern songs, as she sang them, came to them from her delicious playing of the accompaniment. There seems to be no doubt that, from quite early days, and more especially at about the age of sixteen, she could use it with easy familiarity; for, while still at this school, she used to “coach” the other girls through the musical parts of the plays, beating them out, herself, on the piano.

She had an eager and intense appreciation of her native literature; but, no doubt, this would be largely due to the influence of the Stockholm literary world, into which she was heartily welcomed at the time of her first triumphs.

A specimen of her drawing still remains—some painted flowers, done in the exact and formal manner of the day, but bearing sufficient witness to her having had the regular lessons; and those, probably, from her mother, who has left designs of the same type.

One accomplishment must be mentioned with special honour, her sewing. She worked magnificently. “Madame’s stitches never come out,” is the later testimony from her maid to her powers. And she loved to do a piece of work, designing it herself, and achieving it, with the thoroughness of an expert.

German, which, afterwards, she loved, and pronounced beautifully, she did not begin until after her twenty-fourth year.

English was only slowly won, after her English visits. Her usual speech in this country at that time was French.

So much for her general education and accomplishments; but we have been anticipating the course of our story, to which we now return.

The little girl, then, started in the spring of 1833, with what might well seem good hopes. Her career had taken a definite shape; she was provided for, if nothing went wrong, for years to come; she was to receive a regular education; and a future position was assured to her. In the meantime she was to be housed, and cared for, by her own mother, in the happy companionship of other girls.

Mdlle. Bayard, the lady superintendent of the school, was a person much respected; and the pupils were sure of enjoying care and attention from her. Jenny seems to have been exceedingly happy both with her, and with the other girls; but, alas! her trouble came from where we might least expect it—from her mother. Was it that her strong and resolute nature had been warped by early disappointment?—that the early marriage with Captain Rådberg at eighteen, with its rapid disillusion, had left serious damage behind it on temper, and character? Certainly, the world had gone hard with her. She had had to fight her way along for herself, under the burden of straitened circumstances. And she was somewhat proud, and stubborn, and self-willed. She, probably, fretted at the sense of being below the conditions which her burgher blood might expect and justify. From passages in her letters, we shall see, that she was quick to resent a slight, and hard to pacify. Altogether, from her recorded words and expressions, we can feel that she was one for whom things would not run smoothly. She was apt to show herself cross-grained, violent, harsh; and this not only to others, but also to her child.

Before going on to tell the pitiful story of this early harshness, it may be well to remember that the daughter’s memory of her mother was not all dismal and unkind. Their characters had, probably, many elements in common; her mother’s force, her mother’s haughty persistence reappeared, to some extent, in Jenny Lind. She, too, was not apt to take life too easily. And, again, she warmly recognised all that she owed, at this early time, to her mother’s talents, and resolution, and effort. There was, below all the divergence, a strong tie of underlying attachment. The actual intercourse was, indeed, unhappy; it was marred by cruelty, and narrowness, and suspicion, which left a life-long shadow on the child. But it was not without something in it, which would, under brighter circumstances, open out into the tenderness and gentleness which belong to the name of mother, when once the early hardships were passed.

But it is these bad days of which we have now to speak. It appears that the pupils found the treatment they received from her too stern and hard; and they were soon removed to rooms at the top of the theatre itself; and placed under the charge of Mdlle. Bayard. Here they fared excellently; and were extremely happy. Jenny, who remained at her mother’s, used to visit them there; and it was now that she struck up her intimate friendship with one of the pupils, Mina Fundin, who became her favourite playmate, and with whom she kept up, for life, an affectionate relationship. This lady is still alive, residing in Stockholm. It would seem that the contrast between the lonely severity of the home and the lively society of the theatre-rooms was too much for Jenny; and, at last, after some bout of harsh treatment, on the 30th of October, 1834, she took matters into her own hands, and ran off to Mdlle. Bayard. The Directors saw the merit of the proceeding, and allowed her to remain there. But her mother was not a person to acquiesce in such an arrangement, and the result was a long dispute with the theatre for the recovery of the child. It can serve no good purpose, now, to follow the track of this unhappy wrangle. It is enough to say that the mother was not content, until she had applied the pressure of the law against the Directors; that, at first, she only rested her appeal on the bond with the theatre, and that, when this failed, in January, 1835, she set to work with a more determined effort. Mr. Lind, who had, hitherto, kept in the background, was called to the front to take part in the struggle; and, together, they combined to make good their full parental claims over their child. Such a claim, once formally established, and put in force, was, necessarily, irresistible; and the theatre was obliged to surrender Jenny, by a final judgment of the Royal Upper Town-Court, on the 23rd of June, 1836; and was, also, directed to recognise the existing contract of 1833 as still standing, and to pay, therefore, to the parents the stipulated sum for Jenny’s keep, which was owing from January 1st, 1835, to April 1st, 1836, together with lawyer’s fee, etc. There the quarrel ended; on June 6th the theatre notified to the parents that Jenny would return to their house on July 1st, to be boarded at the old terms; and both Mr. Lind, and his wife, countersigned the notice.

It is pleasant to think that, in spite of these most uncomfortable proceedings, the little creature over whose person home and theatre were fighting so strenuously was spending a most happy time at Mdlle. Bayard’s; and it is delightful to read the brimming letter which she wrote, in the very thick of the wrangle, in August 1835—the very first word that we actually possess from her pen. It is written from Skytteholm, a place lying on one of the inland lakes which, in Sweden, are called by the pleasant name of “Sweet-Waters,” where the pupils were taken for their summer holidays. It is addressed to the mother of her little playfellow, Mina Fundin—the Mina mentioned in the letter, who has made such desperate resolutions from which she is only saved by the state of her nerves and the motherliness of the “sensible old woman.” With Mina’s mother, Jenny is evidently on the brightest and most affectionate terms. Here is the letter:—

“Skytteholm, 5 Aug., 1835.

“MY DEAR LITTLE AUNTY,

“Pardon me for taking the liberty to write to you—but—I really
don’t know what to write about! Yes, I know! I hope that my little
Aunty and Lotta are quite well;—_we_ are flourishing, all of us!

“Ah! thank God! soon we return to town; I long dreadfully, for now
there is no more fun down here. You must not feel uneasy, Aunty, about
Mina going to drown herself, for she has not yet done so, because she
is too nervous even to go near the water—Oh, yes!—_occasionally_ she
does run the risk of it, but _I_ will look after her—_I_, who am a
sensible, old woman.

“We eat fruit in such quantities that sometimes we are not able to
walk, but we can’t get so very much, for the simple reason that there
are so few ripe ones; we only eat currants, and those are most
wholesome, aren’t they?

“Adieu, kind little Aunty! Do not mind my having written so badly, I
shall write better another time. I venture to enclose myself in
Aunty’s friendship.

“Yours truly obliged,
“JENNY LIND.”

“Oh! how beautifully written!”

The applause of the last phrase refers to the signature, which is written with a vigorous flourish. The tone of the letter is delicious,— simple, gay, and tender. They must have been bright days out of which such words came; and it must be confessed, we fear, that some of the brightness was probably left behind her, on the day when she returned to her own mother’s house on the 1st of July. The nature of the return, to begin with, was not likely to be very auspicious; and, then, there was the partial loss of her merry companions. However, we hear of nothing to show that things did not go smoothly.

And, in the meantime, too, success is coming, and continually growing, to enliven, and enhearten the days. Whatever the struggle, and trouble, that her life brought in it, certainly of one grief, which is apt to darken the days of young artists, she was absolutely free. She was never troubled by a lack of recognition. From her earliest childhood, her gifts were felt to be surpassing; and this feeling never flagged. From the beginning of her dramatic career to its close, it is one unbroken triumph; and she had this singular good fortune of finding her way to the exercise of her gifts, before a sympathetic public, as soon as she had them to exercise. We shall see, in the next chapter, the way in which this happened, and the direction which her success took. We shall see that this risk on her behalf, which the Theatre Royal ran, and to which we have ventured to give cordial praise, was one which justified itself, by practical results, almost as soon as it had been run. The theatre had hardly sown before it found itself reaping. The child, whom Count Puke thought more of an age for a _crèche_ than a Royal Theatre, was already, before she was in her teens, bringing grist to the Royal mill.