Chapter VII: Pilgrimage

The sign of the sacrifice was already upon her, in the year 1840. On the surface, she had everything which could satisfy her. She had become the idol of the National Drama. She had been made Member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Music in 1840, and had received the high official recognition by being appointed Court-singer on the 13th of January, 1840, by His Majesty Carl Johan. This was an honour which her mother had already been anticipating, from the summer of 1839, and had rejoiced over the fact that it included a salary. “It is a great mark of distinction,” she writes to her husband; “and a great joy for us!” She had the best social “world” at her feet. She enjoyed the delightful companionship of some of the most cultivated men and women in Sweden. Her position at the Royal Theatre was assured her. The Directors were, at the very moment, proposing to her a fresh and advanced contract. Indeed, we shall see that their zeal outran their discretion and their proper consideration for her; for they were but too anxious to use her gifts at the risk of over-straining them. Her popularity was at its height; she was pursued with enthusiasm. The musical authorities of Stockholm had no more to teach her; they were content to praise her as the perfect exponent of their art.

And, yet, what was it that worked within the girl’s heart, and told her that all this was as nothing—told her that, far from having reached the end, she was not even at the beginning—told her that her art had secrets yet to unfold to her, and that this adulation which encompassed her was but a prophecy of what she ought to become hereafter? As she bowed in courteous acknowledgment of the loud plaudits of an enthusiastic theatre, she heard, above all the genial tumult, this “still, small voice” within, which said to her, “Yes! you may some day live to deserve that kindly, that encouraging applause; but to-day you know that, by rights, it is not yours. It is given you, in spite of yourself. But you have that in you which may, indeed, deserve to receive that which is generously offered you, in anticipation, to-day. Far away, over the sea, the secret is kept which will unlock the shut doors, and will set free your true self. There it is that Art will disclose the mystery, which is now felt but not perceived—the mystery that moves veiled behind the glory of to-day’s success.” It was the inspiration of genius which spoke to her. She had but her own soul to trust to. She had no ideal, no articulate standard given her, by which to test herself; yet she knew her lack—she felt what she was missing. And, in so feeling, she knew, also, that, to discover the ideal, to win that which was lacking, all her present triumph must be surrendered—must be thrown to the winds. The voice within must be obeyed at all costs; out over the sea, far from home and its happy honours, she must seek, alone and undirected, the meaning of the mysterious summons. Surely the pressure of the prophetic words was upon her—

“Fear not, though upward still it haste,
That living fire, that tongue of flame!
_Thy_ days it turns to bitter waste;
But ah! from heaven—from heaven it came!”

So it was that she took her own resolution. We give it in her own remarkable words. They were written in answer to the new proposals made by the Directors, who, on the 15th of December, 1840, “wishing,” as they said, “most particularly to attach to the Swedish stage a talent so eminent as the Court-singer Fröken Jenny Lind, make her the highest offer of which their regulations afford them the power.” This highest offer was, it is true, not extravagant; it ensured her £150 a year; it provided her with all her costumes out of theatrical funds; it allowed her one “benefit” every year; and special “extra service money for the parts in which she appears.” It offered her the months of July and August for study abroad; and promised to try to extend this interval. The engagement was to last for the full period permitted, _i.e._ three years.

To this Fröken Lind sent the following answer:—

“_To the Directors of the Royal Theatre._

“In reply to the letter from the Directors of the Royal Theatre, dated
15th December last year, I have the honour to state as follows: The
musical and dramatic capabilities which, from my earliest years, I
have felt myself to possess, have, thanks to the cultivation received
at home, though hitherto insufficient, still been able to attract some
attention to my dawning talent; but it is not with half-developed
natural gifts, however happy, that an artist can keep his ground; and,
greatly as I prize the appreciation I have been fortunate enough
already to win, I feel I ought to consider it not so much a homage to
the artist I was and am, as an encouragement to what I might become.

“With this conviction, and in order to attain the artistic perfection
open to me, I have thought it a duty to do what I can, and not to draw
back before any sacrifice, either of youth, health, comfort, or
labour, not to speak of the modest sum I have managed to save, in the
hope of reaching what may, perhaps, prove an unattainable aim. In
consequence, I have decided on a journey to, and a sojourn at, some
place abroad, which, through furnishing the finest models in art,
would prove to me of the greatest profit.

“It is, then, chiefly this journey which constitutes the real obstacle
to my immediately accepting, in its entirety, the kind offer of the
Directors of the Royal Theatre; for it defers, for another year, the
possibility of my re-engagement. I am in hopes, however, that the
Royal Directors will not disapprove of my resolution, all the more as
it aims solely at perfecting myself in my art; while all sacrifices,
inseparable from a similar undertaking, will fall on myself alone.
Trusting that the Royal Directors will accord to these reasons due
consideration, and, in accordance with the request made in their kind
letter, I beg leave to submit my counter-proposals.

“On returning to my native country, next year, I undertake to serve at
the Royal Theatre for the two following years at the salary proposed
by the Royal Directors in the above-mentioned letter of the 15th
December last, but with the following modifications: that my
engagement, for each year, may not exceed eight months, viz., from 1st
October unto the following 31st May, so that a leave of the four
months, June, July, August and September may be accorded to me.

“Furthermore, I must, rather as a humble petition, than as a condition
for my return to the service of the Royal Theatre, express my wish to
be free this year from next 31st May, since in the beginning of June
an opportunity offers for me to start on my intended journey in
company with a family without whose protection I should not venture to
undertake it. I hope the Royal Directors will, kindly, give due weight
to this invaluable advantage, and, in view of its importance to me,
excuse my earnest request.

“JENNY LIND.

“Stockholm, 9 February, 1841.”

A notable document, this. Had she any counsel to aid her in its production? Did Berg, did Lindblad advise the step? We have no record of such advice from them. Both, indeed, seem to have agreed to the step, and to favour its carrying out; for Berg is found with her at the start in Paris; and it is only out of her own delicate affection for her former master that she delays her beginning with the next one. Moreover, she owns to having consulted him as to what was to be done when it became clear to him as to her, that he had no more to teach her. Lindblad, also, visits her in Paris, and interests himself in her final fortunes there. But, still, there is no sign of their being the prime movers. No evidence exists of her seeking other counsel than her own heart in making the final decision.

Yet two influences there were that told strongly upon her at the time, and urged her forward. The first was theoretical and ideal: it was that of Geijer. He was clear that she belonged to mankind, rather than to Sweden, and he pressed upon her the necessity of widening her range of knowledge and skill. She, herself, attributed the momentum that drove her afield to Geijer’s insistence. “He kicked me out ... into the great world,” she would say, with humorous vigour. The second influence was direct, and practical. It was the example of Belletti, the celebrated barytone, then singing with her at the Royal Theatre. He showed her, vividly, what scientific singing in the great Italian manner really meant; and he would be able, if consulted as to where such style could be gained, to say at once,—“At Paris, under Garcia.”

The decision, then, from which she is not to draw back, even at “the sacrifice of youth, health, comfort, and of her modest savings,” appears to be largely the issue of her own insight, and deliberation. Later on, in Paris, she speaks as if it were her own “artistic conscience” whose dictates she had obeyed. Certainly, it was left to her own courage and resolution to find the funds by which to carry it out. And it was, for this end, that she had already in the summer of 1840 set out on a provincial round of concerts, accompanied by her father; in which she, probably, wore out what remained of her voice after the hard work of the theatrical season, but, in compensation, won triumphant successes and accumulated supplies that would carry her through a year’s training at Paris, whither she was determined to go and discover the true secret of song.

We have a letter from her written, in the middle of this tour, towards the early part of July, to her friend Louise Johansson, from Malmö, at the extreme south of Sweden, whence she could actually see Copenhagen, in which she records how things have gone in the series of towns through which she has passed. “The journey has gone off well enough, thank God! That is to say, the roads were so bad that the wheels, now and then, sank a foot deep into the mud, and it was very horrid sitting about in the atrocious weather; but as soon as I arrive in a town, and see the exceeding great kindness and friendliness the people have for me, then I feel it wicked to grumble. You cannot think to what an extent they all vie with each other in serving me. It is quite astonishing!”

The letter closes with a commission which shows how very early in life her characteristic charities had begun:—

“My dear Louisa, would you be kind enough to render me the service of
going to Clara Vestra, Kyrkogata 13 or 25. I am not sure which of
these numbers is the right one, but after you have crossed the Clara
churchyard, and when you arrive at the gate on the Vestragatan, turn
to the left, then it is the first door on the right-hand side, on the
ground floor. Ask for Bruhn, the painter, a poor sick man ill in bed
these last fourteen years; I forgot to bring him his monthly
allowance, before coming away; will you be good enough to give him, on
my behalf, 8 r. d. banco, and to tell him this is for the months of
July and August. Greet him much from me, as also his wife, and pardon
your friend who troubles you in this way.

“JENNY.”

A note is here struck, which is to sound on through her life. It expresses one of the most vital instincts of her nature—an instinct which roots itself deep down in her artistic impulses—this instinct which bids her dedicate her gift to the cause of the poor, and the unhappy. That in her which made her an artist, made her also charitable. It was the sense of possessing a gift which prompts the giving. That which had flowed in, must flow out. She was responsible for her great possession; she held it in trust; she must put it out to use. It was no mere liberality of disposition; it was no mere genial beneficence; it was an obligation, binding, and urgent; a joyful duty; a holy privilege which it would be a sin to neglect. Everything in her which made her recognise the powers lodged in her to be a divine endowment, made her, by a like impulse, recognise her duty to give away what she gained. No one will understand her, who does not see how closely her charity was interwoven with her art; and how it was that, in after days, in deciding the question of marriage, she made it the prime necessity that her husband should leave her free in her charities. It is because it was so interwoven, that it seemed to her to be no work of merit; it was done by a plain law of right; it was spontaneous, natural, inevitable. So it is that already, at twenty, in the flush of youth and personal success, her nature is at work with instinctive security; she has found out the poor sick painter; and, quite modestly apologising for the trouble, just as if she were giving a commission to buy something at a shop, she begs her friend to see to it that he gets what he had the right to look for from her.

Back to Stockholm she got in August, where she was singing in _Lucia di Lammermoor_, on August 19th; and all through the autumn, and spring, she is hard at work, fulfilling her bond to the Directors, though, owing to her concert-tour, she had had no holiday whatever. No wonder, that her voice was left fatigued and strained after such unintermittent work, with all the weariness of incessant journeys, and the anxieties that beset new appearances in unfamiliar rooms. It was in this effort to raise funds by which to reach Paris, that she ran so near to doing irreparable damage to her vocal powers. Twenty-three times does she perform in _Lucia_, between August 19th, when she returned, and June 19th, when she closed her engagement. Fourteen times did she give “Alice,” in _Roberto_; and nine times she repeated her former _rôle_ of “Agatha” in the _Freischütz_. And, besides these, there were incidental appearances; in the _Zauberflöte_ as “Pamina”; in _The Swiss Family_ as “Emmelina”; and, seven times, as “Alaida” in Bellini’s _Straniera_. And, moreover, there were concerts at the theatre, in which she sang, on August 27th, and October 17th, and November 14th, and on January 11th and 20th. And, finally, for the closing nights in May and June, came her first seven performances of _Norma_. At the last of the concerts, she had sung, as her piece, a duet from _Norma_, with Mme. Gelhaar, her old playmate in the school. And, on May 19th, the full opera was produced, in which her own people recognised, and greeted, one of her most brilliant and impressive impersonations.

With _Norma_ she ended, on June 19th; it was her 447th appearance on the boards of the Royal Theatre, since, as a tiny child of ten, she played “Angela” in _The Polish Mine_, on November 29th, 1830. The Directors had, indeed, been justified by the venture they made with the little creature, whom they sent on the stage to dance and sing before she had been many months at the school. She had well repaid them. For her sixty-nine performances in the year 1840, she is only receiving, besides the regulation play money, 1100 r. d. banco—about £95 a year. Her voice is fatigued, and worn; she has done more work than she could rightly afford. But her spirit is not looking back, but ahead. She is not calculating her present gains; but is all on fire with the great hope, that is astir within her, at the bidding of which she will wander out, a pilgrim of Art, seeking the better country, sure that there is a vision to be seen, a victory to be won, to which as yet she has not even come nigh.

She has found her opportunity; and has made her resolution. Some good, kind friends, M. and Madame von Koch, in whose house she found constant friendship and affection, have arranged for her journey, and have lent her a maid, as a companion. A safe road is thus laid open for her to Paris. So, on June 21st, she gave, in the Ladugårdslands Church, a final concert on her own behalf, singing an aria from _Anna Bolena_, and another from _Norma_; winding up with a ‘Lyrical Farewell,’ written and composed, for the occasion, by Lindblad; and, in July, she leaves the Lindblads’ house, and enters on the pilgrimage which was to mean so much. Home has been gracious to her; she loves her country which has loved her so freely; her one desire is to return to Stockholm, worthy of the enthusiasm which it has poured about her. But home cannot tell her the great secret. Somewhere else it lies, far off; she must seek it, and find it, even though, on its behalf, she sacrifice “youth, health, comfort, labour, and savings.”

BOOK II.
ASPIRATION.