JENNY LIND'S FAREWELL.

Lyttelton Times, Volume VI, Issue 428, 10 December 1856, Page 6

JENNY LIND'S FAREWELL.

(From ilic ' Titnetf,' Itt July.) Jenny Lind took her leave oi" the English public on (he evening of Monday, 30th June, in Exeter Hull, where v veritable multitude had assembled to greet- her. The excitementoi' this occasion can only be compared in intensity and unanimity to that which wan created on the nifjht oi' 'her dehui at her Majesty* Theatre — May 4., 18-17. Thero wub this diU'creuce how-

over —that instead of the curiosity engendered y an extraordinary reputation, .and the peculiar feeling that naturally agitates the minds of an audience about to listen to something great for the first time, it was regret at parting from an object long and deservedly cherished, tempered by a consciousness of gratification to be derived from the performance, and of satisfaction in the privilege of assisting at such a ceremony. In short the universal sentiment last night was one of pleasure mixed with pain—for, if ever public perforincrsjnay be said to have reigned in the heart of a nation, .Jenny Lind lias reigned in the heart of England, throughout the length and breadth of which her name is familiar as a household word. The causes of this unprecedented popularity need not hero be dwelt upon ; enough, that, although Jenny Lind is one of the greatest of artists, it is not to her art alone that she is indebted for her celebrity; and, on the other hand, while there is every reason to believe her one of the most single-minded and benevolent of her sex, it is not merely her personal character that has raised her to the place she enjoys in the world's esteem : others have sung as well—perhaps (we doubt it) better, hut no one, at least in our time, has sung like her ; others may have been as land and charitable, but none have publicly exercised the qualities of charity and kindncse in a precisely similar manner. Jenny Lind, is, in fact, an original, in the fullest acceptation of the term. The grace which is hers belongs to herself exclusively. Even her voice, beyond the fact of its being a soprano, possesses nothing in common with any other voice we have heard; and though she has lived in a century remarkable for great singers, she has maintained a place apart from them all. Not to become rhapsodical, however, the " Farewell Concert" of Jenny Lind is likely to be remembered for a long time to come by the audience and herself, since the demonstration that accompanied it was worthy of both, and flattering to both. Every piece in the programe (including the psalm and concerto of Herr Otto Goldschmidt), had been already heard this season. We shall therefore confine ourselves to recording that the regret at parting with such a singer was made all the more poignant by the splendour of her performances, Avbich left the fixed impression that Jenny Lind was about to retire into private life in the very meridian of her powers. When she first came on to sing in Mendelssohn's hymns she was welcomed by a shout of applause from all parts of the hall, the orchestra included. As the conceit progressed the enthusiasm of the audience got warmer and warmer, until, after the extremely arduous and trying song of the Queen of [Night (from Die Zauherjlotc) which taxes the highest note of the voice so terribh r, it became exacting, and Jenny Lind was compelled to repeat the Allegro one performance alone of which is enough to shake the physical force of the strongest and most expert vocalist. The second time, however, was even better than the first. The great// nale from La Sonnambula presented threefold difficulties after such an effort; but these were overcome with ease, and the caniabile singing in the recitative and largo, "Ah non credea," was unsurpassable for pathos, delicacy, and refinement, disclosing all the old beauties so often described —and especially that incomparable sotto voce shake at the conclusion—in colours more than ever attractive. This truly exquisite performance—listened to throughout by the whole of the vast audience in breathless silence—was followed by such a burst of applause as seldom meets the gratified ears of an artist. The audience were enraptured, and the singer was enraptured too —at least, if we draw conclusions from the gush of song which followed in tho rondo, "Ah non grunge"—only to be likened in its beauty and impulsiveness to those " profuse strains of unpremeditated art" which the poet attributes to the skylark. The audience responded by cheer after cheer, and Jenny Lind was compelled to return to the orchestra; but, having yet another task to perform, she wisely declined to repeat the rondo. The last piece was the well-known " Echo Song," in which, as usual, tho songstress accompanied herself at the piano. There was something suggestive in this Swedish melody, which, after the reiterated " oehor-s," as everybody knows, terminates pian/Miwu —like the music of some sweet voice heard from a long distance. Jenny Lind scorned to bestow more than ordinary pains upon this illusion, and lingered upon the few concluding notes, as if with a feeling that they woro the very last to

which she was ever to give utterance in presence of the English public. If .such were really the case nothing could be more natural, since where so largo a, sympathy has been showed ,ifc is impossible to believe that it has not in some measure been reciprocated. Jenny Lind has given us good cause to think that she does not belong to the common race of artists, and that ingratitude does not belong to her nature. Let us, then, believe that the regret felt at parting was not all on one side, and that the slight tremulousness which imparted an additional charm to those soft and just audible tones at the end of the " Echo Song" came from the heart of the singer, and meant .something more than a simple expedient resorted to for the purpose of effect. Of one thing we are certain—the last notes of Jenny Lind will not very soon be forgotten by those who were fortunate enough to hear them. They represented the final greeting of one who has rather been idolized than courted as an ordinary public favourite, and listened to with an interest little short of painful. To pourtray the scene that ensued is not easy. The audience rose as one, applauding, cheering, and waving hats and handkerchiefs, with an enthusiasm that defies description. The object of tins extraordinary ovation—in which the ladies were quite as earnest as the gentlemen —was at length so moved by it, that she caught the infection from her admirers, and waved her own handkerchief, first to the audience, and then to the orchestra, with an heartiness that left little doubt of her emotion. When she had gone she was called back again, and the scene repeated. The end was thus worthy of the beginning. Jenny Lind won the favour of the English public from the first, and retained it undiminished to the last, which recent events have proved; and, as we take it for granted that few can be indifferent to what immediately concerns the welfare of one who—not merely by rare gifts, but by good works—has attained such distinction, Aye are glad of this opportunity to assure our readers that Madame Jenny LindGoldschmidt retires from public life to devote herself to a home which is now, and has been since she was first married, one of unclouded happiness.