The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1893-11-07

others of Jenny's intimate friends. All
seemed to be going on swimningly. and
Mrs. Grotc went off to Paris, followed
soon after by my father, but before he
went he said to Jenny Lind: Some
thing tells me that your II arriage viii
| not take place If it should be broken
off again, write no letters and have no
| farewell interviews. but join Mrs.
Grote in Paris Immediately.
Affairs had not been going on SO
smoothly as appeared. Mr.. Harris had
| asked Jenny to insert in the settlements
promise that she would never act
again. To this my father objected. and
| he also insisted that Jenny was to have
| uncontrolled power over her earnings.
Mr.. Harris said this was unscriptural,
and the engagement was nearly broken
off, but renewed in consequence of the
despair Mr.. Harris exhibited. He also
terrified her by threats of torment here
after if she broke her word; and last Of
all, when in the JOY of reconciliation
she was singing to him, she turned
round and saw that he had gone to
sleep. Not long after Mr.. Senior reached
Paris there was tap at the door of
Mrs Grote's apartment one evening
about seven o'clock and in came Jenny.
The ill-assorted marriage was finally
broken off.
The emotions of the last few mon tbs
had told heavily upon Jenny Lind, but
wi tn the sense of freedom the power of
enjoyment soon returned, and she rode
in the Bois de Boulogne and walked on
the boulevards and in the Tuileries, and
listened to the nightingales. One day
she took my father to house in the
place d'Orleans. near the Rue st. Lag
are. 1t was built round courtyard,
with fountain in the middle. Jenny
gazed at it without speaking. After
ward she said: Il was SO miserable in
that house; I envied the fountain be.
cause it was not obliged to sing"
The house had been the residence Of
master of singing in Europe, and she
alluded to the time when, in despair
at the loss of her voice from fatigue
and bad management, she slowly re-
gained it by means, first of rest, and
then of skillful practice under Garcia's
teaching.
The domestic happiness for which she
had SO long sighed was soon to he hers.
After singing in concerts and oratorios
in Germany, Sweden and Liverpool, she
sailed for the United States on August
81, 1850 Her success in the New World
was as brilliant as it had been in the
Old, and her charities as munificent
Her company was Joined in 1854 By Mr..
Otto Goldschmidt, who succeeded Bene-
dict as pianist A deep and true attach
ment sprang up between the two young
artists, and they were married on Feb
ruary, 5, 1852.
Her horror of being lionized led her
sometimes to reject overtures which
were made in perfectly good faith to
express the respect and admiration felt
for her; hence she was not always pop
ular. She delighted in giving chill
dren's partieA 1 remember one In 1865,
at her house in Wimbledon, and her
joyous participation in the amusement
she had provided. and again in More
tons gardens, when she waltzed like a
girl with her eldest son. The last time
heard her sing was at concert she
gave at her own house in 1880 for the
prince of Sweden. She had become
very nervous. about herr voice, and it
was not certain whether in the end
she would summon up courage. At
last she yielded to the persuasion of her
friends and sang the splendid cantata,
with violin accompaniment, from Mo-
zart's RE Pastore." 1t was thing to
remember for the rest of ones life.
In her later years she took little
house called Windspoint which she ar
ranged and improved till it ressmbled
Swiss cottage on the top of the hills
above Malvern Wells. We had, in the
summer of 1854, house just below
hers, and we saw her much more fire.
quently than was possible in the tur-
neil OF London. We often used to sit
with her in the garden enjoying the
magnificent view. She was always un-
easy lest she should be stared at, and If
any presumptuous wight peeped in at
the gate, she would instantly shoot up
. large red umbrella and shelter her
self beneath it. My elder daughter.
who is devoted to music, frequently
went to see her alone. and one day
ventured to ask her to write her name
in her birthday book. They were in
the drawing-room. Jenny Lind rose
up. saying: "Well. did not think you
had been commonplace person." and
walked through the window into the
garden, leaving my daughter to repent
her indiscrction. Presently her hostess
came back and gave her beautiful
rose, and went ON talking as if nothing
had happened. and when Gaynor was
taking leave. Mrs. Goldschmidt said
Now, where is your birth
day book?" and wrote her name in it.
1t must have cost her more than many
an apparently greater sacrifice.
l like to think of her as she stood in
he hanging balcony of her cottage
waving good-by, the sun setting be-
lind her picturesque figure 1t was at |
that she died in 1887. At |
he very close of her life, as she lay on |
Ter death bed at Malvern, in weakness |
md misery, once. as her daughter |
opened the shutters and let in the |
sun. she Just let her lips shape |
he first bars of the old song she loved: /
An den Sonpenschein." They were the
asst notes she sang on earth.
When Princess Anne, afterward |
queen OF England, was married she |
wore a headdress two yards high and |
hree yards in circumfere nee.
Passenger elevators were in use in |