The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-11-22
performances, and he and Jenny wer.

cottage; 1t was covered with roses nnd
creepcrs; it had pretty garden, and
was thoroughly rural. The backs OF
the houses in Brcchin place now oc
cupy the ground. She and Cluudiue
Harris often Joined our country rides.
lie generally fell to my share, and did
not lind him exciting company. Lord
lansdownc sometimes Joined us and
also came to meet them mt dinner. but
we did not venture to invite anyone
else, except the Grotes and one or two
others of Jcnny's intimate friends All
seemed to be going on swimmingly, and
Mrs Grote 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 IN arriage will
not take place. If it should be broken
of 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 net
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 ut 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
with the sense of freedom the power of
enjoyment soon returned, and she rode
in the Bois de Boulognc and walked on
the boulcvards and in the Tuileries, and
listened to the p:ghtingales. One day
she took my father to Il house in the
place dOrleans, near the Rue st. LaZ-
are 1t was built round courtyard,
with fountain in the middle Jenny
gazcd at it without speaking After
ward she said: Il was so miserable in
that house; l envicd the fountain be-
cause it was not obliged to sing"
The house had been the residence of
Manuel Garcia, the most celebrated
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 sliillful practice under Garcia's
teaching.
The domestic happiness for which she
CT orb
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 1851 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, s. 1852.
Her horror of being lionized led her
sometimes to reject overturcs 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
drens parties. L remember one In 1865,
ut her house in Wimbledon, and her
joyous participation in the amusement
She had provided, and again in More
tons gardens, when she waltzcd like
girl with her eldest son. The last time
heard her sing was at concert she
gave at her own house in 1850 for the
prince of Sweden. She had become
very nervous about her1voice, 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 a little
house called Windspoint, which she ar
ranged aud improved till it resemblcd
Swiss cottage on the top of the hills
above Malvern Wells. We had, in the
summer of 1884, house just below
hers, and we saw her much more fire.
quently than was possible in the tur-
moil 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 ND
| a 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 indiscrntiQn prcaentl1, hnt. fnstoSo