The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-03-20
MUSICAL MEMORIES.

with my FAMILY IN the EDgadlne valley
of eastern Switzerland. 1t is, as many
of my readers know. one of the Hottest
inhabited valleys in that country, and is
famous now as health and pleasure re-
sort. A large part of my time was passed
at Pontresina. which is close to some OF
| the loftiest mountains and beautiful
| glaciers for which the Engadine is ia.
nous. Among the guests at our hotel
was young captain in the British army
who was spending his vacation in the
J congenial occupation of hunting and
mountain climbing. There was hardly
] peak that this adventurous officer had
not attacked and subdued, and he was
not without the proofs that more than
one chamois had fallen before his rifle.
He was not only good hunter, but also
a musician, and one Sunday afternoon
we found him playing upon the piano
with his father. Father aod son were
devoted to each other, and after our &C.
| quaintance had progressed somewhat, |
learned that the father was Mr.. Otto
Goldschmidt, the husband of Jenny
Lind. and that our Captain Gold
schmidt was the son of the Swedish
Nightingale" This was the beginning
of a pleasant acquaintance. renewed at
intervals by personal meetings and by
correspondence. When Mr.. Goldschmidt
published his most interesting biography
of the public life of his wife, after her
death, made some allusion to it in an
Augustus" letter; and an amateur
chamber concert in Florence, led by Cap
tain Goldschmidt, ION little instrument
made of paper and a comb and where
the other performers had equally print.
tive instruments, formed paragraph in
another epistle.
One day when we were talking to-
gether, Mr.. Goldschmidt said: "Are you
familiar with the Connecticut valley
in Massachusetts," to which l aus
wered: my father was born in North
ampton." "Ah," said he. "some of the
happiest days of my life were spent on
Round Hill in that town, with my dear
wife," | then recalled to him the occa-
sion which formed the subject of my
last letter, and we talked long and pleas
antly about the days which the happy
bride and bridegroom spent in America,
and the closing concerts and farewell in
New York.
At the time of their departure it was
reported that Mr.. and Mrs. Goldschmidt
would return to America, and make
their home in Northampton. respecting
which Harper's Weekly said "This de-
cision, if real, does credit to our lady's
love of the picturesque, for surely more
slightly town lies nowhere in our Western
world than that mass of meadow and
sweeping hill which is grouped under
the shoulder of Holyoke." 1t may have
been their intention to return to this
country, where they had received so
much kindness, obtained so much
success and enjoyed SO much hap
piness but one thing is certain. that
among the most cherished memoir
les OF long and unusually brilliant and
happy life were those which clustered
around the early spring of 1852 in the
Connecticut valley.
The three farewell concerts in New
York we're ovations which Mr.. Gold
schmidt could hardly find language ex-
pressive and grateful enough to charac-
terize even after the lapss of so many
years. They took place on the 18th, 21st
and Oath of May. the first two in Metro.
politan Hall, which was fitted and dec.
Grated for the occasion, and the last at
Castle Garden. An orchestra of eighty
musicians with Theodore Eisfeld as con.
ductor, was engaged. Mr.. Goldschmidt
played an original piece upon the piano,
which he had composed at Northamp-
ton. and every arrangement was made to
give satisfaction to the large and inter-
ested public. who desired to make the
farewell to Jenny Lind as conspicuous
and memorable as her welcome under
the auspices Of Mr.. Barnum had been.
At the last concert, after singing the
favorite Scotch song, Coming Through
the Rye" most charmingly, she came
forward with her face almost sobered to
sadness, and sang this farewell song:
young land of hope, fair western star!
Whose light hailed from chimes afar!
/ leave thee now but-twine for thee
One parting wreath of melody.
Oh take this offering of the heart,
From one who feels tits sad to part.
And of it be that strains of mine
Have glided from my heart to thine,
My voice was but the breeze that swept
The spirit chords that in thee slept
The music was not all my own
Thou gavest back the answering tone.
Farewell when parted from thy shore
Long absent scenes return once more,
Wher er the wanderers home may be-
Still, still will memory turn to thee!
Bright freemens cline, l feel the spell,
But l must say farewell, farewell!"
One who was present at this concert,
writes: THE first two stanzas were
sung sweetly and effectively. but in rem
dering ithe last. she seemed to break
over all rules of song. and the words be-
came simply the medium of passionate
expression that was dramatic beyond
i