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Nor was there a falling off in those other vast emporiums of civilization, commerce, and wealth-Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, New Orleans, St. Louis, Louisville, Cincinnati, etc. Smaller towns, like Richmond, Charleston, Nashville, Pittsburgh, differed from the first named only in inverse ratio to their size, the attendance being even greater and the enthusiasm more marked. One single concert in Richmond, for example, brought the enormous sum of thirteen thousand dollars (twenty-six hundred pounds). That two concerts at the seat of Congress, Washington, should prove eminently satisfactory was not to be wondered at, considering that the President, the whole Senate and House of Representatives, and the élite of society were present; but that at Providence, with a population of only fifty thousand, six hundred and fifty dollars (one hundred and thirty pounds) should have been paid for one single ticket is perfectly amazing. It was only in tropical Havana that the warmth of the reception did not correspond with the heat of the outer atmosphere. There was even a decided opposition when Miss Lind appeared at the Tacon Theater, and for the first time in her career discordant sounds greeted her before she had sung a note. The Havanese, as a rule, did not care for concerts in any shape, and unjustly vented on the prima donna their displeasure at the high prices asked. This put her on the mettle, and throwing all her talent in the scale, she actually conquered her public à la pointe de l'épée. She resented, however, the gratuitous insult offered her, and though recalled five times and encored with acclamation, she calmly bowed, without complying with the tumultuous request for a repetition.
On returning to the States, the concert party, which, besides Signor Belletti, had included Mr. Richard Hoffmann (piano) and Burke (violin), was further strengthened by the engagement of Signor Salvi (tenor), and Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, the distinguished composer and pianist. Differences having arisen between the impresario and the prima donna, they separated amicably after a concert at Philadelphia on June 9th, the engagement originally entered into for a year thus terminating at the end of nine months. Miss Lind then gave a series of concerts on her own account in various towns of the State of New York, accompanied by Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, Signor Salvi, Mr. Burke, and myself. These in every respect exceeded by far all expectations.
They were interrupted only by a short stay at Springfield and Northampton, Massachusetts, two of the most lovely spots on earth, where the great artist found some rest after her unceasing activity, and gathered new strength for the accomplishment of the tasks before her.
One by one those charming places, Hartford on the Connecticut River, Utica, Syracuse, Auburn, and Rochester, yielded their contingent of admiring crowds. A fortnight's delightful stay at the Clifton Hotel, Niagara Falls, preceded the last concert (at Buffalo) for which Signor Belletti and myself were engaged with Miss Lind, who passed the winter in the States, making a short artistic tour to Canada, and returning afterward to Boston.
The friendship between herself and Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, based on mutual esteem, and which had existed for several years, having ripened to a deeper feeling, they were married in that city, February 5, 1852, and shortly afterward a brilliant farewell concert in New York terminated her professional career in America. Though urged over and over again by her transatlantic admirers to return to this field of her triumphs, she would not be prevailed upon to venture a second time on such a responsible undertaking.
Jenny Lind's influence on the progress of music in America cannot be estimated. True, there had been many vocalists of repute, amongst others the celebrated operatic company of the Havanese Theater, with Angiolina Bosio, Tedesco, Salvi, Badiali, and Marini, but their performances, though patronized to a certain degree by the upper ten, were marred by a very indifferent mise en scène, and never did more than barely cover the expenses. Jenny Lind was the first who, in the prime of life, with the option of carte blanche for all the capitals of Europe, whether on the stage or in the concert-room, preferred the fresh and unspoiled public of a new and comparatively untried country to the tempting prospects held out nearer home.
The style of her singing, the variety of her repertoire, from the simple Swedish ballad to the most elaborate Italian bravura,— attracted not merely the privileged few, but made her the idol of the masses. Stipulating for music of the highest class, imparting to her programmes an artistic interest by introducing not only vocal but instrumental features of an elevated order, she gave an impulse to art by her own example which was soon followed, extended, and is now brought
to such a point that New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, and Cincinnati can boast of operatic establishments equal, and, in many cases, superior, to those of Paris, London, Milan, Berlin, or Vienna, not to speak of the recent gigantic musical festivals of Philadelphia and Boston.
On returning to Europe, Madame Goldschmidt and her husband spent a few years in comparative retirement at Dresden, whence they returned to England in 1856, where they gave oratorios as well as miscellaneous concerts which, far from falling short of those on former occasions, exceeded them greatly. In the concert-room, whether in the classical masterpieces of Handel, Mozart, Haydn, or Mendelssohn, or in the lighter style of arias and songs, she always demanded of herself the highest standard of excellence. When assuming the first soprano part in "The Messiah," "The Creation," "Elijah," "The Requiem," the melodies of Schubert and Schumann, or her own national songs, the earnestness and zeal, the total abstraction from all that surrounded her, impressed and fascinated the hearers quite as much as her dramatic performances had done.
I remember that at a concert at Natchez, on the Mississippi, when the steamer stopped to take fuel, she sang before an audience of about a thousand persons, composed of a small number of planters and their families, the great bulk being colored people. There, as in another small place, Memphis, and at the unusual hour of eleven o'clock in the morning, she executed her solos with a finish and perfection which would have astonished the frequenters of Her Majesty's Theater, in London, or the Académie de Musique, in Paris. When I complimented her, and expressed my surprise that before so many who probably heard for the first time an artist of her renown, and would have been satisfied with even an ordinary performance, she should have taken so much pains to do her very best, she replied: "I value my art much too highly to degrade it even occasionally by any willful disregard of what I consider due to it."
Here, then, is, in my opinion, the secret of her wonderful success. It is just that conscientiousness, that reverential feeling, which prompted her always to inspire even those who knew hardly anything of music with her ardor and made them share her own emotion.
During her tour in England, Madame Goldschmidt's powers were unimpaired, and when, some years ago, she decided, with a few exceptions only, to retire from public life, regret was universal. Mr. and Madame Goldschmidt have since succeeded in founding the Bach Choir, and to them London is indebted for the masterly rendering of the formerly inaccessible, nay, almost unknown, stupendous creations of the giant, John Sebastian.
I have not alluded in this brief, and, as I am fully aware, most incomplete sketch, to the numberless acts of benevolence and generosity by which Madame Goldschmidt, during a long period, endowed not only her own Sweden but Great Britain and America with charitable institutions which will perpetuate her name, and I will not dilate on the qualities which distinguish her as wife, mother, and friend. peculiar charm of her meteor-like dramatic career must not be lost sight of. Having retired so early in life, she is remembered, like Malibran, as ever young. But it is very much to be lamented that she did not turn her powerful influence to better account, particularly in America. There, where all the best materials abound, she might have laid the ground-work of a permanent school of music on the largest scale. What results might she not have achieved by taking the initiative and forming a college, uniting the greatest talent in Europe as a staff of professors!
I may, perhaps, on some future occasion, expand the idea of the model establishments I would propose for that fertile and, strange to say, almost unexplored soil of the great republic which, sooner or later, must distance old Europe in the fine arts as it does now in all the branches of scientific invention and commercial enterprise.
ing for a sight of the victorious Charles, and were suing for his friendship, or endeavoring to appease his wrath. Not only the Protestants of Silesia, but Rákóczy and the rebels of Hungary and Transylvania, sought his assistance against Austria. Many Germans, on the other hand, including Leibnitz, either from a feeling of Protestant sympathy or from a real love of humanity and freedom, had convinced themselves that the government of Louis XIV. was a menace to civilization and to progress, and urged Charles to become the champion of religious freedom against France, as his predecessor, Gustavus Adolphus, had been against Austria. But the example of Gustavus Adolphus and the Thirty Years' War was urged also by France. Louis XIV. proposed a French alliance, the junction of the armies of Charles and of Marshal Villars, and the subsequent partition of Germany. These views were skillfully urged by French envoys, and were supported by a lavish distribution of bribes and presents. All this, however, was without result. Charles remained firm in his resolution not to interfere, though serious misunderstandings arose between him and the Emperor, and all the resources of the allies had to be brought into play to avert the possibility of an attack on Vienna. The causes of dispute were not serious, but each of them excited the inflammable mind of Charles, and each confirmed him in his obstinacy. The weightiest of them were the attacks of the Imperial Government on the privileges confirmed to the Protestants by treaties, and the complaints of the Protestants of Silesia, to whom the King had rashly given his word on passing the Oder. The views of Charles on this subject were so strong that, at the end of 1706, a report was in circulation that he had determined to demand henceforth the election of a Protestant and a Catholic emperor alternately. The other difficulties were of a more trifling nature. Some Swedish recruiting sergeants had been mobbed in Breslau, and one had been killed. For this, Charles demanded satisfaction. The rich Austrian chamberlain, Count Zabor, had quarreled with Strahlenheim, the Swedish minister at Vienna, and had dared to express himself contemptuously of King Stanislas. there was a dispute about the secularized bishopric of Eutin, which was another phase of the quarrel between HolsteinGottorp and Denmark; and, finally, the Austrians were accused of a breach of neutrality because they had assisted the Rus
sians to escape after the battle of Fraustadt. Prussia, on Charles's demand, had punished Colonel Schlund for giving the Tsar advice on the improvement of his artillery, and had proscribed the theologian Dippel for a pamphlet criticising the Swedish decrees against the Pietists; but the Emperor could not bring himself to be thus submissive. The breach between him and Charles widened daily, and the French lost no opportunity of increasing it.
As an attack on Austria by Charles would have practically aided France, and would have necessitated the recall of the imperial troops, the Duke of Marlborough, who had already been successful as a negotiator, urged by the Elector of Hanover and others of the allies, went to Saxony with an autograph letter from Queen Anne "not from her chancery, but from her heart,"-as she phrased it. Charles accepted Marlborough's compliments, but made none in reply. Neither made a favorable impression on the other, though Marlborough preferred Charles to Augustus or Stanislas, both of whom he had the fortune to meet. Marlborough made no formal propositions. He surveyed the ground, endeavored to ascertain the real feelings of the King, suggested to Piper the possibility of mediation in the case of the Eutin bishopric, proclaimed the warmest sympathy with the Protestants of Germany, and full agreement with the King on this point, but expressed the wish of his Queen that the claims of the Silesian Protestants against the Emperor should not be pressed until after the termination of the war with France, when both England and Holland would support them. Although the relations of King Charles to the Emperor gave the allies great anxiety during the whole of the summer, the vexatious questions were finally arranged. An indemnity was paid to the widow of the recruiting sergeant killed in Breslau; satisfaction was given for the conduct of Count Zabor; and the affair of the Eutin bishopric was settled by the Danish Prince Charles, who had been supported by Austria, giving up his claims in return for a pension from Holland and England. The Silesian business was more difficult. Charles would not desist from his demands; the Emperor refused to grant them; and England and Holland refused to guarantee the Peace of Altranstädt until Charles should become reconciled with the Emperor. Things went so far that the King, who had already prevented the Duke of Savoy from taking part
in the siege of Toulon by threatening to invade his dominions, finally said to Piper: "I have already, out of politeness, waited too long for the final explanation of the Emperor; therefore, I have resolved to march the day after to-morrow." Neither Piper nor Cederhjelm could move him, though they talked with him till midnight. Sleep brought other counsels, and the next day the King was more yielding. All sides took advantage of this disposition: the Austrians signed the conditions which Charles demanded for the Silesian Protestants; and England and Holland, in spite of the efforts of Russia, consented to guarantee the Peace of Altranstädt.
In December, 1706, Peter left St. Petersburg for Moscow, intending to keep the Christmas holidays there, as in former years. But at Narva he was met by a courier from Menshikóf with the news of the Treaty of Altranstädt and of the departure of Augustus for Saxony. Instead of going to Moscow, he went straight to Volynia, where his army was in winter quarters, and passed more than four months at Zolkiew, near Lemberg, "in order to keep on his side the Republic, which remained without a head, as the peace was made without its knowledge." Besides Menshikóf, he had with him there Sheremétief and Repnin, Prince Gregory Dolgorúky, and the hetman Mazeppa. Even his son, the Tsarevitch Alexis, then in his eighteenth year, came on from Moscow and staid till the middle of May. One of his most trusted advisers was wanting-Count* Theodore Golovín, who had died four months before, of fever, at Glukhof, while hastening from Moscow to meet the Tsar at Kief. His body, which had been taken to Moscow, still lay unburied in the church, because Peter insisted on accompanying it to the grave. It was not until the beginning of March that, seeing no chance of his speedy return, the Tsar gave the order for the funeral. Golovín was one of the old adherents of Peter's family, who was loved not only as a friend, but trusted in the conduct of business. Enjoying the confidence of the Tsar Alexis, he had watched over Peter's boyhood until, in 1686, he was sent by Sophia on an important mission to Siberia, where, in 1689, he concluded the first treaty with China,-the unfortunate
He was created a Count of the Holy Roman Empire by the Emperor Leopold, on November 16, 1701.
treaty of Nertchínsk,-of which we shall speak more at length in another place.
The title of admiral passed to Apráxin; the ministry of Foreign Affairs was intrusted to the chamberlain, Gabriel Ivánovitch Golófkin. Twelve years older than the Tsar, and connected with his family through the Narýshkins, Golófkin had passed his life in the intimacy of Peter, and had accompanied him in many of his expeditions. He had remained at Moscow during Peter's journey to the West, but had written him familiar and jesting letters. During the war, he had been charged with important duties, and had kept up his correspondence in the same vein, occasionally too coarse to translate. Golófkin soon received the title of count from the Emperor Joseph, which was subsequently confirmed by the Tsar, and after the battle of Poltáva he was created chancellor.
The most important man in the Foreign Office, however, was Peter Shapírof—a personage of a different sort. The son of a poor Polish Jew employed as a translator, he had been apprenticed to a tradesman, and had been found by Peter in one of his wanderings about Moscow. The Tsar was struck by his quickness and his knowledge of languages, took him into his service, and rapidly promoted him. Shapirof accompanied Peter in his journey abroad and during his earlier campaigns against the Swedes, was made privy secretary in 1704, became director of the Foreign Office in the autumn of 1706, was promoted to be vice-chancellor in 1709, and in the following year was created the first Russian baron. He occupies, henceforth, a prominent place in the history of Peter's reign.
A diet of the Confederates of Sandomir was in session at Lemberg, a dozen miles from the Tsar's head-quarters, but its members were too wavering in mind to know what to do. As Peter wrote to Apráxin: "Here everything is as new beer, and we don't yet know what it will be like."
Meanwhile, as the Tsar was left without allies, he resolved to ascertain whether Charles was ready for peace. Colonel Morel de Carrière, a French officer in the Russian service, was sent to Besenval, the French minister to the Swedish Court, with propositions, in Peter's own handwriting, of which the substance was that he would be ready to cede Dorpat; if this were not enough, he would pay a money compensation for Narva; or, if peace were impossible other