Jenny Lind the Artist

We have seen that it was the child's _musical_ talent that, first, evoked the wonder of her neighbours. The stupor of the grandmother at the baby's fanfare on the piano; the amazement of the passers-by at the song which was being confided to the ears of the patient and appreciative cat; the tears that started to the eyes of Croelius-these are the earliest signals of her marvellous gifts. But we, now, have to recognise a new characteristic, which was almost more phenomenal than her singing. Indeed, it may well be doubted whether, during her first ten years at the Royal Theatre, it did not surpass her voice in witnessing to the presence in her of a unique genius. This was her _dramatic_ power. Precocious and extraordinary as her child-voice had been, both in versatility and in tenderness, yet her early woman's voice did not, at first, exhibit or develop its after-gifts of high sonority. It was still thin, and veiled. Rather, at that time, the secret of her success lay in that intense and irresistible identification of herself, voice and all, with her part, which is the highest proof of dramatic genius.

In later years, those, who heard her sing in opera, would often say, that if she had not been the greatest singer in the world, she would have been the greatest actress. And we shall see the evidence for the truth of this anticipation, if we glance over the early records of her performance at the theatre; and we shall, also, understand through what years of actual experience it was that she had obtained that thorough mastery over all the detail and method of the stage, which made her acting so consummate.