Jenny Lind the Artist by Henry Scott Holland

The sign of the sacrifice was already upon her, in the year 1840. On the surface, she had everything which could satisfy her. She had become the idol of the National Drama. She had been made Member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Music in 1840, and had received the high official recognition by being appointed Court-singer on the 13th of January, 1840, by His Majesty Carl Johan. This was an honour which her mother had already been anticipating, from the summer of 1839, and had rejoiced over the fact that it included a salary. "It is a great mark of distinction," she writes to her husband; "and a great joy for us! " She had the best social "world" at her feet. She enjoyed the delightful companionship of some of the most cultivated men and women in Sweden. Her position at the Royal Theatre was assured her. The Directors were, at the very moment, proposing to her a fresh and advanced contract. Indeed, we shall see that their zeal outran their discretion and their proper consideration for her; for they were but too anxious to use her gifts at the risk of over-straining them. Her popularity was at its height; she was pursued with enthusiasm. The musical authorities of Stockholm had no more to teach her; they were content to praise her as the perfect exponent of their art.

And, yet, what was it that worked within the girl's heart, and told her that all this was as nothing-told her that, far from having reached the end, she was not even at the beginning-told her that her art had secrets yet to unfold to her, and that this adulation which encompassed her was but a prophecy of what she ought to become hereafter? As she bowed in courteous acknowledgment of the loud plaudits of an enthusiastic theatre, she heard, above all the genial tumult, this "still, small voice" within, which said to her, "Yes! you may some day live to deserve that kindly, that encouraging applause; but to-day you know that, by rights, it is not yours. It is given you, in spite of yourself. But you have that in you which may, indeed, deserve to receive that which is generously offered you, in anticipation, to-day. Far away, over the sea, the secret is kept which will unlock the shut doors, and will set free your true self. There it is that Art will disclose the mystery, which is now felt but not perceived-the mystery that moves veiled behind the glory of to-day's success. " It was the inspiration of genius which spoke to her. She had but her own soul to trust to. She had no ideal, no articulate standard given her, by which to test herself; yet she knew her lack-she felt what she was missing. And, in so feeling, she knew, also, that, to discover the ideal, to win that which was lacking, all her present triumph must be surrendered-must be thrown to the winds. The voice within must be obeyed at all costs; out over the sea, far from home and its happy honours, she must seek, alone and undirected, the meaning of the mysterious summons. Surely the pressure of the prophetic words was upon her-