tion of
the more stormy and vehement passions, it is probable that she was more
cognizant of her own limitations, than were her critics.

She was not handsome, but of pleasing aspect. A face of placid
sweetness, expressive features, soft, dove-like-blue eyes, and very
abundant, wavy, flaxen hair, made up a highly agreeable _ensemble_,
while the slender figure was full of grace. There was an air of virginal
simplicity and modesty in every movement which set her apart among her
stage sisters. To this her character answered in every line; for, moving
in the midst of a world which had watched every action, not the faintest
breath of scandal ever shaded the fair fame of this Northern lily.

The struggle for admission after the first night made the attempt to
get a seat except by long prearrangement an experience of purgatory.
Twenty-five pounds were paid for single boxes, while four or five
guineas were gladly given for common stalls. Hours were spent before the
doors of the opera-house on the chance of a place in the pit. It is said
that three gentlemen came up from Liverpool with the express purpose of
hearing the new _diva_ sing, spent a week in trying to obtain seats, and
returned without success. No such mania for a singer had ever fired the
phlegmatic blood of the English public. Articles of furniture and dress
were called by her name; portraits and memoirs innumerable of her were
published.

During the season she appeared in "Robert le Diable," "Sonnambula,"
"Lucia" "La Figlia del Reggimento," and "Norma," as well as in a new
opera by Verdi, "I Masnadieri," which even Jenny Lind's genius and
popularity could not keep on the surface. At the close of the season,
her manager, Lumley, presented her a magnificent testimonial of pure
silver, three feet in height, representing a pillar wreathed with
laurel, at the feet of which wore seated three draped figures, Tragedy,
Comedy, and Music. Her tour through the provinces repeated the sensation
and excitement of London. Manchester, Liverpool, Edinburgh, and
Dundee vied with the great capital in the most extravagant excesses
of admiration, and fifteen guineas were not infrequently paid for the
privilege of hearing her. For two concerts in Edinburgh Mlle. Lind
received one thousand pounds for her services, and the management made
twelve hundred pounds. Such figures are referred to simply as affording
the most tangible estimate of the extent and violence of the Lind fever.