Mrs. Hall established her in the inner drawing-room, where was
a piano and a harp; and shortly after, our hostess came to me, and said
that Madam Goldschmidt wished to be introduced to me. There was a gentle
peremptoriness in the summons, that made it something like being
commanded into the presence of a princess; a great favor, no doubt, but
yet a little humbling to the recipient. However, I acquiesced with due
gratitude, and was presented accordingly. She made room for me on the
sofa, and I sat down, and began to talk.
Jenny Lind is rather tall,--quite tall, for a woman,--certainly no
beauty, but with sense and self-reliance in her aspect and manners. She
was suffering under a severe cold, and seemed worn down besides, so
probably I saw her under disadvantages. Her conversation is quite
simple, and I should have great faith in her sincerity; and there is
about her the manner of a person who knows the world, and has conquered
it. She said something or other about The Scarlet Letter; and, on my
part, I paid her such compliments as a man could pay who had never heard
her sing. . . . . Her conversational voice is an agreeable one, rather
deep, and not particularly smooth. She talked about America, and of our
unwholesome modes of life, as to eating and exercise, and of the
ill-health especially of our women; but I opposed this view as far as I
could with any truth, insinuating my opinion that we are about as healthy
as other people, and affirming for a certainty that we live longer.
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