266 Chronicles of the Cape Fear River

Garden, it will be remembered, the hatter Genin made himself
famous, and later, rich, by paying $225 for the choice of seats,
described as “a very handsome spring cushion, crimson velvet
chair, placed right against the front of the centre post, and just
opposite to Jenny Lind,” in order that he might ever after be
thus visualized to the purchaser of hats. And the singer Ossian
F. Dodge outdistanced Genin by paying $625 for a similar
choice in Boston. But so far was Jenny Lind from mercenary
intent, that during the first eight weeks of her American tour
she gave more than $18,000 to charities—a magnificent scale of
benevolence kept up during her two years’ tour in this country.

December found her in Richmond, and her next engagement
was in Charleston, S. C., for the 26th and 29th of that month.
Wilmington was in feverish excitement, especially as the diva
must pass through this town. Should her neighbors, Richmond
and Charleston, so far o’ertop her? Not without supreme effort
on her part. Accordingly, at a meeting of prominent ladies and
gentlemen, a committee was appointed, and when the train from
Richmond arrived at Wilmington this committee appeared at
the depot with smiling countenances and a cart-load of flowers.
The elegant and genial spokesman, Mr. James S. Green, pre-
sented a bouquet in a gracious speech of welcome, and the charm-
ing Jenny smiled her appreciation. The journey from the Vir-
ginia city to Wilmington is described as the most uncomfortable
she had made thus far in America, the Wilmington and Weldon
Railroad having the reputation of being the worst in the United
States. A traveling companion of the famous singer, however,
described it as being newly laid, and, save for a short distance
over which the old timbers of the road were plainly felt, remark-

ably easy. ‘he car the party occupied as far as Weldon he

described as new, approximating somewhat the style in vogue
on other roads, but from Weldon to Wilmington they are said
to have been stowed away in a sort of caravanserai, described at
one time as “a huge and comfortless box with shelves for bed-
steads, something like the cabin of a Dutch slaop,” and at an-
other as “a gigantic clothes press.” With these and other dis-
comforts graphically named by her biographer freshly in mind,
it is likely that Jenny Lind valued all the more the compensa-
tion of a gracious reception at the end of her journey and that
she listened with gratifying interest to the momentous question
of the committee. Would she sing for Wilmington? She would
gladly if Mr. Barnum could arrange it, and Mr. Barnum pleas-

Interesting Memories 267

ingly acquiesced. “But, gentlemen,” said he, “what is the capac-
ity of your opera house?” “About one hundred and fifty seats,
but by utilizing the aisles two hundred can be provided,” they
told him, to which the showman laughingly replied, “Gen-
tlemen, my orchestra would fill a large part of that space!”
They withdrew to consider possible adjustments and shortly
returned with complaisancy, saying it was all arranged, they
would erect a platform in the centre of the street immediately
in front of the theatre, so that everybody might hear! The idea
was diverting and the fair Swede laughed uncontrollably at
being asked to sing to an open-air audience in the public streets,
but her warm heart quickened its beats at the thought of the
simplicity that conceived the plan. Her contract with Mr.

Barnum stipulated that she be allowed to hold concerts for
charity when she saw fit. If they had only told her that Wil-

mington had its orphans, its poor, and its sick, no doubt the
open-air performance would have received serious consideration.

They did not hear her sing, but they heard that marvelous
voice in speech and they saw her. And she—she saw them, a
people whose hospitality, simplicity, and inherent kindliness
have never been surpassed. She declined an invitation by Queen
Victoria to sing at a festival at court to come to America,
largely, as she said, to see the American people, and we fancy
that in the potpourri of precious impressions she carried away
went a bit of fragrance from Wilmington. Perhaps, too, she
regretted not accepting the open-air suggestion and waiting over
a day, for on the night she sailed south on the steamer Gladiator
from the Cape Fear city, there occurred one of the worst storms
ever known along these shores. Three ships were lost on the
Carolina coast about that time, and it was rumored that the
Gladiator had grounded on Cape Romain. She was thirty-four
hours making the trip to Charleston, which then took but seven-
teen under ordinary weather conditions. She was reported lost,
and the news was telegraphed to New York, but corrected a
dozen hours later; for, notwithstanding wind and weather, the
exceptional seamanship of Capt. J. B. Smith took her at last
into port at Charleston. Her tiller ropes were broken and she
was sweeping in on shore. Another half hour, it is said, would
probably have effected her complete destruction with all on
board, but Captain Smith steered her safely in and deposited
Jenny Lind and two hundred other passengers on shore, where
they were in a position to feel that seasickness is, after all, a
little better than drowning.