The “Lind” mania in the English capital during the spring of 1848 raged without diminution.  The anecdotes of her munificent charity, piety, and goodness filled the public prints and fed the popular idolatry.  She added to her repertoire this season the roles of Susanna in Mozart’s great comic opera, Elvira in “Puritani,” Adina in “L’Elisir d’Amore,” and Giulia in Spontini’s “Vestale.”  As Giulia she reached her high-water mark in tragedy, and as Adina in “L’Elisir” she was deliciously arch and fascinating.  After the opera had closed, she remained in England during the summer and winter, owing to the disturbed state of the Continent, and gave extended concert tours in the provinces, for which she received immense sums of money.  Many concerts she also devoted to charitable purposes, and splendid acknowledgments were made as gifts to her by corporations and private individuals in recognition of her lavish benevolence.  Jenny Lind had now determined to take leave of the lyric stage, and in the April season of 1849 she gave a limited season of farewell performances at Her Majesty’s Theatre.  The last appearance was on May 10th in her original character of Alice.  The opera-house presented on that night of final adieu one of those striking scenes which words can hardly depict without seeming to be extravagant.  The crowd was dense in every nook and corner of the house, including all the great personages of the realm.  The whole royal family were present, the Houses of Parliament had emptied themselves to swell the throng, and everybody distinguished in art, letters, science, or fashion contributed to the splendor of the audience.  When the curtain fell, and the deafening roar of applause, renewed again and again, had ceased, Jenny Lind came forward, led by the tenor Gardoni.  She retired, but was called again in front of the curtain, and bowed her acknowledgments.  A third time she was summoned, and this time she stood, her eyes streaming with tears, while the audience shouted themselves hoarse, so prolonged and irrepressible was the enthusiasm.

Now that the “Lind” fever is a thing of the past, it is possible to survey her genius as a lyric artist in the right perspective.  Her voice was of bright, thrilling, and sympathetic quality, with greater strength and purity in the upper register, but somewhat defective in the other.  These two portions of her voice she united, however, with great artistic dexterity, so that the power of the upper notes was not allowed to outshine the lower.  Her execution was great, though inferior to that of Persiani and the older and still greater singer, Catalani.  It appeared, perhaps, still greater than it was, on account of the natural reluctance of the voice.  Her taste in ornamentation was original and brilliant, but always judicious, a moderation not often found among great executive singers.  She composed all her own cadenzas, and many of them were of a character