The anxiety to see Mlle. Lind, when she was driving, was a serious embarrassment to her, and at the “public reception” days, arranged for her, throngs of ladies filled her drawing-rooms.  Costly presents were sent to her anonymously, and in every way the public displayed similar extravagance.  On the day of the first concert, in spite of the fierce downpour of rain, there were five thousand persons buying tickets; and the price paid for the first ticket to the first concert, six hundred dollars, constitutes the sole title to remembrance of the enterprising tradesman who thus sought to advertise his wares.

Nothing was talked of except Jenny Lind, and on the night of the first appearance, September 11th, seven thousand throats burst forth in frantic shouts of applause and welcome, as the Swedish Nightingale stepped on the Castle Garden stage in a simple dress of white, and as pallid with agitation as the gown she wore.  She sang “Casta Diva,” a duo with Belletti, from Rossini’s “Il Turco in Italia,” and the Trio Concertante, with two flutes, from Meyerbeer’s “Feldlager in Schliesen,” of which Moscheles had said that “it was, perhaps, the most astonishing piece of bravura singing which could possibly be heard.”  These pieces, with two Swedish national songs, were received with the loudest salvos of applause.  The proceeds of this first concert were twenty-six thousand dollars, of which Jenny Lind gave her share to the charitable institutions of New York, and, on learning that some of the members of the New York orchestra were in indigent circumstances, she generously made them a substantial gift.  Her beneficent actions during her entire stay in America are too numerous to detail.  Frequently would she flit away from her house quietly, as if about to pay a visit, and then she might be seen disappearing down back lanes or into the cottages of the poor.  She was warned to avoid so much liberality, as many unworthy persons took unfair advantage of her bounty; but she invariably replied, “Never mind; if I relieve ten, and one is worthy, I am satisfied.”  She had distributed thirty thousand florins in Germany; she gave away in England nearly sixty thousand pounds; and in America she scattered in charity no less than fifty thousand dollars.

To record the experiences of the Swedish Nightingale in the different cities of America would be to repeat the story of boundless enthusiasm on the part of the public, and lavish munificence on the part of the singer, which makes her record nobly monotonous.  There seemed to be no bounds to the popular appreciation and interest, as was instanced one night in Baltimore.  While standing on the balcony of her hotel bowing to the shouting multitude, her shawl dropped among them, and instantly it was torn into a thousand strips, to be preserved as precious souvenirs.