The private life of operatic celebrities was as a rule no concern of the opera-going public, but the line was drawn at Lola Montez, whose engagement to dance at Drury Lane in 1843 was cancelled in deference to general protests. The ballet was an integral part and commanding attraction of the old Italian opera. The most wonderful account of this "explosion of all the upholsteries" has been given by Carlyle at a slightly later date. In the 'forties the shining lights were Taglioni--whose skirts were quite long--Cerito, Fanny Ellsler and Carlotta Grisi, cousin of the _prima donna_, a wonderful quartet on whose gyrations and levitations "Jenkins" showered all the adulatory epithets in his polyglot vocabulary. The skating ballet in _Le Prophète_, popular in 1849, is the subject of a charming little sketch in _Punch_, and this production was notable vocally for the appearance of Pauline Viardot-Garcia, the greatest actress, the most accomplished and enlightened musician, and the most interesting personality of all nineteenth century _prime donne_. Henriette Sontag, however, was the popular operatic heroine of the year, graceful, charming and still handsome, though no longer in her first youth,[31] a perfect singer, an incomparable _Susanna_ (as _Punch_ admitted), though lacking dramatic force--Sontag, of whom Catalani said that she was the first in her _genre_, but that her _genre_ was not the first. [Sidenote: Jenny Lind] Great singers came and went but _Punch_ never wavered in his allegiance to Jenny Lind. Though her career on the lyric stage was brief, she is more often and more enthusiastically mentioned than any other singer, and for reasons which are revealed in the following lines:-- THE NIGHTINGALE THAT SINGS IN THE WINTER Sweetest creature, in song without rival or peer, Far more inwardly vibrate thy notes than the ear, For there speaks in that music, pure, gentle, refined, The exquisite voice of a beautiful mind-- Of a spirit of earnestness, goodness and truth, Of a heart full of tender compassion and ruth, Ever ready to comfort, and succour, and bless, In sorrow and suffering, in want and distress. Now this Nightingale rare, in the winter who sings, Being not yet a seraph, is one without wings; And her name, which has travelled as wide as the wind, Is kind-hearted, generous, dear JENNY LIND.