Opera on the Move in the Nordic Countries during the Long 19th ...

230 Jens Hesselager
that they had received special permission to marry from the King: “de havde
løst Kongebrev” (Keller 1918, 20). No explanation is offered as to why special
permission (Kongebrev) was needed, but one reason would be if Pauline
was Jewish (see Schwarz Lausten, 202ff, and Landsarkivet, “Kongebrev”).
According to a document in the large international database FamilySearch,
it appears that Friedrike Charlotte Lichtenstein was baptised on 2 August
1818 in Berlin, i.e. a few weeks after her birth on 21 July. The parents, according
to this database, were Michael Heinrich Lichtenstein and Henriette
Luisa Grosse (FamilySearch, “Friedrike Charlotte Lichtenstein”). 14 It also
appears that the father, Michael Heinrich Lichtenstein, was himself baptised
on 18 May 1816, i.e. only two years before the birth of Friedrike Charlotte
and six months before the birth of her eldest brother, Ludwig Heinrich
Lichtenstein (FamilySearch, “Markus or Michael Heinrich Lichtenstein”
and “Ludwig Heinrich Lichtenstein”). This would indicate that Pauline’s
father, Michael Heinrich Lichtenstein, was born a non-Lutheran (i.e. possibly,
but not necessarily, a Jew) and converted in 1816 in order to marry
the pregnant Henriette Luisa Grosse. What does this say about Pauline’s
religious identity? Presumably the fact that she was baptised should make
her a bona fide Christian in the eyes of the law, regardless of whether her father’s
family was Jewish. But it is also possible that she was unable to prove
her Christian identity to the Danish authorities. Thus, there is a possibility
that these somewhat ambiguous circumstances could after all explain why
a so-called Kongebrev was needed for Henrik Rung and Pauline Lichtenstein
to marry in 1841.
In Sophie Keller’s portrait Pauline’s experience of being adopted, exiled
and growing up apart from her family in Berlin occasioned a certain melancholy
strain in her personality: “Ich denke an meinen Schicksal”, she is
reported to have said at one point, having been asked what was on her mind
– an utterance to which her daughter evidently attached significance (Keller
1918, p. 8). It would seem that Pauline Lichtenstein had a second identity,
one that was not talked about (whether Jewish, Catholic or something
else), which, figuratively speaking, formed a silent, unvoiced counterpoint
to her official life. Viewed in the light of such biographical details, the role
of Rachel could have functioned, in one way or another, as a figure of identification
for Pauline Rung and an opportunity to give voice to a second, possibly
more exotic identity. And reviewers, such as the one from Berlingske
Tidende, might have participated in a similar double-game.
14 This is consistent with information given about Pauline Rung in the article on Henrik
Rung in the online encyclopedia Den Store Danske (Ketting 2011).