M. Sterling Mackinlay

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.

MANUEL GARCIA, the Centenarian.

How much do those words imply!—words which it is impossible to pen without a feeling of awe.

Garcia, a member of that family of Spanish musicians whose combined brilliancy has probably never been equalled in the annals of the musical world. The father and founder of the family, renowned as one of the finest tenors of his day; as a prolific composer, and as a singing teacher of distinguished ability, as well as conductor and impressario; in fact, a fine vocalist and an equally fine musician, which in those days was something of a rara avis.

The eldest daughter, Maria Malibran, a contralto whose brief career was one series of triumphs, while her gifts as a composer were shared by her sister, Pauline Viardot-Garcia, whose singing drew forth the praise and admiration of all, and whose retirement from the stage and concert platform brought with it fresh honours in the field of teaching, wherein she showed herself a worthy exponent of the high ideals of the Garcias.

And what of Manuel himself? The subject of our Memoir has a triple claim that his name should be inscribed on the roll of fame. As professor of singing, he is acknowledged to have been the greatest of his time. In the musical firmament he has been the centre of a solar system of his own,—a sun round which revolved a group of planets, whose names are familiar to all: Jenny Lind, Maria Malibran, Mathilde Marchesi, Henriette Nissen, Charles Santley, Antoinette Sterling, Julius Stockhausen, Pauline Viardot, and Johanna Wagner—these are but a few of them.

Many, too, out of the number have themselves thrown off fresh satellites, such as CalvÈ, Eames, Henschel, Melba, Scheidemantel, van Rooy. One and all have owed a debt of eternal gratitude to Manuel Garcia and his system.

Again, as a scientific investigator he has given us the Laryngoscope, which Huxley placed among the most important inventions of the medical world. Indeed, it is no figure of speech, but a statement of demonstrable fact, that millions have been benefited by his work.

Thirdly, as a centenarian, he is without question the most remarkable of modern times.

Of the men who have attained to that rare age, those who possess any claim upon our interests beyond their mere weight of years are but a comparative handful.

Of musicians one alone has approached him in longevity, Giacomo Bassevi Cervetto, who died on January 14, 1783, within a few days of his 101st birthday, but with little distinction beyond this fact. As to the rest who go to make up the tale of the world's centenarians of recent years, it has been generally a case of the survival of the unfittest—

"In second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

How different Manuel Garcia when he celebrated his 100th birthday: in the early morning, received by the King at Buckingham Palace; at noon, entering the rooms of the Royal Medical Society with short, quick steps, walking unaided to the dais, mounting it with agility and then sitting for an hour, smiling and upright, while receiving honours and congratulations from all parts of the globe. Which of those who were present will ever forget how he attended the banquet that same evening, in such full possession of his faculties and bodily strength as to make his own reply to the hundreds assembled to celebrate the occasion? Could anything have been finer than this sight of Grand Old Age?

Now the fame of each individual member of the Garcia family would seem to demand that, in addition to the story of the Maestro's own career, considerable details should be given regarding that of his father and sisters. Surely the three last have claims to our attention beyond the mere fact of being in the one case a parent who exercised a very important influence upon Manuel Garcia's character and choice of career in early days, and who was, moreover, the fountainhead from which flowed the stream of musical talent that in the children broadened out into so grand a river,—in the other case, the sisters, who were bound not only by ties of kinship but by a debt of gratitude for the part which their brother played in their vocal training.

This brings us to the first point, SeÑor Garcia's position as a teacher. There is a trite proverb to the effect that the proof of the pudding is in the eating. It is so in the present case. One can state the fact that he has been a great master, one can lay down a general outline of his teaching and applaud the soundness of his methods, but after all the outer world will in such matters be apt to judge by results alone. Or let us put it in another way. His knowledge is like the foundations of a house: experts may examine it closely and admire good points, but to a great extent the successes of his pupils are the bricks by which alone a wide reputation is built up.

For this reason I propose to sketch briefly the career of the more famous among those who studied under the old Spaniard, and in doing so I trust that the above circumstances will be considered sufficient excuse for the digressions which will be made at various points.

We now come to a second consideration.

The discovery of the laryngoscope, owing to its far-reaching results, is of such importance that the chapter dealing with it is bound to contain matter which will naturally appeal to the special rather than to the general reader. The desire that the many may not suffer for the sake of the few to a greater extent than is absolutely necessary has prompted me to quote but briefly from the text of the important technical papers which he presented to the Royal Society in 1854 and to the International Medical Congress in 1881.

In the former of these he sets forth a detailed account of the results which he himself obtained in connection with the human voice from the use of the instrument; in the latter he has told the story of the invention and given a full description of the laryngoscope.

Last of all, there is the question of his remarkable age. As a centenarian, he passed through many great historical events, and witnessed a number of changes not only in the musical world, but in the general advance of civilisation. To mention but a few cases of the former: his childhood in Spain was passed amid the scenes of the Napoleonic invasion, followed by those of the Peninsular War, while his boyhood in Naples caused him to witness the execution of the ex-king Murat, a few months after the despotic brother-in-law's final overthrow at Waterloo. His first visit to England was made when George III. was on the throne; his nineteenth year saw the death of Louis XVIII.; while his arrival in America to take part in the first season of Italian opera ever given there was at a time when New York was a town of 150,000 inhabitants, and the United States were preparing to celebrate the jubilee of the Declaration of Independence. In early manhood he joined the French Expedition against Algiers, and on his return found himself in the midst of the July Revolution, which resulted in the expulsion of Charles X. from the capital and the placing of Louis Philippe on the throne; while he spent his last months in Paris as a member of the National Guard during another revolution, that of 1848, which ended in the flight of Louis and the proclamation of the French Republic.

The first fifteen years of residence in London saw the English nation throw down the glove to Russia, enter on the Crimean War, and bring it to a successful close with the fall of Sebastopol, which was followed by such events as the Indian Mutiny; the accession of William I. to the throne of Prussia, with Prince Bismarck as his chief adviser; the capture of Pekin; the American Civil War; the death of the Prince Consort, and two years later the marriage of the heir to the throne of England to the beautiful Princess of the Royal House of Denmark.

He was in his sixty-first year when Lord Palmerston died; as for the Franco-Prussian War and the Siege of Paris, they were looked on by him in his old age as things of but yesterday; while at various periods of his life he resided in Madrid, Naples, Paris, New York, Mexico, and London.

Again, in his work as a teacher, there came for lessons not merely the children of old pupils, but many even whose parents and grandparents had studied under him; while before his life was brought to a close England had been ruled by five successive sovereigns.

His father, whom we shall refer to in this Memoir as the elder Garcia, was born at Seville on January 22, 1775—over a hundred and thirty years ago. At the time of his birth Seville could not boast a single piano. Such a thing seems hardly credible to us who live in the twentieth century, when it is the exception rather than the rule to come across a house that does not boast an instrument, which is at any rate sufficiently recognisable from its general contour for one to feel justified in saying, "Let it pass for a piano."

Whence the elder Garcia obtained his musical talent it is impossible to learn. Whatever the previous generations may have been, there is no record of their having made any mark among the musicians of their time. Garcia is a fairly common Spanish name, and we find mention of several musicians of the eighteenth century, and even earlier, who bore that cognomen; none of these, however, can possibly have had any direct relationship to the family in which we are interested, and for an obvious reason. "Garcia" was only a nom de guerre which had been taken by the founder of the family when he entered upon a musical career, his baptismal name having been Manuel Vicente del Popolo Rodriguez. The fame of the new name, however, soon eclipsed the old, and hence in due course it came to be adopted by him and his descendants as their regular surname.

In the spring of 1781 the "elder" Garcia, being now six years old, became a chorister in the cathedral of his native town. Here he quickly began to display an extraordinary talent and precocity, his first musical training being received at the hands of Antonio Ripa, and continued under Juan Almarcha, who succeeded Ripa as Maestro di Cappella at the cathedral. These two men were considered the first teachers in Seville, and under their able tuition his powers developed so rapidly, that even in his early teens he was already acquiring a reputation in his town not only as singer, but as composer and chef d'orchestre.

During the years which Garcia was thus spending in patient study, the neighbouring kingdom of France was approaching nearer and nearer to that vast upheaval which was to bring such fatal consequences. The populace had long been smouldering with discontent against the hated aristocrats, and at last in 1789 the country flamed up in that terrible revolution which culminated in that wonderful episode, the storming of the Bastille on July 14.

When this historical event took place the elder Garcia was in his fifteenth year. Two years later he made his dÉbut at the theatre of Cadiz in a "tonadilla" into which a number of his own compositions had been introduced. Not long after this he made his first appearance at Madrid in an oratorio, while his earliest opera was performed there under the title of "Il Preso." Such was his success in the Spanish capital that he was quickly recognised as one of the greatest tenors his country had ever produced.

The following year, 1792, found France overtaken by a succession of catastrophes: the invasion by Austria and Prussia, the storming of the Tuileries, the September massacre, and that tragic end of the French Monarchy, for the time being, with the execution of Louis XVI.

The last years of the eighteenth century were spent by the elder Garcia in building up an ever-increasing reputation throughout Spain; while during this period European history continued to raise fresh landmarks for future generations to bear in wondering memory, for when he was nineteen there came the execution of Robespierre, and the splendid victory of Lord Howe over the French fleet, followed in 1789 by another glorious naval achievement in the Battle of the Nile.

The first years of the new century brought with them the close of the elder Garcia's bachelor life with his romantic marriage to Joaquina SitchÈs. The story of the meeting and courtship is one of singular charm.

Joaquina, who was Spanish by birth, was gifted with a somewhat mystical temperament, and early declared her wish to pass her life in a convent. Her parents raised no objection to her taking the veil, and she forthwith commenced her novitiate.

In due course the time arrived when, according to custom, she must go out into the world again for a while, in order to prove whether her desire for the religious life was genuine. Accordingly the beautiful young novice went much into society, making her appearance at balls, parties, theatres, and the other gaieties of the capital.

One evening she was taken for the first time to hear Garcia sing. He made a deep impression upon her, and an introduction followed, which led to her falling violently in love with the singer. He on his side became no less completely a victim to her charms, and lost no time in declaring his passion, and that was the end, or should one not perhaps say, the beginning? Joaquina paid a last visit to the convent to bid good-bye to the mother-superior, and soon afterwards the lovers were united.

SeÑorita SitchÈs was possessed of great natural gifts as a singer, and after her marriage became desirous of associating herself with his career. She therefore determined to put her musical talents to use and went on the stage, where she soon became a worthy second to her husband.

And so we come to the year 1805, which brings with it the birth of a son, the subject of this Memoir.

MANUEL GARCIA'S MOTHER.
MANUEL GARCIA'S MOTHER.

CHAPTER II.
CHILDHOOD IN SPAIN.
(1805-1814.)

MANUEL PATRICIO RODRIGUEZ GARCIA—to give his full name—was born on March 17, 1805, four days before the death of Greuze. The place of his birth was not Madrid, as has been so often stated, but Zafra, in Catalonia.

What of the musical world in 1805? Beethoven had not yet completed his thirty-seventh year, Schubert was a boy of eight, Auber, Bishop, Charles Burney (who had been born in 1726), Callcott, Cherubini, Dibdin, HalÉvy, "Papa" Haydn, Meyerbeer, Paganini, Rossini, Spohr, Weber, these were all living, and many of them had yet to become famous. As for Chopin, Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Brahms, they were not even born; while Gounod, Wagner, and Verdi were still mere schoolboys when Garcia was a full-blown operatic baritone.

The year of Manuel's birth was the one in which the elder Garcia composed one of his greatest successes, a mono-drama entitled "El Poeta Calculista." It was this work which contained the song that achieved such popularity throughout Spain, "Yo che son contrabandista." When the tenor used to sing this air he would accompany himself upon the guitar, and by the fire and verve with which the whole performance was given, he made the audiences shout themselves hoarse with excitement.

Among the most enthusiastic of his listeners were the weak old dotard Charles IV., King of Spain, and his son, the bigoted and incompetent Ferdinand, who had already made himself a popular favourite and commenced his intrigues against the Throne. Above all, one must not forget Don Manuel de Godoy, Prince of the Peace, who was carrying on a shameful intercourse with the Queen, and was undoubtedly at the time the most powerful man in the kingdom.

The two most faithful allies of England at the beginning of the nineteenth century were the small kingdoms of Portugal and Sweden.

In view of the sea-power which the Island Empire had gained since the Battle of Trafalgar, Napoleon decided that the strength of this alliance must be broken. Accordingly, on October 29, 1807, the Treaty of Fontainebleau was signed, by which it was agreed that the combined armies of France and Spain should conquer Portugal. The little kingdom was then to be divided into three parts: the northern provinces were to be given to the King of Etruria in exchange for his dominions in Italy, which Napoleon desired to annex; the southern districts were to be formed into an independent kingdom for Godoy, the Prince of the Peace; and the central portion was to be temporarily held by France.

In pursuance of this secret treaty a French army under General Junot marched rapidly across the Peninsula.

On receiving the news that the invaders were close to Lisbon, the Prince Regent, with his mother, the mad queen, Maria I., sailed for Brazil with an English squadron. Hardly had the Regent left the Tagus when Junot entered Lisbon on November 20, meeting with a favourable reception at the hands of the Portuguese, who resented the departure of the Prince Regent, and had no idea that there was a secret design to dismember the kingdom.

When the Franco-Spanish plans had thus reached a successful point in their development, the elder Garcia decided that the time was ripe for him to seek that wider success which he was ambitious of achieving. He had already made his name in Spain both as a singer and composer; but this did not satisfy him. Paris had long been the goal on which he had set his mind. And what more favourable opportunity was likely to arise than the present, when the successes of the alliance would naturally predispose the French people to give a warm welcome to any Spaniards who visited the country at such a moment? Accordingly he made his last appearance in Madrid in a performance of oratorio, and at the close of 1807 set out for Paris.

Soon after his arrival in the French capital he had an opportunity of making his dÉbut, for on February 11 he appeared in PaËr's "Griselda." How bold a stroke this was may be realised from the fact that, apart from his never having properly studied singing up to this time, he had not yet sung in Italian.

The applause of Napoleon in the French capital proved to be no less enthusiastic than had been that of Charles IV. in Madrid—indeed, so great was the tenor's success that he was appointed to the post of directeur du chant in less than three weeks, as well as becoming the leading tenor at the ThÉÂtre Italien.

The following month brought with it the birth of his first daughter, Maria Felicita, who was destined to become famous under the name of Malibran. Some ten months later the mono-drama, "El Poeta Calculista" was given in Paris for the first time, on the occasion of the elder Garcia's benefit. Its reception may be judged from the fact that the performance of the operetta had to be interrupted for several minutes, so greatly was the singer fatigued by the constant ovations and insistent demands for encores. The success which he achieved during this first season in Paris laid the foundation of a world-wide fame.

Now, when SeÑor and SeÑora Garcia left Spain at Christmas 1807, they decided that it would be best not to take with them so young a child as Manuel then was, and accordingly he was left behind in Madrid with his grandparents, in whose charge he remained until his tenth year. This resulted in his passing through some historic scenes, by the memories of which, in his old age, he formed a link with the past which seemed wellnigh incredible.

Those were years of war and bloodshed, for, during his childhood, Spain was convulsed first by the throes of the Napoleonic invasion, and then by the successive campaigns of the Peninsular War.

Let us take a glimpse of the swift march of events, of which he must have not only heard reports, but in many cases been the actual witness during his sojourn in Madrid.

First, however, we will try to get some idea of the Spanish capital as it was in the early years of the nineteenth century.

We obtain the best impression from a book published in the year 1835, "embodying sketches of the metropolis and its inhabitants," by a resident officer.

The most striking feature of Madrid at this time, according to this writer, was the irregularity in the height of the buildings. It was not uncommon to see a wretched tumble-down-looking house supporting itself against the palace of a grandee, displaying its checkered, moss-grown, weather-stained tiling in mockery of the marble and sculpture of its next-door neighbour.

"The quarters of Madrid known under the name of the 'Rastro' and 'Barrios Bajos' presented a most unwholesome and ungainly appearance, being chiefly composed of hovels, with mud walls and tiled roofing, which contained but a ground-floor, and were inhabited by the dregs of the population. They were the purlieus of vice and crime, and were not only a disgrace to the capital, but would have been so to any sixth-rate town in the kingdom. This, and the great disparity in the buildings of Madrid at that time, may be accounted for by calling to mind the capricious way it commenced its importance as a capital.

"It had struggled on, a second-rate town, until the Emperor Charles V. of Germany (Charles I. of Spain), suffering under a severe fit of the ague, which he had caught in Valladolid, the royal residence at that time, came to Madrid for change of air, and recovered; in consequence of which he continued to reside there till his death. Philip II. decided its prosperity by ultimately making it the seat of the Court, and after this it was augmented by bits and scraps as a building mania came on, or as the times permitted."

The same discrepancy prevailed in the style and mode of living: everything was in extremes, both in houses, equipages, clothing, eating, and drinking. Luxury and misery, comfort and squalidness, were constantly elbowing each other.

As to the inhabitants, had an Englishman been transported blindfolded into Spain and his bandage taken off when set down in Madrid, he might readily have believed himself in a seaport town from the great variety of costumes.

"The Valencian, with his gay-coloured handkerchief rolled about his head in the Moorish fashion, a brilliantly striped mantà thrown gracefully over his shoulder; the Maragato, looking for all the world like a well-fed Dutch skipper in flesh and costume; the man of Estremadura, his broad buff belt buckled about his loins, and a string of sausages in his hand; the Catalonian's wild Albanian look and cut, a red woollen cap falling on his shoulder in the way of the Neapolitan mariners; the Andalusian's elegant dress, swarthy face, and immeasurable whiskers; Galicia's heavy, dirty son, dragging after him at every step a shoe weighing from two to three pounds, including nails, doublings, and other defences against a treacherous and ruinous pavement. All these might well have been taken for the inhabitants of regions hundreds of leagues asunder, differing as essentially in language as in costume."

But one of the most remarkable features of Madrid was the predominance of large convents in the finest situations and best streets, often monopolising more space than should have fallen to their share. The fronts of the holy houses extended themselves widely up and down the street, causing a dead blank, and destroying the symmetry of the calle. The monotonous appearance was, however, frequently relieved by the close-shaven heads of some of the "fathers" appearing at the little windows of their cells, condescending to look upon what was passing outside—faces, some fat, ruddy, and shining, others pale and sallow, with strange black beards and flashing eyes.

The nunneries, in point of usurping place and selecting the most frequented quarters of the town, yielded nothing to the male convents. There were no less than three of them in the Calle Alcala, perched in the very midst of the thoroughfare to and from the Prado.

The sisters used to have a number of latticed windows towards the street, whence they might see without being seen. These celestial spouses, as they called themselves, were very troublesome neighbours, for they were so chary of being seen, even when walking in their garden, that, not contented with running up a wall twenty feet high at least and spoiling a whole street, they insisted on doing the same service to all the houses which had the misfortune to be within eyeshot of them. Hence there would be seen whole balconies completely boxed up with sheet-iron opposite a long dead wall, with a few ascetic-looking cypresses peeping over it.

Here, then, we have some of the principal features of Madrid at that time, and it was not till several years after Manuel Garcia had left the capital that the first stir towards improving the place was made; for we read how in 1835 "commodious flagways are being laid down for the convenience and security of passengers. Moreover, the convents are to be pulled down," the same writer continues. "Few of these buildings merit respect from the shovels. Their architecture is vulgar and extravagant where the long dead walls do not constitute their only claim to admiration. Still I must confess I like to see a host of cupolas and minarets sparkling and towering in the glorious sunset. Nor does the flowing costume of the friars—black, blue, white, and grey—show amiss in the motley crowd of picturesque costumes paraded in the streets. Murillo has immortalised the cowl and cassock, and custom has rendered both favourites with the mass of the people, who will long regret the monks and their soup doled out at the convent gate."

And now to return to the point at which we left our narrative to set down these few details of Madrid at the time Manuel Garcia was residing there with his grandparents.

Spain had been the consistent ally of France since the Treaty of Basle in 1795. Nevertheless, Napoleon deliberately determined to dethrone his faithful friend, Charles IV.

Court intrigues gave him a splendid opportunity for interfering in the affairs of Spain. The heir to the throne, Ferdinand, Prince of the Austrians, hated his mother's lover, Godoy, and for sharing in a plot against the favourite was thrown into prison. He appealed for help to Napoleon, and Charles IV., on his side, did the same. Upon this, Napoleon began to move his troops across the Pyrenees, and a French army, under the command of Murat, approached Madrid. The population of the Spanish capital at once rose in insurrection and maltreated Godoy, who fell into its hands. Manuel Garcia was at this time just entering his fourth year, and the rising which he thus witnessed was one of his earliest memories.

Charles IV. at once abdicated, and was quickly forced to cede the crown to "his friend and ally," Napoleon, who conferred it on his brother Joseph, King of Naples, on June 6th.

But it was one thing to proclaim Joseph King of Spain, another to place him in power. The patriotism of the Spanish people was stirred to its depths, and they declined to accept a new monarch supported by French troops. In every quarter insurrections broke out and juntos were formed.

One was able to get a graphic picture of the horrors of that outbreak from the reminiscences which SeÑor Garcia used to give, for it made an impression on his childhood which remained undimmed throughout the successive years of his life. Indeed, it was more than ninety years later that I recall his speaking of these scenes one afternoon when the ill-starred war, which his beloved country was at the time carrying on against the United States, brought to his mind the memory of that other war nearly a century before.

"During the weeks which succeeded Joseph Bonaparte's assumption of the Spanish throne," he said, "there arose great bitterness between the peasants and the invaders. Daily, when the roll-call was read, a number of French soldiers failed to answer to their names: during the preceding night the unhappy men would have been murdered in their beds by the inmates of the houses in which they had been quartered in the surrounding villages."

The French exacted terrible reprisals for this, and he vividly recalled the long line of men, youths, and even boys who were forced to run the gauntlet between the rows of soldiers on their way to wholesale execution. "Shoot every one old enough to hold a gun." So ran the cruel order, given out day after day to the soldiers in many districts.

On the 2nd of May a wholesale massacre of the French took place in Madrid, and the survivors were driven out of the town by the mob. In consequence of this, Murat was forced to retire with his soldiers beyond the Ebro, while the province of Asturias rose en masse.

But mobs and undisciplined militia can never stand against regular troops. The Spanish army was defeated, and on the 20th of July young Garcia witnessed the entrance of Joseph Bonaparte into the capital as King of Spain.

That same day, however, brought serious disaster to one of the flying columns which had been sent out in various directions. The Spanish insurgents at once rose in every quarter, and a guerilla warfare was begun which proved more fatal to the French army than regular defeats would have been. Napoleon for the first time had to fight a nation in arms, and Joseph Bonaparte was forced to evacuate Madrid within three weeks of making his royal entry, and to retreat beyond the Ebro, as Murat had done two months before.

Here he was joined by his brother-in-law with 135,000 men, and a rapid advance was made on Madrid, with the inevitable result that the Spanish capital was forced to capitulate, and on December 13 the young Manuel had the excitement of seeing the entry of the great Napoleon into the town at the head of the French troops.

The events of the next three years of the Peninsular War were not witnessed by him, for the place remained in the hands of the French until 1812, when he saw Madrid evacuated by Bonaparte, and occupied on August 12 by Wellington and his troops after the battle of Salamanca.

With his main army the English general now advanced on Burgos, which, however, resisted all his assaults; and the Anglo-Portuguese army had to retire once more into Portugal, while for the last time Joseph returned to the Spanish capital.

In the summer of 1813 Wellington broke up from his quarters, and, marching in a north-easterly direction, attempted to cut off all communication between France and Madrid. The movement completely overthrew the French domination in Spain, and Joseph Bonaparte fled with all the troops he could collect. Wellington followed, and came up with the French army at Vittoria, where he defeated them.

This victory, by which the invaders were driven back into France, was followed by a burst of national enthusiasm. The Spanish guerillas destroyed every isolated French post, and on October 8, 1813, Wellington crossed the French borders with his army.

A few months later Ferdinand VII. was restored to the throne of Spain.

Such were the events through which his native land was passing during the childhood of Manuel Garcia, and which he was able to recall in after life.

What memories and experiences must he have had to pour into the ears of his parents when, in the summer of 1814, he was summoned to join them at Naples, where they had settled two years previously, having been forced to leave Paris owing to the strong feeling against Spain!

MANUEL GARCIA'S FATHER.
MANUEL GARCIA'S FATHER.

CHAPTER III.
NAPLES.
(1814-1816.)

WHEN Manuel Garcia joined his parents in Italy in the summer of 1814, being at the time in his tenth year, he found Naples under the rule of King Murat.

Here he saw for the first time his sister Maria, who was now six years old, while his father he found installed in the position of principal tenor in the chapel choir of King Murat. The elder Garcia had held this post for about two years, having been appointed immediately on his arrival from Paris. Since then he had been devoting himself to a complete study of the art of singing under his friend and teacher, Ansani.

This celebrated tenor was able to hand on to him the Italian vocal traditions of that "Bel Canto" school which had come down from the old Neapolitan maestro, Porpora.

Soon after Manuel came to Italy he was taken by his father to see Ansani, who not only heard him sing, but gave him a few informal lessons. It was a case of winter and spring, for while the pupil was in his tenth year, the teacher was approaching his seventieth. With this fact we are brought face to face with an almost incredible link with the past. Ansani was nearly twenty when Porpora died, in his eighty-second year. A remark which Manuel Garcia once made rather points to the possibility that Ansani may have had a few lessons from Porpora himself. Whether this was absolutely true I know not,—at any rate it may well have been so. Accept the supposition, and those who had the honour of studying under the "centenarian" would at once be placed in a position to say that they were pupils of one whose master had himself received lessons from a man born in 1687. The possibility is a fascinating one.

Giovanni Ansani himself was an interesting personality. Born in Rome about the middle of the eighteenth century, it has been reported that he once met Bach. As, however, the German composer died in the year 1750, about the time that Ansani was still busying himself with the feeding-bottle—or its eighteenth-century equivalent—the story must be regarded with some suspicion, to say the least of it.

After a musical training received in Italy, he sang in various parts of the Continent. Twenty years before the close of the century he made his appearance in London, and at once took the first place. He soon left, however, on account of disputes with Roncaglia.

In 1781 he returned to England, and Dr Burney, who heard him sing in that year, has described him as the sweetest, albeit one of the most powerful, tenors of his generation. He was a spirited actor, and had a full, fine-toned, and commanding voice, while, according to Gervasoni, he had a very rare truth of intonation, great power of expression, and most perfect method both of voice emission and vocalisation. His wife, Maccherini, was also a singer, and accompanied him to London on his second visit. He himself was always noted for a quarrelsome disposition, and as a prima donna his wife had an almost equally bad temper. Such jealousy in fact existed between them that, when either was applauded for singing, the other was accustomed to go into the pit and hiss.

In 1784 Ansani appeared at Florence, and toured Italy. At the age of fifty he retired and settled in Naples, where he devoted himself to teaching. It was some twelve years later that he began to give lessons to the elder Garcia.

When Manuel joined his parents, he at once commenced to study singing under his father's guidance. The training of those days was a much slower process than that which is deemed necessary at the present time. Months, indeed years, would be spent in the practice of simple solfeggi, to be followed by exercises in rhythm and studies for intonation.

The monotony of the first portion of this training evidently became very wearisome in time, for SeÑor Garcia would afterwards recall how one day, after being made to sing an endless variety of ascending scales, his desire for a change became so great that he could not resist bursting out, "Oh dear! mayn't I sing down the scale even once?" The training of those days was indeed a hard one, but it turned out artists who had a very wonderful command over their voices.

After a time Manuel began to find these severe studies irksome. He seems, moreover, to have had no particular vocation for the lyrical stage, and the bent of his mind, even at that early period, had a leaning towards science.

As a boy, he had a soprano voice of beautiful quality, and it has been asserted that during the stay in Italy he was appointed to a place in the cathedral choir. Absolute verification of this statement is practically impossible to obtain, though there seems no reason for doubting its truth. On the other hand, there is a strong likelihood that it may have been confused with the fact that the elder Garcia (whose name was also Manuel) was in the chapel choir.

From this time the training of his voice continued practically without intermission, under his father's tuition, till his twentieth year. It was largely due to the fact that work was not stopped during that dangerous period at the commencement of puberty, that he assigned the break-down of his voice in after years.

The elder Garcia took the greatest delight and pride in the early education and musical training of his son, and among many other valuable lessons, he impressed upon him that a singer must not only know how to use his voice, but must, above all, be a thorough musician.

As we have already seen, Manuel was taken to see Ansani, who gave him a few lessons. In addition to this, much help was received from Zingarelli, when the elder Garcia was too busy to take him. His intelligent brain could therefore make a blend of Spanish and Italian methods. To this he added in after life his own observations on the human voice, and applied the scientific theories which he formed and eventually corroborated by means of his laryngoscope. It was by the wise combination of this knowledge that he was able to evolve the magnificent Method which produced Jenny Lind.

Zingarelli was a man whose name is worth pausing over for a moment, for some episodes of his life are of considerable interest. In 1804 he had succeeded Guglielmi as Maestro di Cappella of the Sistine Chapel in Rome.

When Napoleon in the zenith of his imperial power gave his son the pompous title of "King of Rome," he ordered rejoicings throughout his kingdom, and a "Te Deum" was arranged to be sung at St Peter's in Rome. When, however, the authorities, both French and Italian, were assembled for the performance of this servile work, Zingarelli refused to have anything to do with it, and added that nothing would induce him to acknowledge the rule of the Corsican usurper. Upon this he was arrested, and, by Napoleon's orders, taken to Paris. Here he was immediately set free and granted a pension, owing to the fact that Napoleon preferred his music to that of any other composer.

In 1810 he left Paris for Naples, where three years later he was appointed director of the Royal College of Music, and he was holding this important post when Manuel came from Spain. Some eighteen months later, just before the Garcia family left for Paris, he succeeded Paisiello as Maestro di Cappella at the Neapolitan Cathedral; and these two positions he continued to hold until his death at the age of eighty-five.

During the sojourn in Italy the elder Garcia was not only in Murat's private choir, but was also primo tenore of the King's Opera Company at the San Carlo. I remember SeÑor Garcia one day giving an amusing account of his father's first appearance there.

Before he set out for his opening rehearsal he had come to the conclusion that it would be a splendid thing if he could hit upon some way of proving to the members of the orchestra that he was not one of the ordinary small fry possessed of a voice and little else. He wanted to gain their respect both as a musician and as a singer. This is how he managed to accomplish his desire.

His opening aria in the opera to be rehearsed was in the key of E flat. The orchestra played the introductory bars, and waited with a casual interest for the new singer's opening phrase. The tenor commenced, but, instead of doing so in the key in which they were playing, he began to sing a semitone higher, in E natural. At first they were horrified at the discords which resulted. Gradually, however, as the aria went on, and the vocalist still sang exactly a semitone above the key in which they were playing, it began to dawn upon them that, instead of being sharp through nervousness or lack of ear, he was keeping a half tone too high intentionally throughout the piece. Consequently, when they heard him continue in E natural, without a moment's hesitation, or a single false note (for so great a musician was he that he could abstract himself entirely from his surroundings and from the sound of the instruments), their disgust turned to surprise, then admiration, and finally enthusiasm. When the aria was concluded there was an enormous burst of applause and the wildest excitement among them all, for they saw what a really great singer they had found in this newcomer. Of course he sang the remainder of his part in the proper key, but by this novel entry he won the lasting respect of his comrades.

The anecdote afforded a good illustration of his exceptional powers. The elder Garcia was certainly a wonderful man, and in some ways a unique figure in the history of music, for it is doubtful if any other singer has duplicated his extraordinary talent and versatility. Attention has already been called to the fact that he was conductor and impresario. As a composer he was responsible for over forty operas, of which number seventeen were Spanish, nineteen Italian, and seven French; and in many cases he was even responsible for the libretto. The greater number of these works were performed in Spain, France, and America.

When he was in Paris "El Poeta Calculista" was given, as we have already said, with the greatest success in 1809, and three years later "The Caliph of Bagdad" received no less appreciation. His power as an actor was equal to that as a singer, while his Spanish temperament gave a fire to his impersonations which could not but awaken enthusiasm. "J'aime la fureur andalouse de cet homme," wrote a contemporary critic; "il aime tout."

But of all his qualities that which perhaps stood out most was a remarkable gift of extemporisation. It was this which first attracted the notice of Rossini, and led him to write the tenor rÔle in "Elisabeth" for the elder Garcia. The result was so satisfactory that when he set to work on his next opera, "Il Barbiere di Seviglia," he wrote the part of Almaviva specially for him.

The story of this production, as Manuel Garcia related it, was an interesting one.

In the December of 1815 Rossini had bound himself to produce a new opera by the 20th of the following month. He hesitated at first about accepting a libretto which Paisiello had treated so successfully, but having obtained that composer's permission he wrote the entire score in a fortnight. To avoid all appearance of rivalry with Paisiello he named his work first of all, "Almaviva, or The Useless Precaution"; and it was accordingly produced under this title in Rome at the Argentina Theatre on February 5, 1816, with the following cast:—

Rossini	Signora Giorgi Righetti.
Berta	Signorina Rossi.
Figaro	Signor Luigi Zamboni.
Bartolo	Signor Botticelli.
Basilio	Signor Vitarelli.
Count Almaviva	Signor Garcia.

The theatre was packed with the adherents of the older composer, who resented the new effort as an intrusion on his rights. In consequence of this the work was unmercifully damned, but it was kept on the stage and continually grew in favour until it became one of the most popular comic operas ever written.

These two operas, "Elisabeth" and "Il Barbiere," were not by any means the only ones in which the elder Garcia undertook the tenor rÔle at the initial performance, for in the course of the long career which followed he had the honour of creating a number of other parts.

As a singer, according to his son, his forte lay in the rendition of the lighter and more florid music, the voice being remarkable for its extraordinary flexibility. It was this faculty which gave his inventive powers their full scope in the extemporisations which he was wont to introduce into the various arie. This custom, it may be well to point out, was quite in accordance with the tastes and actual wishes of the composers of that time.

Among the old musicians it used to be customary to write a mere outline or suggestion of the voice part. Particularly was this the case when there was a return to the original theme, while it applied equally to the conventional ending found in nearly all arie of that time. The singers were expected to elaborate the simple melody given them, and to raise upon this foundation a graceful edifice, adorned with what ornaments their individual taste dictated, and suited to their own powers of execution.

The following illustration will prove the truth of the above assertion. It is a story from the lips of the maestro.

While his father, the elder Garcia, was at Naples, one of the old Italian composers came to produce a new opera.

At the opening rehearsal the tenor was given his part to read at sight. When his first aria had been reached he sang it off with perfect phrasing and feeling, but exactly note for note as written. After he had finished the composer said, "Thank you, signer, very nice, but that was not at all what I wanted." He asked for an explanation, and was informed that the melody which had been written down was intended merely as a skeleton which the singer should clothe with whatever his imagination and artistic instinct prompted. The writer of the music asked him to go through it again, and this time to treat it exactly as though it were his own composition.

The elder Garcia was skilful at improvising: consequently, in giving the aria for the second time, he made a number of alterations and additions, introducing runs, trills, roulades, and cadenzas, all of which were performed with the most brilliant execution. This time, when the end of the music was reached, the old composer shook him warmly by the hand. "Bravo! Magnificent! That was my music, as I wished it to be given."

It may be noted that Lord Mount-Edgcumbe, in his 'Musical Reminiscences' (published in 1824), refers more than once to the same thing. In speaking of the famous male soprano, Pacchierotti, who made his dÉbut in London in 1778, the following passage occurs:—

His voice was an extensive soprano, full and sweet.... His powers of execution were great; but he had too good taste and too good sense to make a display of them where it would have been misapplied, confining it to one bravura song (aria d'agilitÀ) in each opera, conscious that the chief delight of singing lay in touching expression and exquisite pathos.... He could not sing a song twice in exactly the same way, yet never ... introduced an ornament that was not judicious and appropriate to the composition.

Again Lord Mount-Edgcumbe writes:—

But to return to the elder Garcia and his family.

It was during this stay at Naples that little Maria made her first public appearance, when she was barely five years old. The anecdote was one which Manuel Garcia was very fond of relating.

The opera in which the diminutive vocalist made her dÉbut was PaËr's "Agnese," in which there was a child's part.

In the second act there is a scene where the husband and wife have quarrelled and are reunited through the intervention of their daughter. The tiny Malibran attended the rehearsals and knew the whole opera by heart. On the night of the performance the prima donna either forgot her part or hesitated a moment. Lo! the little girl instantly took up the melody, and sang with such vigour and resonance that the entire house heard her. The prima donna was about to interrupt when the audience shouted, "Bravo! don't stop her. Let her go on."

It was a period in which the public loved infant prodigies, both musical and dramatic, and Marietta was actually permitted to sing the part of Agnese throughout the rest of the scene—a piece of audacity which delighted the hearers and called forth an exhibition of true Italian enthusiasm. Two years after this the tiny musician commenced to study solfeggi with Panseron, while HÉrold gave her the first instruction on the piano.

In the autumn of the year 1815 an event occurred which brought the Garcia family into a vivid realisation of the changes which had been taking place in European affairs during the earlier part of the year, with the battle of Waterloo.

Scarcely had the news of Napoleon's downfall reached Naples when the townsfolk witnessed the closing scene in the life of his brother-in-law. The month in which Napoleon landed in France King Murat declared war against Austria, whose queen, it will be remembered, had but recently died. He was defeated at Tolentino, and retired first to France, then to Corsica. In the autumn the brilliant but headstrong ex-king of Naples was mad enough to make an attempt to regain his forfeited throne, on which Ferdinand had been reinstated by the Congress of Vienna. Having landed with about thirty followers on the coast of Lower Calabria, he was almost instantly arrested by a detachment of the Neapolitan troops, by whom he was handed over to a court-martial and sentenced to death.

The closing scene is well described in Colletta's 'History of Naples':—

Manuel Garcia was in his eleventh year when the tragedy took place, and in after years would recall the sensation which the gruesome incident made among the Neapolitans.

Almost immediately after Murat's death the Neapolitans found cause for great affliction and terror in the appearance of the plague, which seemed to them almost a judgment from Heaven.

The epidemic had only ceased a few months in Malta when it broke out again in Dalmatia, spreading thence from place to place, till it attacked the inhabitants of Cadiz at one extremity of the Mediterranean and Constantinople at the other. At the same time it reached Noia, a small city of Puglia, situated on the Adriatic.

Eagerness for gain by men carrying on illicit trade caused its introduction with some goods from Dalmatia.

The first death occurred on November 23, 1815, but a cordon was not placed round the city till six weeks later; traffic went on as usual, people left the city and returned, and merchandise was carried into the provinces and as far as Naples. Fortune, however, or divine providence, saved the kingdom and Italy, for out of the number of men and quantity of goods leaving Noia, none happened to be infected.

At last, on January 1, precautionary measures were taken, and the unhappy city was surrounded by three circuits of ditches, one at a distance of sixty paces, the next at ninety, and the third, which was rather a boundary-line than a barrier, at ten miles. Sentries were placed along these, and numerous fires lighted up the country at night. Whoever dared to attempt passing the line was punished with death; and more than one case is recorded of a poor wretch, maddened with the horrors of the town, rushing across the boundary-line, only to fall instantly under the musket-fire of the soldiers.

Throughout the winter the Garcias, in common with the other inhabitants of Naples, lived in constant fear that the plague might break out in the town.

Since, with the coming of spring, the danger showed little sign of ceasing, the elder Garcia determined to leave the country and remove with his family to Paris, from which he had been more than four years absent. It must have been just about the time of their departure that the theatre in which the tenor had been appearing during four successive seasons was destroyed by fire.

The scene which took place is well described by Colletta. The opera company, it appears, were on the spot rehearsing when the fire broke out, and at once fled in consternation. Their cries, with the volumes of smoke issuing from the building, made the danger known, and people hastened from all parts of the city, but too late. The conflagration spread, the king and royal family left the palace which adjoined the theatre, and the fire, catching the whole of the immense structure that composed the roof, sent forth raging and brilliant flames, which were reflected on the Monte St Elmo and in the sea below. The sky, which had been calm, became stormy, and the wind blew the flames in the direction of Castel Nuovo, until they licked the bare walls of the castle.

Happily the danger did not last long, for in less than two hours the noble structure was burned to ashes; and the mistake of having from financial avarice abolished the company of firemen was now acknowledged too late.

The king ordered the theatre to be rebuilt in the shortest possible time, and in four months it rose more beautiful than ever, though Manuel Garcia was never to see it after its phoenix-like reappearance.

CHAPTER IV.
PARIS AND LONDON.
(1816-1825.)

IN the spring of 1816 the elder Garcia left Naples, and with his family set out for Paris, which he had decided to make his home once more.

When he had last been in that city, upwards of four years previously, Napoleon had still been all-powerful; when he returned Louis XVIII. was on the throne and Bonaparte in hopeless exile at St. Helena.

After he had settled down he continued the singing lessons of his son, whose general education was looked after by private tutors,—Reicha, Basbereau, and others. As to himself, he was at once engaged as primo tenore at the ThÉÂtre Italien, then under the management of Catalani,—a woman whose story we will dwell on for a moment.

At the age of twelve she had been sent to a convent near Rome, being introduced by Cardinal Onorati. Here her voice soon became a great attraction owing to its extraordinary purity, force, and compass, which extended to G in altissimo. On leaving the convent, where sometimes the congregation had openly applauded her splendid notes in the services, she found herself compelled to perform in public, owing to the sudden poverty of her parents.

At the age of sixteen she obtained her first engagement at the Fenice Theatre in Venice, and thence she went to other opera houses in Italy, meeting everywhere with wonderful success.

In the year of Manuel's birth, Catalani signed her first agreement with the managers of the King's Theatre in the Haymarket at £2000 per annum, and remained in England for seven years. She was, however, a prima donna of the deepest dye, capricious as she was extravagant. Neither would her disposition endure the possibility of rivalry, nor would the size of her increasing demands allow the managers to engage any other singers of position. At last with the close of 1813, having unsuccessfully attempted to purchase the King's Theatre outright, she fell out with the directors and left London.

With the fall of Napoleon she went to Paris, where Louis XVIII. gave her the management of the ThÉÂtre Italien, with a subvention of 160,000 francs. Subsequently, during the Hundred Days, she fled before the advance of the despot, fearing his wrath, and paid a tactful visit to Germany and Scandinavia. It was only after the capture of the Emperor that she dared return, and even then she did so by way of Holland, instead of coming direct, lest at the last minute he might somehow free himself and come back into power. However, all was well, Catalani returned to her position at the ThÉÂtre Italien, and at once engaged Garcia pÈre on his arrival in Paris.

In the autumn of the year the tenor and his family paid their first visit to England, but only made a short stay. The little daughter Maria, who was now eight years old, accompanied them, and was left in England for some years, her education being carried on in a convent school at Hammersmith. It was to this fact that in after life she owed her success in this country as a singer of oratorio and English songs.

Upon the elder Garcia's return to Paris, the "Caliph of Bagdad" was revived, as well as another of his operas, "Le Prince d'Occasion." As primo tenore of Catalani's troupe, he appeared as Paolino in Pergolesi's "Matrimonio Segreto," and sang in all the operas which were in vogue at that time,—a very different repertoire to that which audiences are accustomed to hear nowadays.

At last an unfortunate quarrel arose between Catalani and himself, and at the end of 1817 he went once more to England. This was only a few months after "Don Giovanni" had been given in England for the first time at the Italian Opera House, with Mesdames Fodor, Camporese, and Pasta; Signori Crivelli, Ambrogetti, and Agrisani.

His success in London was great during the ensuing season. He made his dÉbut with Mme. Fodor in "The Barber of Seville," his performance of Almaviva being, according to a critic of that time, "commensurate with his transcendent talent," while he appeared in other operas with equal Éclat. During the same season he created a further sensation by singing at the chapel of the Bavarian Embassy in Warwick Street, where several masses of his own composition were given.

In 1819 he returned to Paris and became once more a member of the company at the ThÉÂtre Italien, Catalani having failed and resigned the reins of management during his absence in England. Here he repeated his old success in "Otello" and "Don Giovanni," and also took part, on October 26, in the first performance of "Il Barbiere" ever given in Paris, at the Salle Louvois. It was again received coldly, as had been the case on the original production in Rome three and a half years before. Once more the critics demanded the "Barbiere" of Paisiello, which was accordingly put on the stage at the ThÉÂtre Italien, only to meet with dismal failure; and thus in the end Rossini triumphed with it in the French capital, as he had in that of Italy.

The cast of this Parisian premiÈre was as follows:

In addition to appearing at the opera Garcia pÈre continued to compose prolifically. "La Mort du Tasse" and "Florestan" were produced at the Grand Opera, "Fazzoletto" at the ThÉÂtre Italien, and "La MeuniÈre" at the Gymnase, while three others were finished but never performed.

Moreover, he devoted a good deal of attention to teaching singing, his fame attracting a number of pupils, while at the close of the year 1819 he published a book on his 'Method of Singing.'

In the spring of the following year, in which took place the accession of George IV. to the throne of England, Manuel Garcia paid a flying visit to Spain. It was destined to be the last time he ever saw his native country. The fact is a curious one when we remember his intense love for Spain, which was so strong that, in spite of his spending the last fifty-eight years of his life in England, nothing would have induced him to become a naturalised British subject.

On his return from Madrid he commenced the study of harmony, for, as has been already stated, his father was a firm believer in the necessity of every singer being a musician in the broadest sense of the word. For this work he was placed under FranÇois Joseph FÉtis, who had just succeeded Elen as professor of counterpoint and fugue at the Conservatoire. This was six years before FÉtis became librarian of the institution—a position in which he was enabled to prepare his famous 'Biographie Universelle des Musiciens,' which is one of the greatest monuments to the achievements of musical genius ever reared. He was indeed a remarkable man, who displayed talent not only as teacher, but composer, historian, critic, and author of various theoretical works.

In 1821, the year of Napoleon's death, Manuel's youngest sister was born—Michelle Ferdinande Pauline,—who was in after years to become no less famous than Maria. The second and third names were given her in honour of her sponsors, Ferdinand PaËr and Princess Pauline Galitzin.In the spring of 1823 the elder Garcia was again appearing at the King's Theatre, and during the season he founded his famous school of singing in London. It was at this time, too, that he first began seriously to take Maria's musical training in hand, since she was now approaching her fifteenth birthday. His daughter soon showed the individuality of her genius, in spite of a certain fear inspired by her father's somewhat violent disposition.

He made his reappearance at the King's Theatre in May in Rossini's "Otello," given with the following cast:—

In speaking of his return to London, the 'Harmonicon' tells us: "Garcia's voice has an extensive compass and considerable power, and is round and clear. Its flexibility is remarkable."

On June 5 we find the tenor taking part in the first performance of Rossini's semi-serious opera, "Ricciardo e Zoraide," with this cast:—

Four weeks later he is appearing at the premiÈre of another of Rossini's works with the strange title, "Matilde di Shabran e Corradino, ossia Il Trionfa della Belta," with the principal parts distributed thus:—

From all this, it will be seen that Manuel Garcia lived in a musical world day and night. Awake or asleep, music and musicians surrounded the boy.

At the close of the London season his father returned to Paris.

An exceptional insight into the musical and artistic circles of the French capital at this time, when Manuel was a young man of eighteen, is given by the following paragraph from a paper of that day:—

"On November 15 some of the principal musical composers and theatrical performers of Paris united to give a dinner to Signor Rossini, in the great room of M. Martin, Place du ChÂtelet.

"Signor Rossini was seated between Mdlle. Mars and Mme. Pasta. M. Lesueur, placed exactly opposite to him, had Mme. Colbran Rossini on his right and Mdlle. Georges on his left; Mmes. Grassari, Cinti, and Denuri sat next to these. MM. Talma, Boieldieu, Garcia, and Martin were in the midst of this group of elegance and beauty. All the arts, all the talents, were represented by MM. Auber, HÉrold, CicÉri Panseron, Casimir Bonjour, Mimaut, Horace Vernet, &c.

"When the dessert was served, M. Lesueur rose and gave the following toast—'To Rossini! whose ardent Genius has opened a new path and formed an epoch in the art of music.'

"Signor Rossini replied by this toast—'To the French School, and to the prosperity of the Conservatoire.'

"M. Lesueur then gave—'Gluck.'

"Signor Garcia proposed—'Gretry! the most sensible and one of the most melodious of French musicians.'

"Signor Rossini then gave—'Mozart.'

"M. Boieldieu offered his toast in the following words—'Mehul! I see Rossini and the shade of Mozart applaud this toast.'

"M. HÉrold proposed—'Paisiello! Full of ingenuity and passion, he rendered popular in all parts of Europe the Italian School.'

"Finally M. Panseron (for M. Auber) gave—'Cimarosa! the precursor of Rossini.'"

With this the proceedings were brought to an official close and an unofficial commencement of others, which were doubtless continued into "the sma' wee hours."

In the January of 1824 the Garcias returned to England once more, for we find the following announcement made in one of the London musical papers—

"The Italian Opera (King's Theatre) is to open towards the end of the present month. Signor Rossini is engaged as composer and director of the music: he is to superintend the performance of his own operas, and to produce a new one. The engagements both for the opera and the ballet are upon a liberal scale. Among these are—

Mesdames—Ronzi di Begnis, Colbran Rossini, Pasta, Vestris, &c.

Signors—Garcia, Curioni, Franceschi, Remorini, di Begnis, Porto, &c.

Conductor—Signor Coccia.

Leader—Signor Spagnoletti.

Poet—Signor Vestris.

In the Ballet will appear—Mme. Ronzi Vestris; Mdlle.
Legras, Mdlle. Idalise Grener, Mdlle. Noblet; M.
Albert, M. Charles Vestris, M. Ferdinand, &c.

Principal Ballet-master—Mons. Aumer."

The season opened on January 24 with "Zelmira," a new opera conducted by "the universally fashionable composer of the day, Signor Gioacchiso Rossini."

How strangely reads the repertoire of the representations given at the King's Theatre during the next months! Two only are heard at Covent Garden nowadays, and those but rarely—"Don Giovanni" and "II Barbiere," which latter was given with Mme. Vestris as Rosina, di Begnis as Bartolo, Benetti as Figaro, and Garcia in his old part of the Count. One may perhaps add to the number of those still heard occasionally the "Nozze di Figaro"; but this is only given at the most attenuated intervals.

As for the rest, what can we say of Zingarelli's "Romeo e Giulietta" and Rossini's "Otello," in which Mme. Pasta makes her rentrÉe? Add to these "Ricciardo e Zoraide," "Semiramide," "Turco in Italia," "La Donna del Lago," and "Il Fanatico per la Musica" which Catalani chooses for her reappearance.

But there are other musical events worthy of attention during these months.

We read that "Master Liszt, the young German pianist, had a concert at the Argyll Rooms, when he exhibited talents that astonished all the leading professors who were present."

Further, we find Signor Rossini giving two subscription concerts at Almack's Rooms,—how strangely the names of the fashionable concert rooms of the past sound to us now!—"Tickets two guineas."

They are announced "To Begin at Nine o'clock"; while the composer has the assistance of the leading operatic artistes of the day—Catalani, Pasta, Vestris, Garcia, di Begnis, et hoc genus omne.

But what is of especial interest is the fact that Rossini not only conducted, but sang. He gave "a cavatino (sic) from Figaro," and a duetto with Mme. Catalani, "Se fiato in corpo avete" by Cimarosa.

The second of these subscription concerts, given on June 9, 1824, is worthy of our attention, for we find "Mdlle. Maria Garcia" making apparently her first appearance in London, taking part with her father in a duet, "Di Caprici," and adding a solo, "Nacqui al'affano," both by Rossini.

With the close of the London season the elder Garcia returned to Paris. Here his "Deux Contrats" was performed at the OpÉra Comique. But the early autumn of this year is principally memorable for the fact that he allowed his daughter to make her first appearance in Paris as a professional singer,—the concert in which she took part being given at a musical club which he had just established in that city.

Two months later the entire family went to London, and here Maria's musical education was continued in the singing-class which her father had established. The elder Garcia was again engaged as first tenor at the Royal Opera, his salary having now risen from £260 (1823) to £1250. Here he continued to gain still greater fame as a teacher, while his fertility as a composer was shown by two Italian operas, "Astuzia e Prudenza" and "Un Avertimento."

On June 7, 1825, Maria had the opportunity of making her dÉbut in London at the King's Theatre, as Rosina in "Il Barbiere," under the directorship of Mr Ebers.

It was owing to a fortuitous combination of circumstances—the sudden return of Mme. Pasta to Paris, Ronzi losing her voice through illness, Vestris seceding to the stage, and Caradori, an excellent seconda donna, being hors de combat—that Maria found herself engaged to fill the gap.

Manuel Garcia, by the way, in after years used sometimes to recall the effect which Pasta's singing made on him, when he heard her in his youth. He spoke of her as possessing a voice of ravishing beauty, together with perfection of fioriture and grandeur of dramatic conception, but in spite of this there was no doubt in his mind as to his preference for the singing of Maria. Indeed, he would always declare that his sister was the most natural and most precocious genius with whom he had ever come in contact.

With her dÉbut at the King's Theatre Maria achieved a triumphant success, which was witnessed by her brother; and she was engaged by the management for the remaining six weeks of the season for a sum of five hundred pounds.

Once more we find that curious repertoire of operas in favour at that time which contrasts so strangely with the taste of the present day, and serves to illustrate the important changes in the form and character of music which Manuel Garcia witnessed during his life.

We may, moreover, in this year trace the first introduction of Meyerbeer's music to English audiences, for we read in the July 'Harmonicon'—

"On the 23rd of last month there was brought out 'Il Crociato in Egitto,' the new grand opera of Meyerbeer, a composer whose name was completely unknown in this country only a few weeks ago.... Mdlle. Garcia, disguised in male attire, performed the part of Felicia with great ability, both as a singer and actress."

Turning from opera to the concert world of 1825, we learn that "The only regular subscription concerts now supported in London are the Ancient and the Philharmonic," though we find Mme. Catalani during May giving a series of four concerts at the Argyll Rooms, assisted by Mrs Salmon, Mr Sapio, and Signor Remorini.

In the way of private musical entertainments, the Duke of Devonshire gave a fashionable concert in May, with Pasta, Velluti, the last male soprano who ever trod the boards in opera in this country, Puzzi, and a pianist with the mellifluous cognomen "Szymanowska"; while on June 15, a state concert was given by his Majesty King George IV. at—Carlton Palace!

Among the artists taking part in the latter we find Signor and Mdlle. Garcia, Caradori, Begrez, di Begnis, Curioni, Remorini, Velluti, and Crivelli.

At the end of the season the elder Garcia, together with his wife, son, and daughter, sang at several provincial concerts, and their names appear in the programmes of two of the Gentlemen's Concerts at Manchester on August 15 and September 9.

Four members of the family appearing together was surely a remarkable event!

In the same month Maria was one of the soloists at the second York Festival.

The committee had tried to get Catalani, but, after pecuniary terms had been arranged, the treaty failed in consequence of a stipulation on her part that several songs should be transposed into a lower key to suit her voice.

"The committee had conceded," says the 'Harmonicon,' "to the condition with regard to detached airs, but refused for those which are connected with choruses. Then they tried to get Mme. Pasta, but this was refused, as they could not give her permission to come without materially compromising the interests of the Italian Theatre Royal. Thus disappointed, they entered into negotiations with Mr Braham and other eminent performers, and finally succeeded in obtaining the following assemblage of talent:—

A perusal of the programme brings home to us the change which has taken place in the last eighty years.

Handel naturally figured largely, while Mozart was represented by his Jupiter Symphony, Beethoven by his Symphonies in C and D and one of the Leonora overtures. Such names, however, as Pepusch, Spontini, and Salieri have long since disappeared. Again, the style of Festival programme was then of a very mixed, and, as regards some of the numbers, of a very "popular" kind. Festivals of the present day are of a much more serious character.

Mdlle. Garcia we find set down for such items as "Gratias" by Gugliemi, "Alma invitta" from "Sigismondo," "O patria" from "Il Tancredi," a terzetto from "Il Crociato in Egitto," and one of her "chevaux de bataille," "Una voce poco fa" from "Il Barbiere."

With the York Festival the visit to England was brought to a close, and at the end of the month the Garcia family embarked at Liverpool for New York, where Manuel was to take part in the first American season of Italian Opera.

Before following them there, let us seek a glimpse of some of the operatic and theatrical events between the year of Manuel Garcia's first visit to England and his trip to America.

In 1816 John Kemble was playing Coriolanus at his London season; Charles Kean was at Drury Lane; and at Covent Garden Mrs Siddons reappeared as Lady Macbeth, while Charles Mathews brought to an end his contract with that theatre.

Next year Henry Bishop's operatic drama "The Slave" was produced at Covent Garden, and a novel pantomime entitled "Robinson Crusoe," with Grimaldi as Friday. It was, moreover, on June 13 of this season that Kemble played Coriolanus for the last time, and retired. In 1818 Macready appeared in an acting version of "Rob Roy,"—a novel which Sir Walter Scott had published shortly before.

This year, moreover, saw the birth of Gounod, and the death of Mrs Billington, heroine of so many Covent Garden triumphs. In 1819 several oratorios were given under Henry Bishop, with Samuel Wesley the church musician as conductor; while on June 9, at the benefit of Mr and Mrs Charles Kemble, Sarah Siddons appeared on the stage for the last time in her life: a few months before this the beautiful Miss O'Neill retired from the boards.

Shelley passed away in 1822 (the year which followed that of the coronation of George IV.); while within a few weeks there took place an interesting benefit performance, at which "The Rivals" was acted, with the following cast:—

The next year is specially noteworthy for the production, in May, of Henry Bishop and Howard Payne's opera, "The Maid of Milan," which contained the air "Home, Sweet Home"; while in the following December, a tragedy by Mrs Hemans saw the light under the title "The Vespers of Palermo."

The year is, however, perhaps most important to us from the, at that time, unparalleled constellation of stars who were appearing at Drury Lane: Macready, Kean, Young, Munden, Liston, Elliston, Terry, Harley, Knight, Miss Stephens, and Mme. Vestris.

In 1824, the year of Byron's death, Henry Bishop left Covent Garden for Drury Lane, and Carl Von Weber was engaged in his place, in honour of which event "Der FreischÜtz" was brought out at the English Opera House, being also produced in the autumn at Covent Garden, where it was given for no less than fifty-two performances during the season of 1824-25.

And what of the salaries which were being received by theatrical stars at the beginning of the nineteenth century?

The great Charles Mathews writes at this time of a proposed engagement, "Now to my offer, which I think stupendous and magnificent, £17 a-week." John Kemble, for acting and managing, was receiving £36; Miss O'Neill, at the most brilliant portion of her career, never had more than £25 a-week; while Mrs Jordan at her zenith had thirty guineas; and Charles Kemble, until he became his own manager, never received more than £20 a-week.

Strange reading, indeed, when we compare it with the salaries which theatrical stars were receiving during the last few years of Garcia's life.

CHAPTER V.
OPERA IN AMERICA.
(1825-1826.)

THE earliest operatic performances in America were derived not from Italian but from English sources. Elson tells us in his book on American music that "The Beggar's Opera," which created such a furore in Great Britain, probably was the first entertainment of the kind given in the colonies, being performed in New York as early as December 3, 1750, and innumerable times thereafter. This was followed by a series of other ballad operas.

"From the conglomerate Ballad Opera, often the work of half a dozen composers," Elson continues, "New York passed on to a more unified art-work, and the operas of Arnold, Storace, and Dibdin were given with some frequency. During the British occupation, in revolutionary days, the English regimental bands often assisted in the orchestral parts of the operatic performances. At a later period many refugees, driven from France by the Revolution, were to be found eking out a precarious livelihood in the orchestra.

"At the beginning of the nineteenth century Charleston and Baltimore entered the operatic field, and travelling troupes came into existence, making short circuits from New York through the large cities, but avoiding Boston, which was wholly given over to Handel, Haydn, and psalms.

"In March 1825 New Yorkers heard a great opera for the first time, for 'Der FreischÜtz' came to America by way of England. It was adapted and arranged with the boldest of alterations and makeshifts. Extra dances were introduced to charm the audience, and the incantation scene was often given without singing, as melodrama that is, recitation with orchestral accompaniment, while the fireworks let off during the scene won public favour at once.

"But the real beginning of opera in New York, and in a certain sense in America, occurred in the autumn of this year, when the elder Garcia arrived with his well-equipped opera troupe. Well might a critic of that day speak of the Spanish tenor as 'our musical Columbus.' The whole season of opera during that memorable period was a revelation to the new world."

The company which the elder Garcia brought with him from Europe consisted of the following principal artists. His daughter Maria, who was seventeen years old, undertook all the contralto rÔles, while his wife and Mme. Barbieri were the soprani. He himself was, naturally, primo tenore, being assisted by the younger Crivelli as the secondo. The latter artist, the son of Ga?tano, one of the best Italian tenors, had first met the Garcia family in Naples, where he had spent some years in vocal study under Millico and Zingarelli.

During the last year of Garcia's stay in Italy Crivelli had written an opera, which was performed by the San Carlo company, of which it will be remembered the elder Garcia was a member.

The baritone for the New York season was "Garcia, jr.," as the subject of this memoir was advertised, and the cast was completed by d'Angrisani as the basso cantante, and Rosich as the buffo caricato. The chorus, which was collected and organised by Garcia only with the greatest difficulty, consisted chiefly of mechanics settled in America, who were accustomed to serve in choirs and could read music.

Of the circumstances which brought about this scheme of giving Italian opera in America we may read in the biography of the poet, Fitz-Greene Halleck. In it the author, General James Grant Wilson, tells us that Halleck was one of the two thousand New York pupils of Signor Daponte, who was for many years professor of Italian literature in Columbia College there. "To this Signor Daponte, the personal friend of Mozart, and writer of the libretto of 'Don Giovanni,' the poet told me," says the biographer, "that we were indebted for the introduction of Italian opera here, he having, with the late Dominick Lynch and Stephen Price, induced the elder Garcia to visit them with his troupe, and appear at the Park Theatre, of which Price was the manager."

When the elder Garcia arrived in New York he was at once visited by this Daponte, and it is reported that he rushed up to the Italian librettist and embraced him with the greatest warmth, singing all the while the aria "Fin ch'han dal vino," the Drinking Song from "Don Giovanni," for the words of which Daponte had been responsible.

During October and November, in addition to appearing in oratorio, the Garcia family gave a number of concerts, during which the tenor delighted to show the perfection of his method. He had a custom of striking a single chord, and then with his wife, son, and daughter, rendering a difficult operatic quartette, unaccompanied. At the end he would strike the chord again, to show that they had not deviated from the pitch to the extent of even a hair's-breadth. They certainly formed a quartette of pre-eminent ability; indeed, Chorley, one of the greatest musical authorities of his day, wrote of them, "The family of Spanish musicians are representative artists, whose power, genius, and originality have impressed a permanent trace on the record of the methods of vocal execution and ornament."

The first mention of their arrival we find in the 'Harmonicon,' which had a notice on October 25, to the effect that "The Spanish family of the Garcias, consisting of husband, wife, son, and daughter, have been engaged by Mr Price."

Some three weeks later a preliminary notice of their forthcoming venture appeared in a New York paper called 'The Albion, or British, Colonial, and Foreign Weekly Gazette.' In its issue of November 19 there was printed the following prospectus, which may be quoted in full, as it contains several points of interest:—

"Signor Garcia respectfully announces to the American public that he has lately arrived in this country with an Italian troupe (among whom are some of the first artists in Europe), and has made arrangements with the managers of the New York Theatre to have the house on Tuesdays and Saturdays, on which nights the choicest Italian operas will be performed in a style which he flatters himself will give general satisfaction.

"For the succeeding eight days the names of persons desirous to take boxes or benches for the season of three months, or for one month, will be received at the box office at the theatre, and the applicants for the longest term and greatest number of seats will be entitled to the choice of boxes. The seats in the pit will also be numbered, and may be taken for the same periods.

"The price of the box places will be two dollars; of pit, one dollar; and of gallery, twenty-five cents.

"The opera of 'Il Barbiera (sic) di Seviglia' is now in rehearsal, and will be given as soon as possible.

"Tickets of the permanent boxes will be transferable. Performance to commence at 8 o'clock."

In the next issue of the paper we read that

"Signor Garcia has the honour to announce to the public that the opera of 'Il Barbiere di Seviglia' will be performed on Tuesday next. The books are now open, and places may be taken at the Box Office."

The advertisement goes on to state that "the best operas of Cimarosa, Mozart, and Paisiello, with others by Rossini, will be immediately put in rehearsal."

The opening performance was given at the Park Theatre on November 29, 1825, the opera being "Il Barbiere," cast as follows:—

'The Albion' gave the opera company an encouraging send-off in the following naÏve announcement:—

"We have been disappointed in not receiving a scientific critique, which we were promised from a professor, on the Italian Opera of Tuesday night; we shall, however, have something to say later, and meanwhile can state that the experiment has proved completely successful, and the troupe may be assured of making a fortunate campaign."

It is recorded further that "an assemblage of ladies so fashionable, so numerous, so elegantly dressed, has probably never been witnessed in an American theatre."

General Grant Wilson gives us some further details of this fashionable audience, for, according to him, it included Joseph Bonaparte, the ex-King of Spain, and the two friends, Fenimore Cooper and Fitz-Greene Halleck, who sat side by side, delighted listeners. Another account refers to the representation in these terms:—

"We were last night surprised, delighted, enchanted: and such were the feelings of all who witnessed the performance. The repeated plaudits with which the theatre rung were unequivocal, unaffected bursts of laughter. The best compliment that can be paid to the merit of the company was the unbroken attention that was yielded throughout the entire performance, except that every now and then it was interrupted by judiciously bestowed marks of applause, which were simultaneously given from all parts of the house. In one respect the exhibition excelled all that we have ever witnessed in any of our theatres—the whole troupe were almost equally excellent: nor was there one whose exertions to fill the part allotted to him did not essentially contribute to the success of the piece.

"Signor Garcia indulges in a florid style of singing: with his fine voice, fine taste, admirable ear, and brilliancy of execution, we could not be otherwise than delighted.... Signorina Garcia's voice is what is denominated a fine contra-alto"—the gentleman is nothing if not correct, while we trace in the next words the unquestionable fact that he has been comparing notes with our "scientific" friend of 'The Albion.' "Her science and skill are such as to enable her to run over every tone and semitone with an ease and grace that cost apparently no effort." The sentence reads for all the world like a twentieth-century eulogy of an ardent motorist, if we substitute for tone and semitone the words woman and child.

He concludes with a vivid little sketch of Maria Garcia as she was at the age of seventeen:—

"Her person is about the middle height, slightly embonpoint; her eyes dark, arch, and expressive; and a playful smile is almost constantly the companion of her lips. She was the magnet who attracted all eyes and won all hearts."

This was Manuel Garcia's operatic dÉbut: it was not his first appearance before the public, for, as we have seen, he had already been singing previously at several concerts. It has been asserted by some that his dÉbut in opera was made in Paris in the preceding year, but he himself declared this was untrue; while his sister, Pauline Viardot-Garcia, has stated most definitely that it took place in New York.

His voice was never powerful: he had sung with charm as a boy, and when his voice broke it developed into high baritone—not tenor, as has been asserted by many. The latter mistake probably originated in the fact that sometimes, as will be related later, he undertook the tenor parts when his father felt indisposed; but on these occasions he always altered the melody of the higher passages to suit his baritone voice.

In the first and subsequent performances of "Il Barbiere" his artistic singing of the air "Largo al factotum" made a considerable stir in New York, and his popularity was thereby considerably increased, but from the criticisms it is obvious that Manuel Garcia would never have been an operatic artist of the first rank, and, as we shall see, he was to find his mÉtier in another field of music.

On the last day of the year we read in 'The Albion' that "The celebrated opera of 'Tancredi' will be produced at the Park Theatre this evening."

The paragraph which followed immediately after the above announcement recalls the mixed receptions which the immortal Kean sometimes experienced when he made his earlier appearances on the American stage:—

"Mr Kean has returned from Boston. The managers of the Boston theatre declare in an address to the public that they had no reason whatever to suppose that any serious or organised opposition existed against Mr Kean until 4 o'clock of the evening of his appearance.

"That amiable lady and excellent actress, Mrs Hilson, takes a Benefit at the Park on Wednesday, on which occasion Mr Kean has offered to perform in a favourite part."

In the next issue, January 7, 1826, we find the criticism of the performance of "Tancredi." One of the company had apparently discharged the duties of scene-painter for the production, and with success.

"'Tancredi' has been performed twice to crowded houses by Senior (sic) Garcia and his admirable troupe. Nothing could exceed the enthusiasm with which it was received. The scenery, painted by one of the troupe, is of matchless vigour and beauty, displaying magnificent ruins, paintings, &c., so peculiar to modern Italy.

"The corps has received a most efficient auxiliary in the person of Madame Barbiere (sic). Signorina Garcia takes the part of Tancredi. The piece, from its own intrinsic merits and the excellent manner in which it is performed, cannot fail to have a good run."

Evidently the Italian language was not a strong point in the office of 'The Albion.' We have already seen how "Il Barbiere" figured as "Il Barbiera," and Madame Barbieri as "Barbiere," while Signor Garcia appeared as "Senior." A still stranger mistake occurred in the notice of the premiÈre of "Otello" on February 11:—

"Rossini's opera of 'Otella' (sic) has been produced by the Italian, troupe. It was a most fortunate effort, and the piece, we trust, will have a good run. Signor Garcia astonished the audience with his masterly powers, many of whom had no conception that so much tragic effect could be given in recitative.

"After the performance Signor Garcia was addressed by Mr Kean behind the scenes, who complimented the highly-talented vocalist on the great talent he had that night displayed, and expressed in the warmest terms the gratification experienced in listening to him. Several of the troupe were present on Wednesday to see Mr Kean in the part of Othello."

In this American premiÈre of Rossini's "Otello," one of the greatest successes of the season, we find the parts distributed as follows:—

It must be many years since any operatic version of "Othello" has been performed other than that of Verdi, which was produced in Milan exactly sixty-one years after the performance of Rossini's setting just described. Indeed at the date of this American premiÈre, Giuseppe Verdi was but a lad entering his teens.

Another important production of the season was "Don Giovanni," given on May 23, with the elder Garcia in the title-rÔle. His son appeared as Leporello, and, as the criticism in 'The Albion' stated four days later: "In the part of Saporello"—the office shines once more in spelling—"the younger Garcia exhibited more musical ability than he has been generally thought to possess. His duet with Don Giovanni in the banquet scene was spirited enough."

Some other portions of this critique read rather quaintly. It will be remembered how the editor of the paper was perturbed after the opening performance of the season at not receiving the "scientific critique, which we are promised from a professor." He is evidently "still harping on my daughter," for one reads with infinite regret that—"To enter into any minute examination of 'Don Giovanni's' scientific merits is beyond our space and purpose"; while later we learn that "Madame Barbiere's taste is pure, and her science considerable."

The critic comes to the regrettable conclusion that "Garcia Senior is not at home in the simple melodies of Mozart," the reason which he gives for this fact being set forth in a delightful bit of phraseology,—"He must have a wide field for display: he must have ample room to verge enough for unlimited curvetings and flourishes."

Maria was able to satisfy this most learned and scientific judge, and we may presume that she found sufficiency of verging-room in Mozart, for we are told, "Mdlle. Garcia's Zerlina, though not so simple and rustic as Fador's (sic), the great Zerlina of Europe, is much more pleasing and fascinating. It was admirably acted, which for a singer is high praise. The celebrated 'Batti, batti,' was never better sung."

"In proportion as she is excellent," the notice concludes, "must we regret that a few nights longer and she will disappear from the public gaze."

Why the good gentleman should have been so perturbed it is a little difficult to see, for the season did not terminate for four months. Perhaps the explanation is that, just as other scientific men declared that the seven days of the World's Creation really meant seven periods, each extending over hundreds of years, so this one in saying "a few nights," took each night to stand for a period of a month. After all, as has been observed in Lewis Carroll's immortal book, it is only a question of who is to be master, the man or the word.

On August 26 we are informed that "'Il Barbieri de Siviglia'"—mark the dazzling array of fresh mistakes in spelling—"was performed last night for the fortieth time without any abatement of attraction."

Finally we are told of the approaching end of the season:—

"Sept. 16th.—The Italian operas are about to close in this city. We believe it is not finally arranged how the troupe is to be disposed of, but the Philadelphia papers express strong hopes of having this delightful entertainment"—enchanting phrase for such an occasion—"in that city." The following is Signor Garcia's card:—

"'Signor Garcia respectfully announces to the public that his engagement is limited to five representations of Italian operas, and will positively conclude on the 30th inst. On Saturday, September 16th, the benefit of Garcia, jun.'"—this was how Manuel appeared on the bills throughout the New York season—"'Tuesday the 19th, benefit of Mme. Garcia; Saturday the 23rd, benefit of Signor Garcia, Tuesday the 26th, benefit of Signorina Garcia, concluding Saturday the 30th, this being positively the last night of performance.'"

And so, on September 30, 1826, the first American season of Italian opera was brought to a close, after lasting ten months,—seventy-nine performances in all.

As to the repertoire, we have already set down the names of "Il Barbiere," "Don Giovanni," "Tancredi," and "Otello"; besides these we find Zingarelli's "Romeo e Giulietta," which in later years was to be ousted as completely from the field by Gounod's version as Rossini's "Otello" was fated to be by Verdi's. The list was completed by "Cenerentola," "Semiramide," "Turco in Italia," and two operas specially written by the elder Garcia, with a view to showing off his daughter's talents, "L'Amante Astuto," and "La Figlia dell' Aria."

As to the composition of the orchestra, we learn that it consisted of seven violins, two violas, three violoncellos, two double-basses, two flutes, two clarinets, one bassoon, two horns, two trumpets, and drums,—twenty-four performers in all. The first violin and leader was De Luce, while a M. Etienne presided at the pianoforte. That the orchestral standard was by no means as high as that of the vocalists, may be readily surmised from the following criticism of one of the earliest performances:—

"The violins might be a little too loud; but one soul seemed to inspire and a single hand to guide, the whole band being throughout the magic mazes of Rossini's most intricate flights under the direction of M. de Luce; while M. Etienne presided in an effective manner at a piano, of which every now and then he might be heard to touch the keynote by those whose attention was turned that way, and just loud enough to be heard throughout the orchestra, for whose guidance it was intended."

As has been already stated, the performance took place on Tuesday and Saturday evenings. The latter was a very great mistake, owing to the strong religious feelings of the city, which kept the inhabitants from going out on this evening for fear of interfering with preparation for the Sabbath. As we may read in a notice of the season, which was sent over by the New York correspondent to one of the English papers: "Saturdays were fixed on in imitation of London, but on the night which is your best nobody goes to the theatre, for we are very serious in this city, and do not go to the late amusements on Saturday."

However, in spite of this contretemps, the season turned out a complete success, for the 79 performances brought in gross receipts of 56,685 dollars (ranging from 1962 dollars on the best night to 250 dollars on the worst), which made an average of some 700 dollars at each representation.

It is rather ludicrous to read some of the articles which appeared in the New York papers during the earlier months of the Italian Opera. In them advice was given to those who had written asking questions as to how to dress in a fashionable way for the opera nights, according to the European manner, and how to behave during an opera performance.

In fact, it was thought "the thing" to go to the Park Theatre season, and the whole affair created the greatest excitement among the fashionables of Manhattanville.

Finally, we read towards the end of September of the future plans of the company:—

"They have been invited to New Orleans and also to Mexico, and it is believed that they will go to the latter place when their engagement here is over."

With the 1st of October 1826 the New York opera season had become a thing of the past, and on October 2 the dramatic season of Macready, a thing of the present, for on that date the tragedian trod the boards of an American stage for the first time. One cannot perhaps bring the chapter to a more seemly close than with the announcement which the ever-fascinating 'Albion' made in speaking of the opening performance:—

"Mr Macready appeared in the character of Virginius, in the presence of an audience of the most respectable description, and comprising all the talent and critical acumen of this great city." One can only pray that the scientific acumen was not absent on that memorable and respectable occasion.

CHAPTER VI.
NEW YORK AND MEXICO.
(1826-1827.)

PICTURE to yourself SeÑor Garcia sallying forth into the streets of New York on February 4, 1826, and purchasing a paper, to be confronted with this piece of up-to-date intelligence:—

"The following despatch was transmitted from Strasburg to Paris on Saturday afternoon, 'The Emperor Alexander I. of Russia died at Taganrog on December 1st, after a few days' indisposition.' The express which brought this intelligence left Warsaw on the 8th inst."

Here, then, we find that it has taken exactly nine weeks for important Russian news to reach New York. A fortnight later a short article appeared in one of the American papers which gives a rather good insight into the state of civilisation at that period. It has been sent over by a London correspondent. Above the contribution is the heading, in large type, "Steam Gun Experiments." I quote some of the more interesting portions:—

"At length this formidable weapon, destined, if ultimately adopted, to change the whole system of modern warfare, has been so perfected by Mr Perkins that the effects of its projectile power from a musket bore and with a lead ball may be fully judged. A trial was made last month at Mr Perkins' manufactory in the Regent's Park before the Duke of Wellington and staff." A strange piece of reading indeed.

"The adoption of the most destructive implements possible in war will be most friendly to humanity, by shortening its duration. Offensive war will profit much less than defensive. A fort may be made impregnable against an attacking force, and a breach (could such a thing be made under the fire of steam artillery) could not be stormed. It is impossible to foresee what changes this discovery may not make in the history of nations.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"It is not exceeding the bounds of probability to suppose that we shall ere long as commonly see vessels propelled by Perkins' steam-engines undertaking the most distant voyages, as we now see them employed on our coasts. In this case, calms, contrary winds, and tides will be comparatively of little consequence, since a steam vessel, under such favourable circumstances, can always make some way on her voyage or retreat into harbour."

Here I may be permitted to quote a series of paragraphs culled from 'The Albion' of March 25 of this same year, as being good specimens of the news which the maestro was accustomed to read. They give a series of vivid glimpses into the days when he was a young man. First, let us see some of the tit-bits of up-to-date gossip and fashionable news which the London correspondents have to retail to their subscribers in New York:—

"Mr Charles Mathews, the celebrated comedian, is on a visit to Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford."

"Madame Pasta was expected to be in London by the first of April." Inauspicious date!

"His Majesty [this would be George IV.] on his return to town will occupy apartments at St James's. Carlton House will not again be the Royal residence."

"The expense of postage of letters through the medium of the Twopenny Post Office by Alderman Thompson's Committee, when he first announced himself as one of the candidates for the presentation of the City, amounted to no less a sum than £128."

"Industry and Talent.—It is a notorious fact that Sir Walter Scott unites drudgery with lofty genius, and has put his hand to almost every department of literay (sic) labour, without being scared by occasional want of success."

Farther on we find this heading, in large type, under "Intelligence received, by the Bayard, from Havre"—

"SPEECH OF THE KING OF FRANCE, "Delivered at the opening of the Chambers, January 31st."

Then follows a full report of the address which Charles X. had given eight weeks before.

Next we come to a piece of geographical discovery:—

"The operations of the British armies against the Burmese enable us to correct many errors and to add to our limited knowledge of the geography of the East. A short time since, we announced the important fact that a branch of the Irrawaddy had been discovered to discharge into the Bay of Bengal. This discovery has been fully confirmed, various stragglers from Sir Archibald Campbell's army at Prome having found their way to the coast in that direction, and there got on board English vessels."

The last quotation which I will make from the issue of that date refers to the "Seizure of a slave vessel in England." In it we read how "The French vessel was boarded and subsequently seized by Lieutenant Rye of the coastguard service. She was found well fitted out with all the ordinary furniture of a slave-trader, her hold adapted in the usual way to the reception of slaves. Among her other stores there were, of course, found manacles and shackles in great abundance: a long chain to confine the unfortunate creatures in gangs, with all the usual implements of negro torture that would not be understood by their names, we are happy to say, by most of our readers."

These, then, were the special plums of "Latest Intelligence" from Europe, which the twenty-year-old Manuel no doubt devoured with keenest relish on that morning eighty odd years ago.

I should like to make one more quotation from the same paper, two months later, for it gives us a glimpse of both the artistic and military doings of Europe at this time. The article in question is an appreciation of the President of the Royal Academy.

"Sir Thomas Lawrence is confessedly at the head of the English school of portrait-painters. He is about forty-seven years of age. The Kembles and Mrs Siddons have been his favourite associates. At one time he was a particular friend of the late Queen Caroline. His portraits of George IV. are excellent. In 1818 he was commissioned to visit the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle for the purpose of painting the monarchs, warriors, and statesmen of Europe. During that visit the doors of his atelier were open to his friends, and it is impossible to fancy a more interesting sight than his morning levÉe. The Emperors of Russia and Austria, the King of Prussia, Wellington, Richelieu, BlÜcher, Bernstoff, and a long train of distinguished personages, were almost always to be met there."

During the opera season of 1826 two strange events took place which SeÑor Garcia would recall in after-years. At the time the one filled the inhabitants of New York with the wildest excitement, the second with the deepest gloom.

On April 8—three weeks, that is to say, after the future centenarian had celebrated his twenty-first birthday—the extraordinary duel took place between John Randolph, United States Senator from Virginia, and Henry Clay, Secretary of State. The meeting was on the right bank of the Potomac within the state of Virginia, above the Little Falls Bridge—pistols, at ten paces. Each of the principals was attended by two seconds and a surgeon, while Senator Benton was present as a mutual friend. Needless to say, it ended in the way which was to become so fashionable among French duellists in later years. The daring combatants escaped scatheless and shook hands,—the gentlemanly Anglo-Saxon alternative for each rushing into the other's arms with a wild cry of "Mon ami! mon ami!" and saluting his late adversary with an affectionate kiss on either cheek.

As to the second event, one cannot do better than let the story be told by the notice which appeared in one of the New York newspapers:—

"JUBILEE OF DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

——

"FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATIONS.

——

"SUDDEN DEATH OF TWO EX-PRESIDENTS.

——

"The death of John Adams, late President of the United States, took place on July 4. He was the second President of the United States and the first Minister sent by this country to Great Britain after the acknowledgment of the Independence.

"He departed this life, full of years and honours, on the evening of the 4th inst., as the bells were ringing for the conclusion of the celebration of the auspicious day. The venerable patriot rose in his usual health, rejoicing that he had been spared to witness the jubilee of his country's freedom. Towards noon he became ill, grew gradually worse, and at six fell asleep. He was one of the earliest and ablest and most fearless champions of his country's freedom, and his name fills a wide space in its history. Only two of the signers of the Declaration of Independence now survive.