Garcia the Centenarian And His Times Part 24

Still, as in spite of that she accomplishes in a week what takes most other girls a month, I hope sometime to make a singer of her.'"

Here I will abandon Mr Klein's narrative, to resume it later in describing the preparation of Garcia's last text-book, 'Hints on Singing.'

During the next few years a number of pupils pa.s.sed through his hands at the Royal Academy of Music, who were afterwards to take an important place in their profession.

In 1875 Miss Orridge came to place herself under the maestro. The years which she spent at the Academy brought victory after victory. She gained in turn the Llewellyn Davies Bronze and Gold Medals for declamatory singing, the Parepa-Rosa Medal, and the Christine Nillson's Second Prize. While still a student at the Royal Academy of Music, Miss Orridge made her _debut_ at the St James's Hall Ballad Concerts, and also went on a successful tour with Sims Reeves. From that time she continued to make rapid strides in her professional status, and gave promise of being one of the best contralto concert singers of her time, when her career was brought to a sudden close by an untimely death, when she had been before the public scarcely six years.

At the commencement of 1876 Garcia received the letter from Wagner to which attention has been already called, embodying the offer for him to train the singers for the first Bayreuth Festival. This, however, he was obliged to refuse, owing to his large _clientele_ in London.

On July 14, 1877, the inventor of the Laryngoscope received his second recognition for the services which he had rendered to the medical profession, fifteen years having elapsed since the degree of Mus. Doc.

had been conferred on him, _honoris causa_, by the University of Konigsberg.

An influential meeting a.s.sembled to give their support at the ceremony of presenting him with a service of plate.

Professor Huxley presided, and in his speech bore strong testimony to the great services that Manuel Garcia had rendered alike to science and humanity by his important discovery. It was unnecessary, Huxley said, to do more than remind the physician that in the laryngoscope he had gained a new ally against disease, and a remarkable and most valuable addition to that series of instruments, all of which, from the stethoscope onwards, had come into use within the memory of living men, and had effected a revolution in the practice of medicine. They owed this instrument to Signor Garcia.

The following year brought fresh honours at the Royal Academy of Music.

As previously the maestro had been elected a member of the Committee of Management after twenty years' connection with the inst.i.tution, so now, after thirty years, he received a further mark of distinction by being made one of the Directors of the Academy.

With 1879 Charlotte Thudic.u.m entered the Royal Academy of Music as his pupil. Success soon came to her, for after a year's tuition she won the Parepa-Rosa scholarship, and two years later the Westmoreland. On leaving his hands the young soprano went over to Paris to study opera with his sister, Mme. Viardot, and upon her return in 1883 was at once secured for the "Pops," Crystal Palace Sat.u.r.day Concerts, and other important engagements, while in the following season she sang with the Birmingham Festival Choral Society.

In due course she secured fresh laurels by taking part in "Ivanhoe" at the Royal English Opera House, in which opera she played Rebecca on alternative nights with another of Garcia's pupils, Margaret Macintyre.

1881 brought Garcia's third recognition for his invention.

The International Medical Congress was to hold its seventh session in London from the 2nd to the 9th of August, Dr de Havilland Hall, Dr (now Sir) Felix Semon, and Dr Thomas J. Walker being appointed honorary secretaries of the section devoted to "Diseases of the Throat," which was to meet with Dr George Johnson, F.R.S., in the chair.

At the suggestion of the late Sir James Paget, Senor Garcia received an invitation to read a paper before the Congress, describing his work in connection with his invention. The invitation was gladly accepted. He attended, and was introduced to the a.s.sembled doctors in the most flattering terms during the inaugural address by the chairman, who was one of the vice-presidents of the medical section.

In connection with the friendship which existed between Manuel Garcia and Sir Felix Semon, one may recall an amusing anecdote recounted in the latter's short memoir, published for Garcia's 100th birthday.

"On a certain occasion," the doctor writes, "I delivered a lecture at the Royal Inst.i.tution of Great Britain on the culture of the singing voice. In the course of my remarks I attacked the dogmatic way in which the question of the registers was treated by different authorities, and showed there and then, by the aid of some excellent photographs of the larynx during the emission of tone, that the mechanism of the registers, even in relation to the same kind of voice, may in some cases be totally different from others.

"The lecture had a humorous sequel, for among my audience were a number of the best known singing teachers in London. When I had finished, one of these, well known for his obstinate dogmas, came up to me in a state of visible annoyance and said, 'You should not speak on things that you know nothing about.' A second expressed his recognition of the fact that I had taken up arms against the theorists, and then proceeded to describe an entirely new theory on the register formation discovered by himself.

"But, last of all, Garcia came up to me with a smile, and remarked, 'Good heavens, how much I must have taught during my life that is wrong!'"

In 1882 Margaret Macintyre and Marie Tempest commenced studying under the maestro.

The former, a daughter of General Macintyre, was to be the best known of Garcia's pupils at Dr Wyld's London Academy of Music, where he taught for some twenty years. The prima donna during her training there carried off in turn the Bronze, Silver, and Gold Medals of the Academy. During the last year she had the honour of singing the soprano _role_ in the performance of Liszt's oratorio "St Elizabeth," given at the London Academy Concert in the St James's Hall in honour of the composer's presence in London. Two years later she appeared as Michaela in "Carmen," winning instant success. Moreover, as we have already seen, she shared with Miss Thudic.u.m the _role_ of Rebecca in the production of "Ivanhoe," while shortly afterwards she took part in the Handel Festival of 1891. After this she sang with the greatest success as prima donna in the Grand Opera seasons at Milan, Moscow, and St Petersburg.

Marie Tempest arrived at the Royal Academy of Music in the Easter term of 1882, and remained there three years under Garcia, carrying off the Bronze, Silver, and Gold Medals of the Inst.i.tution. The Academy was specially prolific of talent at this time, for among the students during these years were Eleanor Rees, Miss Thudic.u.m, Edward German, Courtice Pounds, and several others who were to attain wide fame in the musical world.

Of her studies under Garcia Miss Tempest told me a couple of very characteristic anecdotes.

When Miss Etherington, as she was in those days, came for her first interview with the maestro (having arrived from a convent in France only a few days before), she was wearing a very tight-fitting dress of Stuart tartan, cut in the Princess style, which showed off her figure to advantage and drew attention to the nineteen-inch waist of which she was the proud possessor.

Garcia raised his eyebrows when he saw his prospective pupil step forward from the group of girls who were waiting their turn to be heard.

However, nothing was said until her song, an Italian "aria," had been brought to a close. Then came a pause, while Marie Tempest tremblingly awaited the verdict on her voice. At last the oracle spoke. "Thank you, Miss Etherington; will you please go home at once, take off that dress, rip off those stays, and let your waist out to at least twenty-five inches! When you have done so you may come back and sing to me, and I will tell you whether you have any voice."

The a.s.sembled girls t.i.ttered audibly, and the unfortunate victim slunk out of the room with flaming cheeks.

"He was quite right, though," Miss Tempest concluded; "no one can sing when laced in as tightly as that. I went home, and--well, I've never had a nineteen-inch waist since."

The other episode concerned the Academy weekly concerts. Garcia generally had a pupil singing at these, and would sit in front, nodding, waving his hand, and generally doing his best to establish telepathic communication with the vocalists, that he might inspire them with his spirit. At one of these Marie Tempest was due to sing with orchestra an air from "Ernani," which had been carefully studied under her master.

The conductor waved his hand and the aria was commenced. After a few bars Manuel Garcia began to fidget in his seat, then to frown, and to beat time with his feet. At last the veteran could stand it no longer.

He rose from his seat, leapt on to the platform--approaching his eightieth year as he was,--and seized the baton from the conductor's hand, exclaiming, "Mon Dieu! you are ruining my pupil's song. I will conduct it myself."

Shortly after this episode Miss Tempest, as a member of the operatic cla.s.s, took part in a mixed performance which included an act from "Carmen" and another from the "Mock Doctor."

Alberto Randegger was present at this, and came up to her afterwards, saying, "Miss Etherington, you must undoubtedly go on the stage."

"After that," said Miss Tempest, "I seemed to be on the boards before I knew where I was."

"The first piece in which I appeared was 'Boccacio,' at the Comedy Theatre; from that I went to the Opera Comique for 'Fay o' Fire,' and then came 'Dorothy,' and--the rest." What a record it has been, that series of triumphs in light opera, concert, and comedy, thus dismissed with a smile and a characteristic shrug of the shoulders as--"the rest"!

Another pupil of Garcia at the Academy about this time was Madame Agnes Larkcom.

Arthur Oswald, now a professor at the Royal Academy of Music, tells me that at one of his lessons he was stopped by Senor Garcia with the word "wrong!" He was surprised, because he felt sure that he had sung the right notes in time and tune, and with careful attention to the words and vocal phrasing. "I will give you five minutes to find out," said Garcia to the puzzled pupil when he asked to be told the fault. At the end of that time the master said, "Voix blanche, voix ouverte, voix horrible."

Mr Oswald recounted another episode which was very typical. His friend William Nicholl, after studying under various Continental and English masters, was anxious to have an interview with Garcia to make sure that he had a.s.similated correct ideas. A meeting was accordingly arranged, and he went up to "Mon Abri," expecting to be put through some sort of catechism as to the human voice and the principle of singing. Instead of this, Garcia, on learning that his visitor wished to teach, motioned him to the piano-stool. "Will you sit down, please? Merci. Now, you are the master, I am the pupil. I know absolutely nothing. Give me my first lesson."

Nicholl commenced to carry out this very practical test of his powers to the best of his ability. All went well till in an unlucky moment he mentioned the phrase "voice-production," which was the maestro's pet aversion. In an instant Garcia leapt to his feet and banged his fist on the piano. "Mon Dieu! How can you _produce_ a voice? Can you show it to me and say, 'See, here it is. Examine it?' Non! Can you pour it out like molten lead into the sand? Non! There is no such thing as voice-production. Perhaps you mean voice-_emission_. You do? Eh, bien!

Then say so, please."

"Through the good offices of a friend," says another pupil, "I found myself one day in Garcia's room at the London Academy of Music. He was just finishing a lesson, and I was struck at once by the extreme courtesy and patience with which he taught, the charm of his manner, the directness, the common-sense, and uncommon penetration of his remarks.

"He welcomed me with a few graceful words, scrutinising me with a keen but friendly glance. Thus I sang to him with much confidence, losing all the nervousness with which I had looked forward to the examination by so famous a judge. He accompanied me gently, yet with firmness and rhythmical decision. When I had finished he looked straight at me, and to my utter astonishment remarked, 'You are a philosopher, are you not?'

"'Oh, I have studied philosophy to some extent,' I replied.

"'What do you think of your performance?'

"'But I should like to know your opinion,' I blurted out.

"'No, no,' he answered. 'Tell me what you think of it?'

"So I told him that I thought I had a voice and an ear, but I was afraid I did not succeed in making a strong appeal, and I was sure I did not know how to sing. He laughed. 'Quite right, quite right; you do not sing,' he said."

"Manuel Garcia's science and cleverness," writes another, "enabled him to know at once whether he had to deal with a pupil of promise or not, and unlikely aspirants were not allowed to waste his time and theirs.

"I remember a notable case in point. A very rich lady offered the master any price if he would only teach her daughter. He refused, knowing well he could never obtain serious work from her; but as the mother persisted he hit upon a compromise. He asked the ladies to be present during a lesson, and he undertook to teach her, if the girl still wished to learn singing after hearing it taught. The lesson began. The pupil--who seemed to the listeners an already finished singer--had to repeat pa.s.sage after pa.s.sage of the most difficult exercises before the master was satisfied; he insisted upon the minutest attention to every detail of execution.

Mother and daughter exchanged horrified glances, and looked on pityingly. The lesson was finished, the master bowed the ladies out, and in pa.s.sing the pupil the young girl whispered to her, 'It would kill me!' Senor Garcia, returning from the door, said contentedly, 'They will not come again. Thank you, mon enfant, you sang well.'

"He was always careful to avoid making his pupils self-conscious by too many explanations. In one case he found a simple way of teaching chest-voice to a girl. 'Do you know how a duck speaks?' Senor Garcia asked her. 'Imitate it, please.'

"With much giggling, to which he listened patiently, she tried to obey, 'Quack, quack.'