Part 29 (1/2)
”Iw ill remain he re so--m--eti--me long er an d wheni n tow nIw il lw rite t oyo u.
”Ho ping to fin d you ing oo d hel than dv oic e, I rem ain y our strul y MGARCI A.”
Often at the close of a lesson he used to ask me to stay to tea, and in the summer we would adjourn to the garden, where the table would be spread beneath the inviting shadow of the trees. Those would be red-letter days indeed.
On these occasions the maestro would leave thoughts of singing behind him, and show his wide interests and deep insight into all the questions of the day. Once when conversation had turned upon violin-playing, there came up the name of Kubelik, who had come out in London a few weeks previously. After four years' pupilage, I was not surprised to learn that he had already been to hear the new instrumentalist. I must, however, confess to having been somewhat startled when, with the greatest _sangfroid_, he began comparing the execution with that of Paganini. At other times he would speak of Joseph Chamberlain and the newest developments of Fiscalities, the building of sky-sc.r.a.pers in New York, the drama of the day, or the Spanish War. One day he even showed himself quite ready to discuss the pros and cons of Christian science.
[Ill.u.s.tration: FACSIMILE OF A LETTER WRITTEN BY MANUEL GARCIA AT THE AGE OF NINETY-NINE.]
My lessons came to a close in April of 1900, when the maestro was in his ninety-sixth year.
When in due course the time came for making my first provincial tour, he wrote several letters on the subject, of which I quote three, as being typical of the trouble which he was ever ready to take, and the wisdom of the advice which he would give.
”MON ABRI,” CRICKLEWOOD.
I am a very bad maker of programmes. If I had to deal with that sort of work, I should have to take the advice of an expert who could tell what sort of music would meet the taste of every individual public. Your mother might be your best adviser.
Wis.h.i.+ng you every success. M. GARCIA.
Again he writes:--
Before you commence your tour you ought to give a _complete_ rest to your voice. Prepare for work only a week before you begin.
Do not sing or study the ”Elijah” nor any other music written for a baritone. For your organ the use of low notes is resting, therefore necessary.
Do not indulge in exaggerated display of power. Too much ambition in that respect is fatal.
A third runs as follows:--
You will do well not to limit yourself to singing easy songs, but also to attempt upon occasion such pieces as require the full use of your means. This will be an excellent preparation for your appearance in London, and it will give you the confidence in your powers and the facilities in using them necessary to enable you to take a place among the best of the profession. It will always give me pleasure to hear of your successes. Give my kindest regards to your mother.
After this I continued to see the maestro fairly often, and was not surprised to hear of his setting off in his ninety-seventh year to spend the winter in Egypt, or of his staying with his sister in Paris for a few days on his way home.
In the early winter of 1903 my mother was taken seriously ill, and Manuel Garcia on hearing of this at once wrote a sympathetic letter.
On January 10, 1904, the end came, and with the announcement in the papers, one of the first tokens of sympathy was a beautiful wreath from the maestro, followed by a telegram expressing his desire to be present at the closing scene in the career of his old pupil. Despite the distance, for the service was held at Golder's Hill, the maestro drove over, stayed for the entire service, and remained behind afterwards to offer a few simple but never-to-be-forgotten words of sympathy.
Two months after this he entered his 100th year. To celebrate the occasion, an address of congratulation was presented to him, signed by 127 professors of the Royal College and Royal Academy of Music.
[Ill.u.s.tration: FACSIMILE OF A LETTER WRITTEN BY MANUEL GARCIA AT THE AGE OF NINETY-FOUR.]
At the end of the year it was suggested by the editor of 'The Strand Magazine' that I should prepare an article on ”Manuel Garcia and his Friends” for publication in the month of his centenary. On my communicating with the maestro, he wrote at once offering to render a.s.sistance, and asked me to bring the MS. up when ready. Accordingly, in the January, two months before his 100th birthday, I spent the afternoon with him, and was requested to read aloud the proofs of the article.
It was astonis.h.i.+ng how memory enabled him to correct immediately any mistake. He would suddenly stop and say, ”No, no; it was in 1827, not 1825.” Again, in the case of a story in which some details were wrong, he said, ”No, that is not right. I will tell it you again”; with which words he recounted in French the tale of how his sister, Malibran, came to make her _debut_ at Paris. And so the afternoon pa.s.sed, until finally, after signing a photo, he insisted on coming to the door to see me out. This experience served to prepare me for the astonis.h.i.+ng ease and energy with which, a few weeks later, he went through the Centenary festivities.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CENTENARY HONOURS.