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.
"DEATH OF MR JEFFERSON.
"Mr Jefferson, late President of the United States, died at his
residence in Virginia, on July 4, at 10 to 1 o'clock. It is a
strange coincidence that these two venerable personages should have
paid the debt of nature on the same day, and that day the Fiftieth
anniversary of that Independence which they so essentially
contributed to achieve."
On September 30, as we have seen, the New York venture of Italian Opera
was brought to a conclusion.
A few days later the elder Garcia set off for Mexico, where he had
arranged to initiate a season at the Opera House. He was accompanied on
the journey by the whole troupe, with the exception of his daughter
Maria.
The reason of her remaining behind was that on March 23 of that year she
had given her hand to Monsieur Malibran, a French merchant three times
her own age, and by repute a very wealthy man. It can scarcely have been
a love-match, for the union appears to have been a most unhappy one from
the start. As to the reason for the marriage, some light has been thrown
by Fitz-Greene Halleck's biographer, in a conversation which I had with
him recently.
It will be remembered that Halleck was present at the opening night of
Italian opera in America, in the company of his friend Fenimore Cooper.
The latter must have been busy correcting the proofs of his latest book,
'The Last of the Mohicans,' since this was published in New York soon
after the New Year,--a literary event which of course Manuel Garcia
could quite well remember.
Halleck at once fell under the spell of Maria's voice and personality.
Of his admiration for her singing he wrote these lines, alluding to his
own death:--
"And when that grass is green above me,
And those, who bless me now and love me,
Are sleeping by my side,
Will it avail me aught that men
Tell to the world with lip and pen
That once I lived and died?
No! if a Garland for my brow
Is growing, let me have it now,
While I'm alive to wear it;
And if, in whispering my name,
There's music in the voice of fame
Like Garcia's, let me hear it."
Was ever a more beautiful compliment paid to a singer?
It was not long before the poet obtained an introduction to his ideal.
The acquaintance thus began quickly ripened, and Fitz-Greene Halleck
became deeply attached to her. This warmth of feeling was undoubtedly
returned, and there seems every probability that Maria, girl of
seventeen as she was, might have been well content to wed the American
poet. Her father, however, intervened, and sternly refused to allow
things to go farther.
Here we have a possible explanation of the tragedy which ensued.
Monsieur Malibran came upon the scene and offered himself, and Maria
perhaps decided to accept him in order to escape from the discipline of
an exacting parent. There certainly must have been some very powerful
reason at work to bring about her union with a man older than her own
father, at an age when youth and romance would naturally appeal to her
most strongly, and such a wedding of May and December could not but
appear repulsive in the extreme. Certainly it can hardly have been the
man's reputed wealth which tempted her to take such a step, seeing that
she was already well advanced on the road to becoming one of the
greatest operatic stars of her day.
After the wedding and her family's departure for Mexico, the unhappy
Maria discovered that her husband's affairs had for some time past been
in a very bad state, and that he had really been counting on the income
which would accrue from her talents. Matters grew rapidly worse, and
within a year of the marriage he was declared bankrupt and thrown into
prison. Under these circumstances Maria at once, of her own accord,
determined to resign, for the benefit of her husband's creditors, the
whole of the provision which had been made for her by the marriage
settlements. It was a noble act, which gave rise to strong
manifestations of favour and approbation on the part of the American
public.
For some months after this she remained in New York, singing on Sundays
at Grace Church, and occasionally appearing at the Bowery Theatre in
English operettas, such as "The Devil's Bridge" and "Love in a Village."
By this time, however, the youthful contralto had had her eyes
thoroughly opened as to the character of the man to whom she had given
herself, and at last she bravely decided to cut the Gordian knot by
leaving her husband and returning to Europe.
Accordingly her final appearance on the American stage was announced for
September 28, 1827, and on this night she took her farewell benefit at
the Bowery Theatre, in Boieldieu's "Jean de Paris." Of the closing scene
of that evening we read--
"When the programme had been completed, the Signorina came forward and
seated herself at her harp, but seemingly overcome with emotion again
rose. Mr Etienne, the pianist, thereupon took up the prelude to a
farewell song, specially written for the occasion, and this, on
regaining her composure, she sang in a most touching and effective
manner."
Within a few days of this performance Maria set out for Paris, where, as
we shall see, she was to be joined almost immediately by her brother.
And now we will turn to the fortunes of the rest of the Garcia family,
who had left New York to inaugurate a season of opera in Mexico.
Upon arriving at the end of the journey, the elder Garcia soon found
that the duties of impresario, composer, conductor, chorus master, and
even machinist and scene-painter, must all centre in himself.
But this was not the worst, for at the very outset a calamity fell upon
the company which with any one else would have been sufficient to bring
the season to a close before it had opened, as an Irishman might have
put it.
On reaching the Opera House in Mexico city, they at once began to
prepare for their forthcoming season. Everything was unpacked, and they
commenced going through scenery, dresses, properties, and the rest. All
these they found in order. When, however, they began to look for the
music score and orchestral parts, they found, to their horror, that
nearly the whole of the music had been left behind or lost _en route_.
What was to be done? Their season was advertised to commence in a few
days, and without music it was utterly impossible. The artists were in
despair, and completely lost their heads. The elder Garcia alone
remained calm in the midst of turmoil. They could not perform without
music; very well, he must write out fresh copies of the scores as best
he could. What was advertised for the first night? "Don Giovanni"?
_Bien_; then he would make a start on that. Without losing a moment he
set to work, and actually reproduced the whole of the full orchestral
score from memory! As each number was finished it was given out to
copyists, who prepared the separate parts for the various instruments.
This task being ended, the marvellous man set to work on "Otello" and
"Il Barbiere," which with the first named had always been the most
important in his repertoire. How successfully he carried out his
self-imposed task may be judged from the fact that when "Don Giovanni"
was given, no one present could tell that it was not the original score.
As if this had not been enough work, he promptly proceeded to compose
eight operas for his company to perform; nor was this all, for finding
that the words of the Italian operas were not understood, and that the
people had not the northern affectation of liking them better on that
account, he translated into his native Spanish every work which was
performed. And here a few words may be said upon the memorising of new
operas.
It was customary in those days for managers to allow their artists nine
days to learn a two-act opera. For three acts the time would be
increased to twelve days, and for four acts sixteen. That the elder
Garcia did not always allow so much is borne out by the statement which
Maria Malibran used to make that, on one occasion, her parent bade her
learn a _rôle_ in two days and sing it at the opera.
"I cannot do it, father."
"You _will_ do it, my daughter; and if you fail in any way, I shall
_really_ strike you with my dagger when I am supposed to kill you on the
stage."
"And he would have done it, too," she would add, "so I played the part."
Manuel himself was ever a phenomenally quick "study" in the memorising
of any fresh _rôle_. Short though the periods would be which were
allowed in the ordinary way for learning a work, they were for him a
great deal too long. He was able to commit to memory the whole of his
part in two or three days, while at the end of ten he had picked up the
parts of all the other singers as well, so that if necessary he was
perfectly able to prompt them during the final rehearsals.
His father used to take advantage of this extraordinary memory, and,
when feeling indisposed, would say, "You must go on, and take my part
to-night." The son would proceed to do so, and get through the
performance successfully, singing the tenor _rôle_, in which he would
alter the high passages to suit his own voice.
All this hard work, however, was not accomplished without leaving its
mark, and in a few months he began to feel the effects of the strain
involved in this perpetual rehearsing and singing not only of his own
baritone parts but on occasions of the tenor music. His father was a
hard task-master, and the son, though he had a fine voice, found the
work involved by an operatic career too hard for his physical resources.
At last things reached a point at which, as he once told me, he went
through every successive performance in a state of fear lest his voice
should leave him suddenly when he was on the stage.
His father and mother laughed at this feeling as absurd, and told him
that he must study for a time in Italy, and then make his _début_ there,
as they had set their hearts on it. Partly, therefore, to please them,
partly, it may be, to comfort and assist Maria, of whose intention to
set out for Paris in the September he must have been well aware, Manuel
Garcia left his parents to continue their season in Mexico, and in the
early autumn of 1827 set out for Europe alone.