Pauline Garcia was just sixteen when, panting with an irrepressible
sense of her own powers, she exclaimed, "_Ed io anclû son cantatrice_."
Her first public appearance was worthy of the great name she afterward
won. It was at a concert given in Brussels, on December 15, 1837, for
the benefit of a charity, and De Bériot made his first appearance on
this occasion after the death of Mme. Malibran. The court and most
distinguished people of Belgium were present on this occasion, and so
great was the impression made on musicians that the Philharmonic Society
caused two medals to be struck for De Bériot and Mlle. Garcia, the mold
of which was broken immediately. Pauline Garcia, in company with De
Bériot, gave a series of concerts through Belgium and Germany, and it
soon became evident that a new star of the first magnitude was rising in
the musical firmament. In Germany many splendid gifts were showered on
her. The Queen of Prussia sent her a superb suite of emeralds, and Mme.
Sontag, with whom she sang at Frankfort, gave the young cantatrice a
valuable testimonial, which was alike an expression of her admiration
of Pauline Garcia and a memento of her regard for the name of the great
Malibran, whose passionate strains had hardly ceased lingering in the
ears of Europe. Paris first gathered its musical forces to hear the new
singer at the Théâtre de la Renaissance, December 15, 1838, eager to
compare her with Malibran. Among other numbers on the concert programme,
she gave a very difficult air by Costa, which had been a favorite song
of her sister's, an _aria bravura_ by De Bériot, and the "Cadence du
Diable," imitated from "Tartini's Dream," which she accompanied with
marvelous skill and delicacy. She shortly appeared again, and she
was supported by Rubini, Lablache, and Ivanhoff. The Parisian critics
recognized the precision, boldness, and brilliancy of her musical style
in the most unstinted expressions of praise. But England was the country
selected by her for the theatrical _début_ toward which her ambition
burned--England, which dearly loved the name of Garcia, so resplendent
in the art-career of Mme. Malibran.
Her appearance in the London world was under peculiar conditions, which,
while they would enhance the greatness of success, would be almost
certainly fatal to anything short of the highest order of ability. The
meteoric luster of Mali-bran's dazzling career was still fresh in the
eyes of the public. The Italian stage was filled by Mme. Grisi, who,
in personal beauty and voice, was held nearly matchless, and had
an established hold on the public favor. Another great singer, Mme.
Persiani, reigned through the incomparable finish of her vocalization,
and the musical world of London was full of distinguished artists,
whose names have stood firm as landmarks in the art. The new Garcia,
who dashed so boldly into the lists, was a young, untried, inexperienced
girl, who had never yet appeared in opera. One can fancy the excitement
and curiosity when Pauline stepped before the footlights of the King's
Theatre, May 9, 1839, as _Desdemona_ in "Otello," which had been the
vehicle of Malibran's first introduction to the English public. The
reminiscence of an eminent critic, who was present, will be interesting.
"Nothing stranger, more incomplete in its completeness, more unspeakably
indicating a new and masterful artist can be recorded than that first
appearance. She looked older than her years; her frame (then a mere
reed) quivered this way and that; her character dress seemed to puzzle
her, and the motion of her hands as much. Her voice was hardly settled
even within its own after conditions; and yet, juaradoxical as it may
seem, she was at ease on the stage; because she brought thither instinct
for acting, experience of music, knowledge how to sing, and consummate
intelligence. There could be no doubt, with any one who saw that
_Desdemona_ on that night, that another great career was begun.... All
the Malibran fire, courage, and accomplishment were in it, and (some of
us fancied) something more beside."
Pauline Garcia's voice was a rebel which she had had to subdue, not a
vassal to command, like the glorious organ of Mme. Grisi, but her harsh
and unmanageable notes had been tutored by a despotic drill into great
beauty and pliancy. Like that of her sister in quality, it combined the
two registers of contralto and soprano from low F to C above the lines,
but the upper part of an originally limited mezzo-soprano had been
literally fabricated by an iron discipline, conducted by the girl
herself with all the science of a master. Like Malibran, too, she had in
her voice the soul-stirring tone, the sympathetic and touching character
by which the heart is thrilled. Her singing was expressive, descriptive,
thrilling, full, equal and just, brilliant and vibrating, especially in
the medium and in the lower chords. Capable of every style of art, it
was adapted to all the feelings of nature, but particularly to outbursts
of grief, joy, or despair. "The dramatic coloring which her voice
imparts to the slightest shades of feeling and passion is a real
phenomenon of vocalization which can not be analyzed," says Escudier.
"No singer we ever heard, with the exception of Malibran," says another
critic, "could produce the same effect by means of a few simple notes.
It is neither by the peculiar power, the peculiar depth, nor the
peculiar sweetness of these tones that the sensation is created, but by
something indescribable in the quality which moves you to tears in the
very hearing."
Something of this impression moved the general mind of connoisseurs on
her first dramatic appearance. Her style, execution, voice, expression,
and manner so irresistibly reminded her fellow-performers of the
lamented Malibran, that tears rolled down their cheeks, yet there
was something radically different withal peculiar to the singer. This
singular resemblance led to a curious incident afterward in Paris. A
young lady was taking a music-lesson from Lablache, who had lodgings in
the same house with Mlle. Garcia. The basso was explaining the manner in
which Malibran gave the air they were practicing. Just then a voice was
heard in the adjoining room singing the cavatina--the voice of Mdlle.
Garcia. The young girl was struck with a fit of superstitious terror as
if she had seen a phantom, and fainted away on her seat.
Yet in person there was but a slight resemblance between the two
sisters. Pauline had a tall, slender figure in her youth, and her
physiognomy, Jewish in its cast, though noble and expressive, was so far
from being handsome that when at rest the features were almost harsh in
their irregularity. But, as in the case of many plain women, emotion and
sensibility would quickly transfigure her face into a marvelous beauty
and fascination, far beyond the loveliness of line and tint. Her
forehead was broad and intellectual, the hair jet-black, the complexion
pale, the large, black eyes ardent and full of fire. Her carriage was
singularly majestic and easy, and a conscious nobility gave her bearing
a loftiness which impressed all beholders.
Her singing and acting in _Desdemona_ made a marked sensation. Though
her powers were still immature, she flooded the house with a stream of
clear, sweet, rich melody, with the apparent ease of a bird. Undismayed
by the traditions of Mali-bran, Pasta, and Sontag in this character,
she gave the part a new reading, in which she put something of her own
intense individuality. "By the firmness of her step, and the general
confidence of her deportment," said a contemporary writer, "we were at
first induced to believe that she was not nervous; but the improvement
of every succeeding song, and the warmth with which she gave the latter
part of the opera, convinced us that her power must have been confined
by something like apprehension." Kubini was the _Otello_, Tamburini,
_Iago_, and Lablache, _Elmiro_. Her performance in "La Cenerentola"
confirmed the good opinion of the public. Her pure taste and perfect
facility of execution were splendidly exhibited. "She has," said a
critic, "more feeling than Mme. Cinti Da-moreau in the part in which
the greater portion of Europe has assigned to her the preeminence, and
execution even now in nearly equal perfection."
M. Viardot, a well-known French _littérateur_, was then director of the
Italian Opera in Paris, and he came to London to hear the new singer--in
whom he naturally felt a warm interest, as he had been an intimate
personal friend of Mme. Malibran. He was so delighted that he offered
her the position of prima donna for the approaching season, but
the timidity of the young girl of eighteen shrank from such a
responsibility, and she would only bind herself to appear for a few
nights. The French public felt a strong curiosity to hear the sister
of Mali-bran, and it was richly rewarded, for the magnificent style
in which she sang her parts in "Otello," "La Cenerentola," and "Il
Barbiere" stamped her position as that not only of a great singer, but a
woman of genius. The audacity and wealth of resource which she displayed
on the first representation of the latter-named opera wore worthy of
the daughter of Garcia and the sister of Malibran, Very imperfectly
acquainted with the music, she forgot an important part of the score.
Without any embarrassment, she instantly improvised not merely the
ornament, but the melody, pouring out a flood of dazzling vocalization
which elicited noisy enthusiasm. It was not Rossini's "Il Barbiere," but
it was successful in arousing a most flattering approbation. It may be
fancied, however, that, when she sang the _rôle_ of _Rosina_ a second
time, she knew the music as Rossini wrote it.