LONDON, _1859._

DEAREST A.,--We arrived here, as we intended, on the 27th.... We easily

found Garcia's address, and drove there without delay. I was very anxious

to see the "greatest singing master in the world," and there he was

standing before me, looking very much as I had imagined him; but not like

any one I had ever seen before. He has grayish hair and a black mustache,

expressive big eyes, and such a fascinating smile! Mama said, having heard

of his great reputation, she wished that he would consent to give me a

_few_ lessons. He smiled, and answered that, if I would kindly sing

something for him, he could better judge how much teaching I required. I

replied--I was so sure of myself--that, if he would accompany "Qui la

voce," I would sing that. "Ha, ha!" he cried, with a certain sarcasm. "By

all means let us have that," and sat down before the piano while I spread

out the music before him. I sang, and thought I sang very well; but he

just looked up into my face with a very quizzical expression, and said,

"How long have you been singing, Mademoiselle?" Mama answered for me

before I could speak. "She has sung, Monsieur, since she was a very small

child."

He was not at all impressed by this, but said, "I thought so." Then he

continued. "You say you would like to take some lessons of me?" I was

becoming very humble, and said, meekly, that I hoped he would give me

some. "Well, Mademoiselle, you have a very wonderful voice, but you have

not the remotest idea how to sing." What a come-down! I, who thought I had

only to open my mouth to be admired, and only needed a _few_ finishing

touches to make me perfect, to be told that I had "not the remotest idea

how to sing"!

Mama and I both gasped for breath, and I could have cried for

disappointment as well as mortification. However, I felt he was right,

and, strange to say, mama felt so too. He said, "Take six months' rest and

don't sing a single note, then come back to me." When he saw the

crestfallen look on my face, he added, kindly, "Then we shall see

something wonderful."

We leave for Dresden this evening.... Love to all.

In the Courts of Memory, 1858-1875; from Contemporary Letters · 第 9 / 153 题