It would do no good for me to write to ——, and it might do you harm. When you left New York I expected Mrs. Howard’s brothers would be in England when you arrived there, and I calculated upon their selecting for you some person to act as your friendly adviser in case of need; but they returned earlier than I expected, and arrived in New York about the time you landed at Liverpool. Under these circumstances I see no way for you but to do right yourself, and trust that some distinguished friend will be raised up to you, who has influence and discretion, and who will be willing to tell you what is best, and will stand up as your protector and defender in case of need; and it seems to me, that such a one can be found among your numerous patrons. I know well your honest heart, and I know too that you would rather suffer wrong than do wrong; but it is necessary to you that you be respected, and if —— will not give you money for your necessary expenses he is cheating you; and if he cheats you now, he will continue to do so.
Now, I would advise you to select some person in whom you have confidence—show him this letter, and then do just what he shall advise. You will see by the contract that —— is bound to let you have money, for all necessary expenses, whether you make money or not; and he is bound to keep a secretary, whose business—among other things—is to show you at all times how your account with Mr. —— stands, as regards receipts from concerts, &c., and expenses paid out for the same. If you cannot make —— do this, I would advise you to leave him any way.
In selecting a friend to advise you, be careful and not select one who has any interest in deceiving you, or who would advise you to do any dishonourable act towards Mr. —— or any one else; for I would rather see you return a beggar than with the name of dishonour or meanness of any kind. If —— acts fairly by you, do the same to him, whether you make money or not;—and this I know you will do, if you can determine what is right.
My health is now improving, and I feel quite myself again. Mrs. Howard and the children have been quite well since you left, and your baby is growing finely. It begins to say pa, pa! and ma ma! and stands by the sofa and chairs; but you won’t know it when you return, for its hair is losing its curl and becoming somewhat the colour of my own. We still call her Greenfield, although some of Mrs. Howard’s would-be friends are much shocked at it. However, Mrs. Howard says you took good care of it when she was not able to; and she thinks the name just as good as the care you gave it. Sarah is improving rapidly in her music, and both she and Mary are making good progress at school. Monsieur and Madame St. Kenney often ask about you, as well as many other of your old friends.
You must keep yourself prudent and discreet, and you will find in England many who will not see you wronged. But I trust that —— will do right by you, and that you will not have occasion to tax the good offices of any kind friends, that may be made by you while away from your native land. Mrs. Howard and the children send their kindest remembrance and regards to yourself and Anna. Write to me every week, that I may know how you are getting along; and, as my health is improving, I will write to you as often as I think it will be of benefit to you. Truly, your friend,
H. E. Howard.
P. S. Should you have any trouble with —— and need the original of your contract, I can send it to you by some of the steamers in a short time.
H. E. H.
It may, perhaps, be considered a providential concurrence that Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe was in London this same time with Miss Greenfield. We notice in her “Sunny Memories,” under the date of May 6th, the following remarks, “A good many calls this morning. Among others, came Miss Greenfield, the (so-called) Black Swan. She appears to be a gentle, amiable, and interesting young person. She was born the slave of a kind mistress, who gave her every thing but education; and, dying, left her free with a little property. The property she lost by some legal quibble, but she had, like others of her race, a passion for music, and could sing and play by ear. A young lady, discovering her taste, gave her a few lessons. She has a most astonishing voice. C. sat down to the piano and played while she sung. Her voice runs through a compass of three octaves and a fourth. This is four notes more than Malibran’s. She sings a most magnificent tenor, with such a breadth and volume of sound, that with your back turned, you could not imagine it to be a woman. While she was there, Mrs. S. C. Hall, of the Irish Sketches, was announced. I told her of Miss Greenfield, and she took great interest in her and requested her to sing something for her. C. played the accompaniment, and she sung Old Folks at Home, first in a soprano voice, and then in a tenor or barytone. Mrs. Hall was amazed and delighted, and entered at once into her cause. She said she would call with me and present her to Sir George Smart, who is at the head of the Queen’s musical establishment, and, of course, the acknowledged leader of London musical judgment.”
In the course of the day I had a note from Mrs. Hall, saying, that as Sir George Smart was about leaving town, she had not waited for me, but had taken Miss Greenfield to him herself. She writes that he was really astonished and charmed at the wonderful weight, compass, and power of her voice. He was also as well pleased with the mind in her singing, and her quickness in doing and catching all that he told her. Should she have a public opportunity to perform, he offered to hear her rehearse beforehand. Mrs. Hall says, “This is a great deal for him, whose hours are all marked with gold.”