Until Antoinette Sterling commenced her training under him she used the full extent of her voice, singing from the D below middle C to the top soprano C sharp—a range of three octaves. She sang all the contralto arias from opera and oratorio, and at the same time felt equally at home with the soprano rôles.
The first thing her new master did on hearing her was to make the remark, "If you continue as you have been doing, do you know what will happen? Look at this piece of elastic. I take it firmly at the two ends and stretch it. What is the result? It becomes thin in the middle. If I were to continue to do this constantly, it would get weaker and weaker, until finally it would break. It is thus with the human voice. Cultivate an extended range, and keep on singing big notes at both extremes, and the same thing will occur which we have seen with the elastic. Your voice will gradually weaken in the middle. If you persist in this course long enough, it will break, and the organ be rendered useless." For this reason he strongly advised her to abandon the higher notes, confining herself to genuine contralto music. Moreover, with the reduced range, he told her strictly to avoid practising on the extremes, to use them as little as possible, and build up her voice by exercising the middle portion of it. It is an invaluable hint for all singers. His pupil realised the wisdom of what he said, and from that time onwards ceased to use the top half octave of her voice.
After a return to America, during which she was engaged to sing at Dr Ward Beecher's church, she came over to England again to make her début. Señor Garcia heard of the forthcoming appearance of his old pupil, and tried to find out her address. She in her turn had lost that of the maestro. In consequence of this they did not have an opportunity of meeting again till the eventful evening had passed, and all London was ringing with the new contralto's praises. He had, of course, been present at Covent Garden, and at the end of her first song went round to the door of the artist's room to congratulate her. The attendant met him with the stereotyped reply, "We cannot let any one in." "But I insist—I must see her. She is my pupil." The request, however, was met with stolid indifference, and he was obliged to return to his seat.
When, finally, they did meet again, she at once recommenced her lessons, and these were continued, as regularly as engagements would permit, until seven years after her début.
On July 5, 1869, Manuel Garcia was elected a member of the Committee of Management at the Royal Academy of Music, with which he had now been connected for twenty years.
Twelve months later he was brought to a sudden realisation of the catastrophe that shook Europe, for July saw the commencement of the Franco-Prussian War, all the French being ordered to leave German territory. In consequence of this edict Mme. Viardot was obliged to move from Baden-Baden, where she had been teaching; and, like many others, she made her way to England. On her arrival there with her husband she settled down in London near her brother, till the march of events rendered it possible for her to return to the Continent.
Of this period Mme. Noufflard, daughter of Lady Hallé, has given some recollections.
"While Mme. Viardot was taking refuge in London, her house was the rendezvous of every talent; and I well remember one evening, when serious music had given way to fun, Saint-Saëns sitting at the pianoforte to improvise the 'rising of the sun in a mountainous country.' In the twinkling of an eye Manuel Garcia cut out a large halo from a newspaper, and was seen slowly emerging from behind a high-backed chair, his full face, with its paper decoration, disclosing itself at the top, as the last triumphant chord was struck.