THE five years preceding the celebration of Manuel Garcia's ninetieth birthday are principally noteworthy for two episodes, which I will leave Mr Hermann Klein to relate, since he was intimately connected with both.
The first took place during the summer of 1892.
"In the midst of this abnormally busy season, M. Maurel elected to deliver a lecture at the Lyceum Theatre on 'The Application of Science to the Arts of Speech and Song.' This duly came off, and its main feature proved to be an exceedingly virulent tirade against the coup de la glotte. This would not have mattered much had it not happened that Manuel Garcia himself was present, and had to 'possess his soul in patience,' while M. Maurel executed some ridiculous imitations of what he considered to be the indispensable vocal concomitants of the coup de la glotte,—a term derided only by certain Paris teachers who have misunderstood and misdirected its use.
"Age and dignity alike compelled Signor Garcia to sit still and treat with silent contempt this ill-timed and unjustifiable attack upon his method.
"When the lecture was over, however, I offered him the columns of 'The Sunday Times' as a medium for replying to M. Maurel's assertions.
"On the spur of the moment he accepted, and sent a short account of the lecture, written in his own terse and trenchant manner. Then thinking better of it, he decided not to take any personal part in the discussion, and requested me not to print his copy.
"This threw the onus of reply upon me, and the answer proved so far effectual that M. Maurel was moved to make a protest in other London papers against any contradiction of his 'scientific argumentation,' save by M. Garcia himself, and not even then unless supported by something beyond 'simple denial.'
"Accordingly, the maestro then consented to write a letter to 'The Sunday Times,' confirming the statement that he had found M. Maurel's illustrations of the coup de la glotte 'extremely exaggerated,' but declining that gentleman's invitation to discuss the subject-matter of his lecture, and adding that it would be utterly impossible to argue upon theories which still remain to be revealed."
The second episode took place shortly after the maestro had entered his ninetieth year,—an event which was celebrated at the Royal Academy of Music by the gift of a silver tea service, subscribed to by the professors of the R.A.M., the actual presentation being made by Walter Macfarren, as doyen of the teaching staff.
Some two months after this—that is to say, in the May of 1894—Hermann Klein received a letter from the veteran teacher, who a few days before had attended a dinner given at his house in honour of Paderewski, the other invited guests being Sir Arthur Sullivan, Sir Joseph Barnby, Sir A. C. Mackenzie, Signor Piatti, and other prominent musicians. The maestro, it may be mentioned, had never heard Paderewski play in private before, and was so enchanted when the latter sat down at the piano, that he remained listening to the music till past midnight. "A worthy successor to Rubinstein." This was his criticism of Paderewski's genius.