William Vincent Wallace’s Wild Life

William Vincent Wallace—the composer of the light, popular opera *Maritana*—lived a life that reads like an adventure novel.

Born in Ireland, he married young. Yet on the wedding journey his wife became jealous of the attention he paid to her own sister, who was traveling with them. The couple separated and never met again.

Shaken by that break, Wallace drifted to Australia and lived out in the rough “bush.” In Sydney, acquaintances discovered that the man they took for an ordinary immigrant was actually a fine musician and excellent violinist. Word reached the colony’s Governor, who insisted Wallace give a concert. It was a great success—and the Governor rewarded him with a hundred sheep, which served as a kind of local currency at the time.

Wallace later went to Tasmania and narrowly escaped being killed to provide a “holiday” for locals; on another occasion, a chief’s daughter saved him in a romantic intervention. After that he joined a whaling voyage and survived a shipwreck—only he and three companions made it out. He then traveled to India, playing at the sumptuous courts of several princes, and later to South America, where he crossed the continent on muleback. He reached North America, and eventually landed in London with a handsome sum earned from performing.

In London, in 1845, he set himself to composing an opera: *Maritana*. The hit was big enough to launch more similar works. As his eyesight began to fail, he returned to the Americas and endured more misadventures: a steamboat he traveled on blew up, and he barely escaped with his life; in New York he lost nearly all his savings in the failure of a pianoforte factory. He rebuilt his fortunes through concert‑giving, and his eventful career ended in the Pyrenees in 1865.