The Italian tenor was a great friend of Garcia, and the latter used to tell many anecdotes of him. One of these I will quote. When in London once, Mario and his wife, Grisi, decided upon giving a wonderful luncheon to a large party of their friends, among the number being Señor Garcia. The total cost may be imagined from the fact that they paid £80 for some dessert and other light delicacies for the table, sent specially over from Paris. After all had assembled Grisi suddenly exclaimed, "It is far too hot to eat anything here. Let us drive out to Richmond for lunch. It will be far pleasanter." No sooner said than done, and carriages sufficient to accommodate the entire party were at once ordered. A telegram was sent on in advance, so that on their arrival at Richmond another magnificent lunch was awaiting them. Mario, without a thought, left behind at his own house the two-hundred guinea luncheon to waste its sweetness on the servants' hall.

It was in this year that the terrors of the Franco-Prussian War, to which we have already alluded, drove to London large numbers of refugees, many of them celebrities connected with the leading musical and dramatic institutions of Paris. It was a golden opportunity for music-lovers. At Covent Garden there were Adelina Patti, Lucca, Scalchi, Tamberlik, Mario, Bettini, Faure, Cotogni, Tagliafico; at Her Majesty's, Christine Nillson, Tietjens, Trebelli, Marimon, Ilma di Murska, Mongini, Gardoni, Capoul, Wachtel, Agnesi, Rota, Santley, Foli, and Carl Formes. In the concert-room there were to be heard the still marvellous voices of Alboni, Carlotta Patti, and Sims Reeves; or the glorious playing of Sivori, Vieuxtemps, Wieniawski, Neruda, Joachim, Clara Schumann, and Alfredo Piatti.

Then among the French refugees were the members of the Comédie Française, and these gave a memorable series of representations at one of the London theatres, selecting for it most of the gems of their matchless repertoire, with casts that included such artists as Got, Delauny, Mounet-Sully, Worms, Febvre, the Coquelins, Sarah Bernhardt (who during this season was making her London début), Blanche Pierson, Bartet, Barretta, Reichemberg, and Samary.

The following year, 1872, saw the début at Covent Garden of Albani. Later in the year, after the close of the opera season, a "fantastical spectacle" by Dion Boucicault and Planché was produced at the Opera House, under the title of "Babil and Bijou," in which took part Mrs Howard Paul, Lionel Brough, and Joseph Maas.

Finally, in 1873, Gye gathered round him a bevy of stars which included Patti, Lucca, and Albani; Scalchi, Sinico, and Monbelli; Nicolini, Bettini, Graziani, Cotogni, Maurel, and Faure.

CHAPTER XVII.
THREE-SCORE YEARS AND TEN.
(1874-1890.)

"EVERY year a man lives, he is worth less." This is what Manuel Garcia used to assert when he was drawing near to the completion of those three-score years and ten which have been set down as the natural span of human life. As far as his own career was concerned, however, the statement was singularly lacking in truth. His mode of living at the age of seventy has been well described by Hermann Klein, his pupil, friend, and collaborator in the final text-book, 'Hints on Singing,' published some twenty years later, when the veteran musician was over ninety years of age.

Mr Klein has been kind enough to send over from New York some interesting reminiscences for insertion in this chapter.

In the year 1874 Mr Klein's parents occupied a large house at the corner of Bentinck Street and Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, and I will leave the sometime musical critic of 'The Sunday Times' to tell the story of the next few months.

"I find by a letter of my mother's," he writes, "that Señor Garcia first called to see her at 1 Bentinck Street in November 1873, and took the rooms on the ground floor on a yearly agreement from the following March. He moved in punctually on Lady Day 1874, bringing with him his trusty Erard grand piano (which had even then seen considerable wear, but continued to serve him faithfully at 'Mon Abri' to the last); also the noble bust of Beethoven, which used to stand upon a marble ledge or shelf fixed permanently to the wall between the two windows. The piano stood in the middle of the room, and he always took care to place his pupils so that the light fell full upon their faces. I recollect my mother asking him if he would like another mirror besides the one over the mantelpiece. He replied, 'No, it is not necessary. I don't want my pupils to be looking at themselves all the time. They have to look at me.'