erment,
and he sung the solo part in "Mozart's Requiem" at the funeral, as he
had when a child sung the contralto part in the same mass at Hadyn's
obsequies. He was the recipient of orders and medals from nearly every
sovereign in Europe. When he was thus honored by the Emperor of Russia
in 1856, he used the prophetic words, "These will do to ornament my
coffin." Two years afterward he died at Naples, January 23, 1858,
whither he had gone to try the effects of the balmy climate of his
native city on his failing health. His only daughter married Thalberg,
the pianist. He was the singing master of Queen Victoria, and he is
frequently mentioned in her published diaries and letters in terms of
the strongest esteem and admiration. His death drew out expressions
of profound sorrow from all parts of Europe, for it was felt that, in
Lablache, the world of song had lost one of the greatest lights which
had starred its brilliant record.

IV.

But of all the great men-singers with whom the Grisi was associated
no one was so intimately connected with her career as the tenor Mario.
Their art partnership was in later years followed by marriage, but
it was well known that a passionate and romantic attachment sprang up
between these two gifted singers long before a dissolution of Grisi's
earlier union permitted their affection to be consecrated by the Church.
Mario, Conte di Candia, the scion of a noble family, was born at Genoa
in 1812. His father had been a general in the army at Piedmont, and
he himself at the time of his first visit to Paris in 1836 carried
his sovereign's commission. The fascinating young Italian officer was
welcomed in the highest circles, for his splendid physical beauty,
and his art-talents as an amateur in music, painting, and sculpture,
separated him from all others, even in a throng of brilliant and
accomplished men. He had often been told that he had a fortune in his
voice, but his pride of birth had always restrained him from a career
to which his own secret tastes inclined him, in spite of the fact that
expensive tastes cooperated with a meager allowance from his father to
plunge him deeply in debt. At last the moment of successful temptation
came. Duponchel, the director of the Opera, made him a tempting offer,
for good tenors were very difficult to secure then as in the later days
of the stage.

The young Count Candia hesitated to sign his father's name to a
contract, but he finally compromised th