with a mincing step. He sang the soprano score so admirably,
burlesquing the action of the prima donna, but showing far greater
powers of execution than she possessed, that his hearers were
captivated. He did not shirk even the duets, but sang the woman's part
in falsetto, and his own in his natural voice.

He retired in 1859, and died at Nice in 1876.

Luigi Lablache, the basso of the "Puritani" quartet, is considered by
many authorities to have been the greatest artist among men that ever
appeared in opera. In stature he was a giant, and we are told that one
of his boots would make a good portmanteau or one of his gloves would
clothe an infant. His strength was enormous, and his voice magnificent;
the vibration thereof was so tremendous that it was dangerous for him to
sing in a greenhouse, though why this particular danger is noted must be
left to conjecture, for there is no record in history to show that it
was customary or essential to sing in greenhouses.

Anecdotes of Lablache's generosity and noble character are plentiful,
and there are some also which show that he was a lover of good jokes. Of
these, perhaps the following is the most amusing. Once when the
"Puritani" quartet was in Paris, Lablache was quartered at the same
hotel as General Tom Thumb, who was delighting audiences at a
vaudeville. An English tourist, who was making strenuous efforts to meet
Tom Thumb, burst into the great basso's apartment, but seeing such a
giant, hesitated, and apologized, saying that he was looking for Tom
Thumb. "I am he," said Lablache, in his deepest tones. The Englishman,
taken flat aback, exclaimed: "But you were much smaller when I saw you
on the stage yesterday." "Yes," replied Lablache; "that is how I have to
appear, but when I get home to my own rooms I let myself out and enjoy
myself," and he proceeded to entertain his visitor.

In his student days Lablache was so dominated by the desire to appear on
the stage that he ran away from the conservatorium no less than five
times, each time being caught and brought back in disgrace. On one
occasion he engaged himself to sing at Salerno for fifteen ducats a
month, and received a month's pay in advance. He lingered two days in
Naples and spent his money, apparently also disposing of most of his
clothes. As he could not well appear at Salerno without luggage, he
filled his portmanteau with sand, and set forth. A couple of days later
he was captured by the vice-president of