The next few years were divided between Paris and Vienna, and his operas passed out of Europe across the Atlantic and even reached Constantinople and Calcutta. Men distinguished in art, science and letters became his friends, and his income was constantly augmenting. But early in 1845 he was found one morning senseless upon his bedroom floor in Paris, and from that hour dated the dreadful decay of mind and body which ended at last in death on April 8, 1848, after several years passed in private lunatic asylums. His sensitive and susceptible nature, excited and worn by his eager and exhausting industry, and perhaps by some irregularities of life, had given warnings in intense headaches, and bewildering depressions, against which he had nerved himself with a destructive strain. The dreary imbecility of these later years made death welcome, when at last it came to him in Bergamo, whither he had been removed in the care of a nephew and his physician in the autumn of 1847. Bergamo gave him a noble funeral and assigned him a tomb in the cathedral beside that of his master, Mayer, who had died three years before, and in 1855 his brothers Giuseppe and Francesco erected a stately monument made by Vincenzo Vela. [Illustration: Fac-simile musical manuscript written by Donizetti.] Donizetti's life fell all within the most brilliant and inspiring period of Italian opera, touching the earlier great at its beginning, running parallel with other distinguished men and overlapping the rise of Verdi, Ricci and the elder writers of the present time. All things considered, it does not seem as if his talent could have been turned to better account, although his astonishing facility made him often take the quickest rather than the best way to reach his ends. But he had been so well grounded in the departments which Bellini avoided, and had pursued so much serious study, that although he was sometimes superficial he was never trivial, and the outlines of his scoring were correct even when they were badly filled. His own skill with instruments and his knowledge of vocalism were of immense advantage; because, being above all things a melodist, he could adapt his airs perfectly to their singers or to the instruments which were to carry them in accompaniment. His reading and his taste led him to select strong, sympathetic subjects, preferably historical or romantic, and his dramatic disposition enabled him to make his scenes expressive and captivating. He was fortunate and unusual in his ability to treat appropriately both humorous and serious subjects, and his melodies are eminent for their true sentiment no less than for their variety and the purely musical quality which makes them interesting and beautiful whether they be sung or played. His accompaniments are often thin and conventional arrays of simple chords, but when he is at his best they are full, rich in harmony and tone-color and enlightened by significant figures.