Upon St Patrick's Day, 1905, Manuel Garcia entered on the "second century of his immortality," as Professor Fränkel felicitously put it. That 17th of March has become red-lettered in the annals of music by reason of its international character, and the fact that the two professions of music and medicine joined hands with the royalty of three countries, England, Spain, and Germany, in paying honour to whom honour was due. Sir George Cornewall Lewis was a firm disbeliever in centenarians, but his scepticism must have suffered a severe shock could he have been present at the celebrations. He would then have seen not merely a man whose years beyond all question numbered a century, but one who at that great age showed no sign of senility, and could still take an active part in a series of trying ceremonies, and bear with dignity, if not altogether without fatigue, a load of honours and congratulations, a flood of speeches like the rushing of great waters, and repeated thunderstorms of applause that would have overwhelmed many men in the full vigour of life. Manuel Garcia went through the trying ordeal without apparently feeling any ill effect, and seemed thoroughly to enjoy the whole thing. It was difficult indeed to believe that the venerable figure on the right of the chairman at the banquet, whom one saw light a cigarette and smoke it with relish in defiance of the Anti-Tobacco League, was born seven months before the battle of Trafalgar! It was passing strange, as one saw him giving the lie in every point to Shakespeare's picture of extreme age, to think that he might not only have "seen Shelley plain," but have been one of the students who modelled their collars and their scowls on those of Byron; that he had finished his education before Pasteur was born, and had come to man's estate before Lister saw the light; that he had made his name known on two continents while Scott and Goethe were still alive, and Darwin was at school; and that he had made the discovery that will make his name immortal while many of those whose names are now illustrious were yet unborn. How quick were his senses and how alert his intelligence was shown in many ways, trifling, perhaps, but significant, in the course of what must have been the most trying day of his long life. His extraordinary vitality was put to a very severe test in the functions held in honour of the occasion, but he passed through them with the most wonderful fortitude and genial courtliness. When the King heard of the approaching birthday, he made inquiries as to whether the aged maestro could stand the strain of personal investiture of the honour which his Majesty had already decided to bestow. The answer came back that he was quite ready, and anxious to show his gratitude for this royal compliment by going to the palace.