We have seen the admiration which Pauline Viardot had aroused in many composers besides Brahms. One may add to the list the name of Robert Schumann, for he dedicated to her his beautiful Liederkreis, op. 24. Nor was Señor Garcia's sister unknown as a writer of music, for she has been responsible for many beautiful compositions. After spending some five years in Baden-Baden, Mme. Viardot was forced to leave the town on the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War, owing to her husband being of French nationality. They made their way at once to London, where Manuel Garcia was residing, and of the months which they spent there I shall have something to say later, since Mme. Noufflard, the daughter of Lady Hallé, has given some interesting reminiscences of that period. When things had become sufficiently quiet again Mme. Viardot decided to settle in Paris, and there she has resided ever since. And what of her life in recent years, in her grand retirement? The year 1905, which saw her brother celebrating his centenary, found her in splendid old age after many years of widowhood, approaching her eighty-fifth birthday; living in a handsome house in the Boulevard St Germain; strong, tall, and of dignified bearing, her hazel eyes still retaining their true Spanish brilliance; her voice clear and well-sustained; herself full of vivacity, and with a memory no less remarkable than that of her brother; full of enthusiasm for music and art, a grandmother, with the most charming smile and magnetic gaiety, and still able to add to the number of her musical compositions. A true Garcia. One might well be tempted to dwell still further on that wonderful personality, laying stress on her care as a teacher, on her beneficent work among the artists whom she instructed, after they had journeyed from all directions, from the New World as well as the Old, to place themselves in her hands. One longs to paint her amid her home surroundings, in an atmosphere vibrating with music, bathed in art; one longs to show that lovable serenity, that wonderful gaiety and prodigious activity, which perhaps strike one most of all. This little sketch of her career will be brought to an end by a quotation from a letter, in which one may appreciate the exquisite turn which she gives to every phrase and thought:-- " ...Mais où trouver le temps de faire ce qu'on voudrait? C'est à peine si on arrive à faire ce qu'on doit! En vieillissant, le temps passe de plus en plus vite et vous entraîne d'une course vertigineuse vers le _Grand Inconnu!_ sans arrêt, sans repos, sans pitié. Il y aura peut-être dans le ciel une immense bibliothèque, où les œuvres du génie seront rassemblées, et je me promets d'y faire de fameuses séances de lectures!..." It is the letter of a moment, but the sentiments, which she expresses so beautifully, are those of an eternity. [Illustration: _Photo by_ _W. & D. Downey._ Yours sincerely Jenny Goldschmidt] CHAPTER X. JENNY LIND. (1841-1842.)