Two years later he made his debut at the Academie in “Guillaume Tell,” and his novel and striking reading of his part on this occasion contributed largely to his fame.  He was a leading figure at this theatre for twelve years, and was the first representative of many important tenor roles, among which may be mentioned those of “Benvenuto Cellini,” “Les Martyrs,” “La Favorita,” “Dom Sebastien,” “Otello,” and “Lucia.”  Duprez was insignificant, even repellent in his appearance, but, in spite of these defects, his tragic passion and the splendid intelligence displayed in his vocal art gave him a deserved prominence.  Duprez composed many songs and romances, chamber-music, two masses, and eight operas, and was the author of a highly esteemed musical method, which is still used at the Conservatoire, where he was a professor of singing.

Another name linked with not a few of Mme. Viardot’s triumphs is that of Ronconi, a name full of pleasant recollections, too, for many of the opera-goers of the last generation in the United States.  There have been only a few lyric actors more versatile and gifted than he, or who have achieved their rank in the teeth of so many difficulties and disadvantages.  His voice was limited in compass, inferior in quality, and habitually out of tune, his power of musical execution mediocre, his physical appearance entirely without grace, picturesqueness, or dignity.  Yet Ronconi, by sheer force of a versatile dramatic genius, delighted audiences in characters which had been made familiar to the public through the splendid personalities of Tamburini and Lablache, personalities which united all the attributes of success on the lyric stage—­noble physique, grand voice, the highest finish of musical execution, and the actor’s faculty.  What more unique triumph can be fancied than such a one violating all the laws of probability?  Ronconi’s low stature and commonplace features could express a tragic passion which could not be exceeded, or an exuberance of the wildest, quaintest, most spontaneous comedy ever born of mirth’s most airy and tameless humor.  Those who saw Ronconi’s acting in this country saw the great artist as a broken man, his powers partly wrecked by the habitual dejection which came of domestic suffering and professional reverses, but spasmodic gleams of his old energy still lent a deep interest to the work of the artist, great even in his decadence.  In giving some idea of the impression made by Ronconi at his best, we can not do better than quote the words of an able critic:  “There have been few such examples of terrible courtly tragedy in Italian opera as Signor Ronconi’s Chevreuse, the polished demeanor of his earlier scenes giving a fearful force of contrast to the latter ones when the torrent of pent-up passion nears the precipice.  In spite of the discrepancy between all our ideas of serious and sentimental music and the old French dresses, which we are accustomed to associate with the Dorantes and Alcestes