It has also been said that the founder of French opera, though humble and abject in the presence of the powerful, was proportionately insolent and despotic with his artists and the persons employed at the Opéra. It is true that Lully often flew into a passion and accused the performers of clumsiness, and he went so far, on one occasion, as to break the violin belonging to one of the members of the orchestra upon the head of the unfortunate performer, because he had failed to render a somewhat difficult passage in a satisfactory manner. The composer made amends for his violence, however, by presenting to the insulted violinist three times the value of the broken instrument, and also by inviting him to dinner. Apart from the acts he committed in moments of passion, Lully was a model director and far outshone any who preceded him. He found time to do everything; he composed, attended the court, saw to the _mise-en-scène_ of his operas, and superintended the rehearsals of both the vocal and instrumental elements of the piece. He paid great attention to the scenic effects, which were very complicated in that day, and being a clever comedian and an accomplished dancer, he acted as stage manager and general director of all dramatic performances. Lully married the daughter of Lambert, who is mentioned by Boileau in his third satire; and their union was a happy one. In the course of time the composer became wealthy, and the owner of several houses in Paris. His death was brought about by a curious accident. Louis XIV. having been ill, on his recovery, Lully composed, as a thanks-offering, a “Te Deum” which was performed under his direction at the Feuillants in the Rue Saint-Honoré, on the 8th of February, 1687. During one of the rehearsals Lully was beating time with his cane, and, in so doing, accidentally struck his toe, inflicting a bruise. The injury, which seemed at first nothing more than a slight concussion, speedily developed into a serious sore; an abscess appeared, and of such a malignant character that the doctors considered it would be necessary to amputate the affected part. Lully hesitated to sanction this extreme step, and in a short time it became a question, not of amputating merely the toe, but the entire foot. The patient would not consent to this, however, and the disease, making rapid progress, soon affected the whole leg, and the one hope of saving his life lay in the amputation of that member. Unfortunately, at the very moment when he appeared willing to undergo the operation, a quack came on the scene and offered to cure the patient without recourse to amputation; but the efforts of this empirical pretender were in vain, and the illustrious composer passed away at Paris, on Saturday, the 22d of March, 1687, aged fifty-four years. Of him Mme. de Sévigné wrote, after listening to some of his more serious music, “If there be music in heaven, it must be the music of Lully.”