composers and opera-goers in opposing ranks, but even brought courtiers, the nobility and members of the royal family into fierce antagonism. In the midst of all this small turbulence Méhul had carried himself with even poise, working for the best interest of his art and always true to its canons, though he made many tentative innovations when fortune frowned upon him. At a time of more than ordinary dissipation and immorality, he maintained the highest moral principles and a sterling manhood. It was but natural, therefore, that such a man should have been mourned sincerely, and it may have added to public admiration that he had reached his high distinction by his own efforts, rising from rude and obscure beginnings to the summit of European fame. Méhul was the legitimate successor of Gluck. It was that composer’s “Iphigénie,” as we have seen, that first caught his fancy, fired his ambition and directed his attention to dramatic composition. It was owing to Gluck himself, who at once recognized the ability of the young musician, that his feet were set in the right path, and it was to his advice and instruction—the instruction of a friend rather than of a teacher—that he owed his discovery and appreciation of the dramatic quality of music. Other composers, among them Cherubini, had a certain influence upon him, but Gluck was the all in all of his system, the source of his inspiration and the dominant element of his methods of treatment. He clung to dramatic truth with as much tenacity as did the great author of “Orpheus” and the “Iphigénias” and strove with the same earnestness to make his music a close and perspicuous illustration of the text, and to keep it elevated in style. Meanwhile his own nature was assisting him. Style and character are closely related, and Méhul’s music is a reflection of his own personal traits, namely, refinement of sentiment, seriousness and earnestness of presence, strong religious tendencies as shown in the opera—or shall we not call it oratorio—of “Joseph,” and nobility of character as shown in all his dramatic work. His style is always elevated, though at times he made the effort to unite light and graceful melodies of the effervescent and short-lived sort which find so much favor on the French stage. He was not successful in these, however. He was more at home in passion and pathos, in strong, broad motives, rich harmony and ingenious and elaborate accompaniments. In a word, his standards, like those of Gluck, in whose steps he followed so closely, were classical and of the highest romantic type. At times he was daring and ingenious in his innovations, as in “Ariodant,” where four horns and three ’cellos carry on an animated conversation; in “Phrosine et Mélidore,” where four horns have a full part in the score; and in “Uthal,” where the violas are substituted for the violins, as already has been mentioned. These, however, were only experiments,