The musical pursuits of Frederick II. are interesting, but are too well known to be here circumstantially recorded. Suffice it to mention his singular behaviour on the occasion of the performance of Graun's 'Te Deum,' after the termination of the Seven Years' War, in 1763. The orchestra and singers who had assembled in the royal palace at Charlottenburg punctually at the time at which they had been ordered to appear, found to their surprise that there was no audience assembling. After having waited for about half an hour in suspense, wondering whether the performance of the 'Te Deum' was to take place, or whether they had been summoned by inadvertence, they observed a side door being opened at the end of the hall opposite to them, through which the King entered quite alone, without any attendance. He sat down on a chair in a corner, and made a sign to them to commence. At some of the full choruses, when all the voices united, he held his hands before his eyes to hide his tears. Several of the musicians who saw him became so much affected that the tears rolled down their cheeks while they played. At the end of the performance the King thanked them by a slight inclination of his head, and retired through the side door through which he had entered. This noble royal musician was, however, so prepossessed by the compositions of Graun, that hardly any composer, but such as wrote in Graun's style, had a chance of finding favour with him. Kirnberger, the celebrated theorist, in vain endeavoured to insinuate himself with the King by submitting to "His Majesty's approval" a new treatise of his on Thorough Bass. The treatise was soon returned to him with the following letter:-- "His Royal Majesty of Prussia, etc., our most gracious Lord, cannot persuade himself that the announced work of the Princely Chamber-musician Kirnberger, in Berlin, contains anything new, or particularly useful for the art of music, or for musical composition, considering that Thorough Bass was already brought to a certain perfection many years ago. This is, therefore, not to be withheld from the said Kirnberger, in reply to his solicitation of the day before yesterday. FRIEDERICH. Potsdam, February 25th, 1781." The Princess Amalia, a pupil of Kirnberger, was a great upholder of the rules of Thorough Bass, and a sharp critic. As Gluck did not care much about many of those dry rules, it is perhaps not surprising that the Princess Amalia did not care much about Gluck. What she thought of him she has expressed forcibly enough in the following extract from a letter to Kirnberger, who had sent her the opera 'Iphigenia in Tauris':--