fretful. He left Paris for Vienna in 1780, having amassed considerable
property. There, as an old, broken-down man, he listened to the young
Mozart's new symphonies and operas, and applauded them with great zeal;
for Gluck, though fiery and haughty in the extreme, was singularly
generous in recognizing the merits of others.

This was exhibited in Paris in his treatment of Méhul, the Belgian
composer, then a youth of sixteen, who had just arrived in the gay city.
It was on the eve of the first representation of "Iphigenia in Tauris,"
when the operatic battle was agitating the public. With all the ardor
of a novice and a devotee, the young musical student immediately threw
himself into the affray, and by the aid of a friend he succeeded in
gaining admittance to the theatre for the final rehearsal of Gluck's
opera. This so enchanted him that he resolved to be present at the
public performance. But, unluckily for the resolve, he had no money, and
no prospect of obtaining any; so, with a determination and a love for
art which deserve to be remembered, he decided to hide himself in one of
the boxes and there to wait for the time of representation.

"At the end of the rehearsal," writes George Hogarth in his "Memoirs
of the Drama," "he was discovered in his place of concealment by the
servants of the theatre, who proceeded to turn him out very roughly.
Gluck, who had not left the house, heard the noise, came to the
spot, and found the young man, whose spirit was roused, resisting the
indignity with which he was treated. Méhul, finding in whose presence
he was, was ready to sink with confusion; but, in answer to Gluck's
questions, he told him that he was a young musical student from the
country, whose anxiety to be present at the performance of the opera
had led him into the commission of an impropriety. Gluck, as may be
supposed, was delighted with a piece of enthusiasm so flattering to