brought the most scrupulous exactitude of duty, that spirit of order which he possessed during the whole of his life, and an entire devotion to the prosperity of the establishment.  Severe and exacting toward the professors and servants as he was with himself, he brought with him little love in his connections with the artists placed under his authority.”  His official duties finished, this incessant worker occupied his time with original composition, or copying out the scores of other composers from memory.

Though habitually cold and severe in his manner during these latter years, there was a spring of playful tenderness beneath.  One day a child of great talent was brought by his father, a poor man, to see Cherubini.  The latter’s first exclamation was:  “This is not a nursing hospital for infants.”  Relenting somewhat, he questioned the boy, and soon discovered his remarkable talents.  The same old man was charmed and caressed the youngster, saying, “Bravo, my little friend!  But why are you here, and what can I do for you?” “A thing that is very easy, and which would make me very happy,” was the reply; “put me into the Conservatory.”  “It’s a thing done,” said Cherubini; “you are one of us.”  He afterward said to his friends playfully:  “I had to be careful about pushing the questions too far, for the baby was beginning to prove that he knew more about music than I did myself.”

His merciless criticism of his pupils did not surpass his own modesty and diffidence.  One day, when a symphony of Beethoven was about to be played at a concert, just prior to one of his own works, he said, “Now I am going to appear as a very small boy indeed.”  The mutual affection of Cherubini and Beethoven remained unabated through life, as is shown by the touching letter written by the latter just before his death, but which Cherubini did not receive till after that event.  The letter was as follows: 

Vienna, March 15,1823.

Highly esteemed Sir:  I joyfully take advantage of this opportunity to address you.

I have done so often in spirit, as I prize your theatrical works beyond others.  The artistic world has only to lament that in Germany, at least, no new dramatic work of yours has appeared.  Highly as all your works are valued by true connoisseurs, still it is a great loss to art not to possess any fresh production of your great genius for the theatre.

True art is imperishable, and the true artist feels heartfelt pleasure in grand works of genius, and that id what enchants me when I hear a new composition of yours; in fact, I take greater interest in it than in my own; in short, I love and honor you.  Were it not that my continued bad health stops my coming to see you in Paris, with what exceeding delight would I discuss questions of art with you!  Do not think that this is meant merely to serve as an introduction to the favor I am about to ask of you.  I hope and feel sure that you do not for a moment suspect me of such base sentiments.  I recently completed a grand solemn Mass, and have resolved to offer it to the various European courts, as it is not my intention to publish it at present.  I have therefore asked the King of France, through the French embassy here, to subscribe to this work, and I feel certain that his Majesty would at your recommendation agree to do so.