and fellow pupil Weber, also found in his heart an eloquent echo.  But Meyerbeer resolutely disenthralled himself from what he appeared to have regarded as trammels, and followed out an ambition to be a cosmopolitan composer.  In pursuit of this purpose he divested himself of that fine flavor of individuality and devotion to art for its own sake which marks the highest labors of genius.  He can not be exempted from the criticism that he regarded success and the immediate plaudits of the public as the only satisfactory rewards of his art.  He had but little of the lofty content which shines out through the vexed and clouded lives of such souls as Beethoven and Gluck in music, of Bacon and Milton in literature, who looked forward to immortality of fame as the best vindication of their work.  A marked characteristic of the man was a secret dissatisfaction with all that he accomplished, making him restless and unhappy, and extremely sensitive to criticism.  With this was united a tendency at times to oscillate to the other extreme of vaingloriousness.  An example of this was a reply to Rossini one night at the opera when they were listening to “Robert le Diable.”  The “Swan of Pesaro” was a warm admirer of Meyerbeer, though the latter was a formidable rival, and his works had largely replaced those of the other in popular repute.  Sitting together in the same box, Rossini, in his delight at one portion of the opera, cried out in his impulsive Italian way, “If you can write anything to surpass this, I will undertake to dance upon my head.”  “Well, then,” said Meyerbeer, “you had better soon commence practicing, for I have just commenced the fourth act of ’Les Huguenots.’” Well might he make this boast, for into the fourth act of his musical setting of the terrible St. Bartholomew tragedy he put the finest inspirations of his life.

Singular to say, though he himself represented the very opposite pole of art spirit and method, Mozart was to him the greatest of his predecessors.  Perhaps it was this very fact, however, which was at the root of his sentiment of admiration for the composer of “Don Giovanni” and “Le Nozze di Figaro.”  A story is told to the effect that Meyerbeer was once dining with some friends, when a discussion arose respecting Mozart’s position in the musical hierarchy.  Suddenly one of the guests suggested that “certain beauties of Mozart’s music had become stale with age.  I defy you,” he continued, “to listen to ‘Don Giovanni’ after the fourth act of the ‘Huguenots.’” “So much the worse, then, for the fourth act of the ‘Huguenots,’” said Meyerbeer, furious at the clumsy compliment paid to his own work at the expense of his idol.