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an opponent or even as a passive resister; nor did he leave anything undone to gain the favour of its successive governments. On the contrary, considering the sympathy he inspires in other respects, one is rather disconcerted at the tenacious eagerness he shewed in trying to curry favour—indeed in one case he went rather far. But after all, this fine poet, a perfectly sincere man in private life, a good husband, a tender father, a man of talent, was also a peasant, as much set upon making money as he was keen to work; his task once done, and done well, he was not the man to hamper himself with too refined a delicacy when it was a question of drawing his fair profit.—Here is an illustration that comes to me by oral tradition: on days when one of his operas was being produced, the composer, wearing a cloak that half concealed his face, would stop in front of the theatre posters, making the gestures of a man who is absolutely delighted at what he reads. When bystanders had begun to collect, he would exclaim, "Aha! They're playing Grétry's Epreuve villageoise to night, I must be off to book my seat,"—and then he would go and repeat the scene at another posting station, as they were called in those days. It was innocent enough. It was in just the same innocent spirit that our hero did all that was necessary, and more, to make up for the compromising effect in the eyes of the revolutionaries of the favours with which the "Tyranny" had rewarded his talents. He who, being extremely appreciative of elegance and grace in society, had more than most men worshipped the Court, who had received delightful treatment at its hands, who had given dainty and expert models of flattery in his dedications to the Comte d'Artois, the Duchess of Polignac, and the Duke of Choiseul,

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