man.

Cherubini passed through Paris in 1784, while the Gluck-Piccini
excitement was yet warm, and visited London as composer for the Royal
Italian Opera. Here he became a constant visitor in courtly circles, and
the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Queensbury, and other noble amateurs,
conceived the warmest admiration for his character and abilities. For
some reason, however, his operas written for England failed, and
he quitted England in 1786, intending to return to Italy. But the
fascinations of Paris held him, as they have done so many others,
noticeably so among the great musicians; and what was designed as a
flying visit became a life-long residence, with the exception of brief
interruptions in Germany and Italy, whither he went to fill professional
engagements.

Cherubini took up his residence with his friend Viotti, who introduced
him to the Queen, Marie Antoinette, and the highest society of the
capital, then as now the art-center of the world. He became an intimate
of the brilliant salons of Mme. de Polignac, Mme. d'Etioles, Mme. de
Richelieu, and of the various bright assemblies where the wit, rank, and
beauty of Paris gathered in the days just prior to the Revolution. The
poet Marmontel became his intimate friend, and gave him the opera story
of "Demophon" to set to music. It was at this period that Cherubini
became acquainted with the works of Haydn, and learned from him how to
unite depth with lightness, grace with power, jest with earnestness, and
toying with dignity.

A short visit to Italy for the carnival of 1788 resulted in the
production of the opera of "Ifigenia in Aulide" at La Scala, Milan.
The success was great, and this work, the last written for his native
country, was given also at Florence and Parma with no less delight and
approbation on the part of the public. Had Cherubini died at this time,
he would have left nothing but an obscure name for Fetis's immense
dictionary. Unlike Mozart and Schubert, who at the same age had reached
their highest development, this robust and massive genius ripened
slowly. With him as with Gluck, with whom he had so many affinities,
a short life would have been fatal to renown. His last opera showed a
turning point in his development. Halevy, his great disciple, speaks of
this period as follows: "He is already more nervous; there peeps out
I know not exactly how much of force and virility of which the Italian
musicians of his day did not know or did not seek th