sical mentors, and,
in spite of his pretence of being a great connoisseur, he was in reality
their echo. He affected, for example, the most profound contempt for all
modern music, and would not even listen to it. In this respect he
reflected Reber. Reber used to say quietly in his far-away nasal voice,
"You've got to imitate somebody, so the best thing to do is to imitate
the ancients, for they are the best." However, he undertook to prove the
contrary by writing some particularly individual music, when he thought
he was imitating Haydn and Mozart. Some of his works, in their
perfection of line, their regard for details, their purity and their
moderation remind one of Ingres's drawings which express so much in such
a simple way. And Ingres, as well, although he tried to imitate Raphael,
could only be himself. Reber would have been worthy of comparison with
the painter, if he had had the power and productiveness which
distinguish genius.

What about Ingres's violin? Well, I saw this famous violin for the first
time in the Montaubon Museum. Ingres never even spoke to me about it. He
is said to have played it in his youth, but I could never persuade him
to play even the slightest sonata with me. "I used to play," he replied
to my entreaties, "the second violin in a quartet, but that is all."

So I think I must be dreaming when I read, from time to time, that
Ingres was more appreciative of compliments about his violin-playing
than those about his painting. That is merely a legend, but it is
impossible to destroy a legend. As the good La Fontaine said:

"Man is like ice toward truth;
He is like fire to untruth."

I do not know whether Ingres showed talent for the violin in his youth
or not. But I can state positively that in his maturity he showed none.

Gustave Dore was also said to be famous on the violin, and his claims to
consideration were far from inconsiderable. He had acquired a valuable
instrument, on which he used to play Berlioz's _Concertos_ with a really
extraordinary facility and spirit. These superficial works were enough
for his musical powers. The surprising things about his execution was
that he never worked at it. If he could not get a thing at once, he gave
it up for good and all.

He was a frequent attendant at Rossini's salon, and he belonged to the
faction which supported melody and opposed "learned scientific music."
His temperament and mine hardly seem compatible, but friendship, like