“My relations with Mendelssohn in Rome had been rather curious. At our first meeting I had expressed a great dislike to the first allegro in my Sardanapalus.
“‘Do you really dislike it?’ he said, eagerly. ‘I am so glad. I was afraid you were pleased with it, and I think it simply horrid.’
“Then we nearly quarrelled next day because I spoke enthusiastically of Gluck. He said disdainfully:
“‘Do you like Gluck?’ as much as to say, ‘How can a music-maker like you appreciate the majesty of Gluck?’
“I took my revenge a few days after by putting on Montfort’s piano a manuscript copy of an air from Telemaco without the author’s name to it. Mendelssohn came, picked it up thinking it was a bit of Italian opera, and began parodying it. I stopped him in assumed astonishment, saying:
“‘Hallo, don’t you like Gluck?’”
“‘Gluck?’”
“‘Why yes, my dear fellow. That is Gluck, not Bellini as you seem to think. You see I know him better than you do, and am more of your own opinion than you are yourself.’”
“One day, speaking of the uses of the metronome, he broke in—
“‘What’s the good of one? A musician who can’t guess the time of a piece of music at sight is a duffer.’”