III.
Marie Antoinette, whom Mdme. du Barry and her clique looked on as Piccini’s enemy, astonished both cabals by appointing Piccini her singing-master—an unprofitable honour, for he received no pay, and was obliged to give costly copies of his compositions to the royal family. He might have quoted from the Latin poet in regard to this favour from Marie Antoinette, whose faction in music, among other names, was known as the Greek party, “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.”[F] Beaumarchais, the brilliant author of “Figaro,” had found the same inconvenience when acting as court teacher to the daughters of Louis XV. The French kings were parsimonious except when lavishing money on their vices.
The action of the dauphiness, however, paved the way for a reconciliation between Piccini and Gluck. Berton, the manager of the opera, gave a luxurious banquet, and the musicians, side by side, pledged each other in libations of champagne. Gluck got confidential in his cups. “These French,” he said, “are good enough people, but they make me laugh. They want us to write songs for them, and they can’t sing.” In fact, the quarrel was not between the musicians but their adherents. In his own heart Piccini knew his inferiority to Gluck.
De Vismes, Berton’s successor, proposed that both should write operas on the same subject, “Iphigenia in Tauris,” and gave him a libretto. “The French public will have for the first time,” he said, “the pleasure of hearing two operas on the same theme, with the same incidents, the same characters, but composed by two great masters of totally different schools.”
“But,” objected the alarmed Italian, “if Gluck’s opera is played first, the public will be so delighted that they will not listen to mine.”
“To avoid that catastrophe,” said the director, “we will play yours first.”
“But Gluck will not permit it.”
“I give you my word of honour,” said De Vismes, “that your opera shall be put in rehearsal and brought out as soon as it is finished.”
Before Piccini had finished his opera, he heard that his rival was back from Germany with his “Iphigenia” completed, and that it was in rehearsal. The director excused himself on the plea of its being a royal command. Gluck’s work was his masterpiece, and produced an unparalleled sensation among the Parisians. Even his enemies were silenced, and La Harpe said it was the chef-d’œuvre of the world. Piccini’s work, when produced, was admired, but it stood no chance with the profound, serious, and wonderfully dramatic composition of his rival.
On the night of the first performance Mdlle. Laguerre, to whom Piccini had trusted the rôle of Iphigenia, could not stand straight from intoxication. “This is not ‘Iphigenia in Tauris,’” said the witty Sophie Arnould, “but ‘Iphigenia in champagne.’” She compensated afterwards, though, by singing the part with exquisite effect.
While the Gluck-Piccini battle was at its height, an amateur who was disgusted with the contest returned to the country and sang the praises of the birds and their gratuitous performances in the following epigram:—
“La n’est point d’art, d’ennui scientifique;
Piccini, Gluck, n’ont point noté les airs.
Nature seule en dicta la musique,
Et Marmontel n’en a pas fait les vers.”
The sentiment of this was probably applauded by the many who were wearied of the bitter recriminations, which degraded the art which they professed to serve.
During the period when Gluck and Piccini were composing for the French opera, its affairs nourished liberally under the sway of De Vismes. Gluck, Piccini, and Rameau wrote serious operas, while Piccini, Sacchini, Anfossi, and Paisiello composed comic operas. The ballet flourished with unsurpassed splendour, and on the whole it may be said that never has the opera presented more magnificence at Paris than during the time France was on the eve of the Reign of Terror. The gay capital was thronged with great singers, the traditions of whose artistic ability compare favourably with those of a more recent period.
The witty and beautiful Sophie Arnould, who had a train of princes at her feet, was the principal exponent of Gluck’s heroines, while Mdlle. Laguerre was the mainstay of the Piccinists. The rival factions made the names of these charming and capricious women their war-cries not less than those of the composers. The public bowed and cringed before these idols of the stage. Gaetan Vestris, the first of the family, known as the “Dieu de la Danse” and who held that there were only three great men in Europe, Frederick the Great of Prussia, Voltaire, and himself, dared to dictate even to Gluck. “Write me the music of a chaconne, Monsieur Gluck,” said the god of dancing.
“A chaconne!” said the enraged composer. “Do you think the Greeks, whose manners we are endeavouring to depict, knew what a chaconne was?”
“Did they not?” replied Vestris, astonished at this news, and in a tone of compassion continued, “then they are much to be pitied.”
Vestris did not obtain his ballet music from the obdurate German; but, when Piccini’s rival “Iphigénie en Tauride” was produced, such beautiful dance measures were furnished by the Italian composer as gave Vestris the opportunity for one of his greatest triumphs.
FOOTNOTE:
[F] I fear the Greeks, though offering gifts.