But, alas! it was no cheerful music which the fingers of the queen
drew from the keys; it was only the notes of pain, only cries of
grief; and yet they recalled the happy by-gone times--those golden,
blessed days, when the Queen of France was the friend of the arts,
and when she received her early teacher, the great maestro and
chevalier, Gluck, in Versailles; when she took sides for him against
the Italian maestro Lully, and when all Paris divided into two
parties, the Gluckists and Lullyists, waging a bloodless war against
each other. Happy Paris! At that time the interests of art alone
busied all spirits, and the battle of opinions was conducted only
with the pen. Gluck owed it to the mighty influence of the queen
that his opera "Alcestes" was brought upon the stage; but at its
first representation the Lullyists gained the victory, and condemned
it. In despair, Gluck left the opera-house, driven by hisses into
the dark street. A friend followed him and detained him, as he was
hurrying away, and spoke in the gentlest tones. But Gluck
interrupted him with wild violence: "Oh, my friend!" cried he,
falling on the neck of him who was expressing his kindly sympathy,
"'Alcestes' has fallen!" But his friend pressed his hand, and said,
"Fallen? Yes, 'Alcestes' has fallen! It has fallen from heaven!"
The queen thought of this as she sat before the spinet--thought how
moved Gluck was when he related this answer of his friend, and that
he, who had been so kind, was the Duke d'Adhemar.
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