Little Nicolas was in a state of great trepidation, for he saw plainly that the professor was laughing at him. It was impossible to run away, or he would doubtless have made his escape. Leo advanced towards him, handed him the score, and with imperturbable gravity, requested him to take his place at the desk in front of the orchestra. Nicolas, with the courage of despair, took up his position, and gave the signal to the orchestra which the merciless professor had placed under his command.

After his first emotion had pa.s.sed away, Nicolas continued to beat time, fancying that, after all, what he had composed, though doubtless bad, was, perhaps, not ridiculous. The ma.s.s was executed from beginning to end. As he approached the finale, all the young musician's fears returned. He looked at the professor, and saw that he did not seem to be in the slightest degree impressed by the performance. What _did_ he, what _could_ he think of such a production?

"I pardon you this time," said the terrible _maestro_, when the last chord had been struck; "but if ever you do such a thing again I will punish you in such a manner that you will remember it as long as you live. Instead of studying the principles of your art, you give yourself up to all the wildness of your imagination, and when you have tutored your ill-regulated ideas into something like shape, you produce what you call a ma.s.s, and think, no doubt, that you have composed a masterpiece."

Nicolas burst into tears, and then began to tell Leo how he had been annoyed by the dry and pedantic instruction of the sub-professor. Leo, who, with all his coldness of manner, had a heart, clasped the boy in his arms, told him not to be disheartened, but to persevere, for that he had real talent; and finally promised that from that moment he himself would superintend his studies.

[Sidenote: PICCINNI AND DURANTE.]

Leo died, and was succeeded by Durante, who used to say of young Piccinni, "The others are my pupils, but this one is my son." Twelve years after his entrance into the Conservatory the most promising of its _alumni_ left it and set about the composition of an opera. As Piccinni was introduced by Prince Vintimille, the director of the theatre then in vogue was unable to refuse him a hearing; but he represented to His Highness the certainty of the young composer's work turning out a failure. Piccinni's patron was not wanting in generosity.

"How much can you lose by his opera," he said to the manager, "supposing it should be a complete _fiasco_?"

The manager named a sum equivalent to three hundred and twenty pounds.

"There is the money, then," said the prince, handing him at the same time a purse. "If the _Donne Dispetose_ (that was the name of Piccinni's opera) should prove a failure, you may keep the money, otherwise you can return it to me."

Logroscino was the favorite Italian composer of that day, and great was the excitement when it was heard that the next new opera to be produced was not of his writing. Evidently, his friends had only one course open to them. They decided to hiss Logroscino's rival.

But the Florentine public had reckoned without Piccinni's genius. They could not hiss a man whose music delighted them, and Piccinni's _Donne Dispetose_ threw them into ecstacies. Those who had come to hoot remained to applaud. Piccinni's reputation had commenced, and it went on increasing until at last his was the most popular name in all musical Italy.

Five years afterwards, Piccinni (who in the meanwhile had produced two other operas) gave his celebrated _Cecchina_, otherwise _La Buona Figliuola_, at Rome. The success of this work, of which the libretto is founded on the story of _Pamela_, was almost unprecedented. It was played everywhere in Italy, even at the marionette theatres; and still there was not sufficient room for the public, who were all dying to see it. This little opera filled every playhouse in the Italian peninsula, and it had taken Piccinni ten days to write! The celebrated Tonelli, who, being an Italian, had naturally heard of its success, happened to pa.s.s through Rome when it was being played there. He was not by any means persuaded that the music was good because the public applauded it; but after hearing the melodious opera from beginning to end, he turned to his friends and said, in a tone of sincere conviction, "This Piccinni is a true inventor!"

Of course the _Cecchina_ was heard of in France. Indeed, it was the great reputation achieved by that opera which first rendered the Parisians anxious to hear Piccinni, and which inspired Madame Du Barry with the hope that in the Neapolitan composer she might find a successful rival to the great German musician patronised by Marie Antoinette.

[Sidenote: GLUCK AND PICCINNI.]

Piccinni, after accepting the invitation to dispute the prize of popularity in Paris with Gluck, resolved to commence a new opera forthwith, and had no sooner reached the French capital than he asked one of the most distinguished authors of the day to furnish him with a _libretto_. Marmontel, to whom the request was made, gave him his _Roland_, which was the Roland of Quinault cut down from five acts to three. Unfortunately, Piccinni did not understand a word of French.

Marmontel was therefore obliged to write beneath each French word its Italian equivalent, which caused it to be said that he was not only Piccinni's poet, but also his dictionary.

Gluck was in Germany when Piccinni arrived, and on hearing of the manuvres of Madame du Barry and the Marquis Caraccioli to supplant him in the favour of the Parisian public, he fell into a violent pa.s.sion, and wrote a furious letter on the subject, which was made public. Above all, he was enraged at the Academy having accepted from his adversary an opera on the subject of Roland, for he had agreed to compose an _Orlando_ for them himself.

"Do you know that the Chevalier is coming back to us with an _Armida_ and an _Orlando_ in his portfolio?" said the Abbe Arnaud, one of Gluck's most fervent admirers.

"But Piccinni is also at work at an _Orlando_?" replied one of the Piccinnists.

"So much the better," returned the Abbe, "for then we shall have an _Orlando_ and also an _Orlandino_."

Marmontel heard of this _mot_, which caused him to address some unpleasant observations to the Abbe the first time he met him in society.

But the Abbe was not to be silenced. One night, when Gluck's _Alceste_ was being played, he happened to occupy the next seat to Marmontel.

_Alceste_ played by Mademoiselle Lesueur, has, at the end of the second act, to exclaim--

"_Il me dechire le cur._"

"_Ah, Mademoiselle_," said the Academician quite aloud, "_vous me dechirez les oreilles._"

"What a fortunate thing for you, Sir," said the Abbe, "if you could get new ones."

Of course the two armies had their generals. Among those of the Piccinnists were some of the greatest literary men of the day--Marmontel, La Harpe, D'Alembert, &c. The only writers on Gluck's side were Suard, and the Abbe Arnaud, for Rousseau, much as he admired Gluck, cannot be reckoned among his partisans. Suard, who wrote under a pseudonym, generally contrived to raise the laugh against his adversaries. The Abbe Arnaud, as we have seen, used to defend his composer in society, and const.i.tuted himself his champion wherever there appeared to be the least necessity, or even opportunity, of doing so.

Volumes upon volumes were written on each side; but of course no one was converted.

The Gluckists persisted in saying that Piccinni would never be able to compose anything better than concert music.

The Piccinnists, on the other hand, denied that Gluck had the gift of melody, though they readily admitted that he had this advantage over his adversary--he made a great deal more noise.

[Sidenote: GLUCK AND PICCINNI.]

In the meanwhile the rehearsals of Piccinni's _Orlando_, or _Orlandino_, as the Abbe Arnaud called it, were not going on favourably.

The orchestra, which had been subdued by the energetic Gluck, rebelled against Piccinni, who was quite in despair at the vast inferiority of the French to the Italian musicians.

"Everything goes wrong," he said to Marmontel; "there is nothing to be done with them."

Marmontel was then obliged to interfere himself. Profiting by Piccinni's forbearance, directors, singers, and musicians were in the habit of treating him with the coolest indifference. Once, when Marmontel went to rehearsal, he found that none of the princ.i.p.al singers were present, and that the opera was to be rehea.r.s.ed with "doubles." The author of the _libretto_ was furious, and said he would never suffer the work of the greatest musician in Italy to be left to the execution of "doubles."

Upon this, Mademoiselle Bourgeois had the audacity to tell the Academician that, after all, he was but the double of Quinault, whose _Roland_ (as we have seen) he had abridged. One of the chorus singers, too, explained, that for his part he was not double at all, and that it was a fortunate thing for M. Marmontel's shoulders that such was the case.

At last, when all seemed ready, and the day had been fixed for the first representation, up came Vestris, the G.o.d of dancing, with a request for some _ballet_ music. It was for the thin but fascinating Madeleine Guimard, who was not in the habit of being refused. Piccinni, without delay, set about the music of her _pas_, and produced a gavot, which was considered one of the most charming things in the Opera.

When Piccinni started for the theatre, the night of the first representation, he took leave of his family as if he had been going to execution. His wife and son wept abundantly, and all his friends were in a state of despair.

"Come, my children," said Piccinni, at last; "this is unreasonable.

Remember that we are not among savages. We are living with the politest and kindest nation in Europe. If they do not like me as a musician, they will, at all events, respect me as a man and a stranger."

Piccinni's success was complete. It was impossible for the Gluckists to deny it. Accordingly they said that they had never disputed Piccinni's grace, nor his gift of melody, though his talent was spoiled by a certain softness and effeminacy, which was observable in all his productions.

Marie Antoinette, whom Madame du Barry and her clique had looked upon as the natural enemy of Piccinni, because she was the avowed patroness of Gluck, astonished both the cabals by sending for the Italian composer and appointing him her singing-master. This was, doubtless, a great honour for Piccinni, though a very unprofitable one; for he was not only not paid for his lessons, but incurred considerable expense in going to and from the palace, to say nothing of the costly binding of the operas and other music, which he presented to the royal circle.

[Sidenote: PICCINNI'S SUCCESS.]

Beaumarchais had found precisely the same disadvantages attaching to the post of Court music-master, when, in his youth, he gave lessons to the daughters of Louis XV.

When Berton a.s.sumed the management of the Opera, he determined to make the rival masters friends, and invited them to a magnificent supper, where they were placed side by side. Gluck drank like a man and a German, and before the supper was finished, was on thoroughly confidential terms with his neighbour.

"The French are very good people," said he to Piccinni, "but they make me laugh. They want us to write songs for them, and they can't sing."

The reconciliation appeared to be quite sincere; but the fact was, the quarrel was not between two men, but between two parties. When the direction of the Opera pa.s.sed from the hands of Berton into those of Devismes, a project of the latter, for making Piccinni and Gluck compose an opera, at the same time, on the same subject, brought their respective admirers once more into open collision. "Here," said Devismes to Piccinni, "is a libretto on the story of Iphigenia in Tauris. M.

Gluck will treat the same subject; and the French public will then, for the first time, have the pleasure of hearing two operas founded upon the same incidents, and introducing the same characters, but composed by two masters of entirely different schools."

"But," objected Piccinni, "if Gluck's opera is played first, the public will think so much of it that they will not listen to mine."

"To avoid that inconvenience," replied the director, "we will play yours first."

"But Gluck will not permit it."

"I give you my word of honour," said Devismes, "that your opera shall be put into rehearsal and brought out as soon as it is finished, and before Gluck's."

Piccinni went home, and at once set to work.

He had just finished his two first acts when he heard that Gluck had come back from Germany with his _Iphigenia in Tauris_ completed.

However, he had received the director's promise that his Iphigenia should be produced first, and, relying upon Devismes's word of honour, Piccinni merely resolved to finish his opera as quickly as possible, so that the management might not be inconvenienced by having to wait for it, now that Gluck's work, which was to come second, was ready for production.