Lulli was so much in love with the opera, when
completed, that he had it performed over and over again for his own
pleasure without any other auditor. When "Atys" was performed first in
1676, the eager throng began to pour in the theatre at ten o'clock in
the morning, and by noon the building was filled. The King and the Count
were charmed with the work in spite of the bitter dislike of Boileau,
the Aristarchus of his age. "Put me in a place where I shall not be able
to hear the words," said the latter to the box-keeper; "I like Lulli's
music very much, but have a sovereign contempt for Quinault's words."
Lulli obliged the poet to write "Armide" five times over, and the
felicity of his treatment is proved by the fact that Gluck afterward set
the same poem to the music which is still occasionally sung in Germany.

Lulli in the course of his musical career became so great a favorite
with the King that the originally obscure kitchen-boy was ennobled. He
was made one of the King's secretaries in spite of the loud murmurs of
this pampered fraternity against receiving into their body a player
and a buffoon. The musician's wit and affability, however, finally
dissipated these prejudices, especially as he was wealthy and of
irreproachable character.

The King having had a severe illness in 1686, Lulli composed a "Te Deum"
in honor of his recovery. When this was given, the musician, in beating
time with great ardor, struck his toe with his baton. This brought on a
mortification, and there was great grief when it was announced that he
could not recover. The Princes de Vendome lodged four thousand pistoles
in the hands of a banker, to be paid to any physician who would cure
him. Shortly before his death his confessor severely reproached him for
the licentiousness of his operas, and refused to give him absolution
unless he consented to burn the score of "Achille et Polyxene," which
was ready for the stage. The manuscript was put into the flames, and
the priest made the musician's peace with God. One of the young princes
visited him a few days after, when he seemed a little better.

"What, Baptiste," the former said, "have you burned your opera? You were
a fool for giving such credit to a gloomy confessor and burning good
music."

"Hush, hush!" whispered Lulli with a satirical smile on his lip. "I
cheated the good father. I only burned a copy."

He died singing the words, "Il faut mourir, pecheur, il faut mourir" to
one of his