skillful painter would distribute on his
canvas the colors, lights, and shadows of his picture. When all this
was done, he opened his harpsichord, which he had been using as his
writing-table; and then I heard an air, a duet, a chorus, complete in
all its parts, with a truth of expression, an intelligence, a unity
of design, a magic in the harmony, which delighted both my ear and my
feelings."

Piccini's arrival in Paris had been kept a close secret while he was
working on the new opera, but Abbe du Rollet ferreted it out, and
acquainted Gluck, which piece of news the great German took with
philosophical disdain. Indeed, he attended the rehearsal of "Roland;"
and when his rival, in despair over his ignorance of French and the
stupidity of the orchestra, threw down the baton in despair, Gluck took
it up, and by his magnetic authority brought order out of chaos
and restored tranquillity, a help as much, probably, the fruit of
condescension and contempt as of generosity.

Still Gluck was not easy in mind over this intrigue of his enemies, and
wrote a bitter letter, which was made public, and aggravated the war
of public feeling. Epigrams and accusations flew back and forth like
hailstones.*

* See article on Gluck in "Great German Composers."

"Do you know that the Chevalier (Gluck's title) has an Armida and
Orlando in his portfolio?" said Abbe Arnaud to a Piccinist.

"But Piccini is also at work on an Orlando," was the retort.

"So much the better," returned the abbe, "for then we shall have an
Orlando and also an Orlandino," was the keen answer.

The public attention was stimulated by the war of pamphlets, lampoons,
and newspaper articles. Many of the great _literati_ were Piccinists,
among them Marmontel, La Harpe, D'Alembert, etc. Suard du Rollet and
Jean Jacques Rousseau fought in the opposite ranks. Although the nation
was trembling on the verge of revolution, and the French had just lost
their hold on the East Indies; though Mirabeau was thundering in the
tribune, and Jacobin clubs were commencing their baleful work, soon to
drench Paris in blood, all factions and discords were forgotten.
The question was no longer, "Is he a Jansenist, a Molinist, an
Encyclopaedist, a philosopher, a free-thinker?" One question only was
thought of: "Is he a Gluckist or Piccinist?" and on the answer often
depended the peace of families and the cement of long-established
friendships.

Piccini's opera was a brilliant suc