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When it came to the mug's turn to be made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck's heart; but the brothers only laughed at him, tossed the mug into the melting-pot, and staggered out to the ale-house: leaving him, as usual, to pour the gold into bars, when it was all ready. When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend in the melting-pot.
In the midst of this ineffable concert of impossible voices and instruments, I tried to imagine the voice of Guadagni, the soprano for whom Gluck had written Che faru senza Euridice, and the fiddle of Tartini, that Tartini with whom the devil had once come and made music.
The Prince hesitated; then his face relaxed as at some pleasant thought. "No, Glück," he said, "I will dine downstairs. Get my bath ready." Pelletan's Skeleton As he left the dining-room that evening, Rushford crooked an imperious finger at Monsieur Pelletan. "I want a word with you," he said in his ear. "In private, monsieur?" asked the little Frenchman, with some trepidation.
There is a fine example of this excellent system in Lully's famous aria from Medusa to prove what strength results from a close relation between the accent of the verse and the music. Gluck was one of the most fervent disciples of this system, but Orphée, as we know, was derived from Orfeo.
"Soon also he was bound in most intimate affection to the elder daughter, Maria Anne. She reciprocated the feelings, and the mother gave her consent to the betrothal. Gluck dared to deem the year 1749, in which this change took place, the happiest of his life; but it also turned out to be his saddest, for the father refused his consent.
My actresses are very ugly, and Armida and her confidential lady ought to be very handsome: "However great the success of the opera of Armida, and certainly it was one of the best productions ever exhibited on the French stage, no one had a better opinion of its composition than Gluck himself. He was quite mad about it.
So they melted all their gold without making money enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to one large drinking mug, which an uncle of his had given to little Gluck, and which he was very fond of and would not have parted with for the world, though he never drank anything out of it but milk and water. The mug was a very odd mug to look at.
"But, sir, I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but really, sir, you're putting the fire out." "It'll take longer to do the mutton, then," replied his visitor drily. Gluck was very much puzzled by the behaviour of his guest; it was such a strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string meditatively for another five minutes.
Indeed, it was in Berlin that the extraordinary respect entertained for such a commemoration of Gluck had its origin. I was told that Meyerbeer went to Rellstab with the score of Armida in order to obtain hints as to its correct interpretation.
"Hear how he defames himself!" laughed Marianne, "as if it were so easy to desecrate Gluck's masterpiece." "It is precisely because it is my masterpiece that it is easy to travesty," returned Gluck, earnestly. "The lines which distinguish the hand of a Raphael from that of a lesser genius are so delicate as to be almost imperceptible.
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