United States or Panama ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Where are your machines?" "There," said Gluck, pointing. "That hand-press!" cried Raphael, astonished. "Do you mean to say you print them all with your own hand?" "Why not?" said the dauntless Gluck. "I shall wrap them up for the post, too." And he shut himself up with the last of the "copy."
This behavior so provoked the Russian general that he gave orders for the town to be destroyed and all its inhabitants to be carried off. Among the prisoners was a girl, Catharine by name, a native of Livonia, who had been left an orphan at the age of three years, and had been brought up as a servant in the family of M. Gluck, the minister of the place.
In Calzabigi Gluck had met an author who fully appreciated his ideas, and had the talent of writing a libretto in accordance with them. This coadjutor wrote all the librettos that belonged to Gluck's greatest period.
"Oh, dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really been so cruel?" "Cruel!" said the dwarf; "they poured unholy water into my stream: do you suppose I'm going to allow that?" "Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir your Majesty, I mean they got the water out of the church font."
"Glück!" he shouted. That faithful servitor appeared on the instant, his face alight with anticipation. "But if there should be a plot!" protested Tellier, hesitating, even yet, on the threshold. "If there is a plot," said the Prince, sternly, "someone shall suffer for it, depend upon that! But against gentlemen, the proof must be conclusive.
Only a short time before he had come away perfectly scandalized from a performance of an opera of Gluck's: the ingenious Parisians had taken it into their heads to deck the old fellow up, and cover him with ribbons, and pad out his rhythms, and bedizen his music with, impressionistic settings, and charming little dancing girls, forward and wanton.... Poor Gluck!
And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never driven from his door, so that his barns became full of corn and his house of treasure. And for him the river had, according to the dwarf's promise, become a river of gold.
And the dwarf shook them into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. "Cast these into the river," he said, "and descend on the other side of the mountains into the Treasure Valley. And so good speed." As he spoke the figure of the dwarf became indistinct.
He looked round the room, and under the table, and a great many times behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat down again at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't help thinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were really all gold. "Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, louder than before. "Bless me!" said Gluck again, "what is that?"
Mr. George Frideric Handel is by far the most superb personage one meets in the history of music. He alone of all the musicians lived his life straight through in the grand manner. Spohr had dignity; Gluck insisted upon respect being shown a man of his talent; Spontini was sufficiently self-assertive; Beethoven treated his noble patrons as so many handfuls of dirt.