Marie Antoinette, whom Mme. du Barry and her clique looked on as Piccini’s enemy, astonished both cabals by appointing Piccini her singing-master, an unprofitable honor, for he received no pay, and was obliged to give costly copies of his compositions to the royal family.  He might have quoted from the Latin poet in regard to this favor from Marie Antoinette, whose faction in music, among other names, was known as the Greek party, “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.” *

     * I fear the Greeks, though offering gifts.

Beaumarchais, the brilliant author of “Figaro,” had found the same inconvenience when acting as court teacher to the daughters of Louis XV.  The French kings were parsimonious except when lavishing money on their vices.

The action of the dauphiness, however, paved the way for a reconciliation between Piccini and Gluck.  Berton, the manager of the opera, gave a luxurious banquet, and the musicians, side by side, pledged each other in libations of champagne.  Gluck got confidential in his cups.  “These French,” he said, “are good enough people, but they make me laugh.  They want us to write songs for them, and they can’t sing.”  In fact the quarrel was not between the musicians but their adherents.  In his own heart Piccini knew his inferiority to Gluck.

De Vismes, Berton’s successor, proposed that both should write operas on the same subject, “Iphigenia in Tauris,” and gave him a libretto.  “The French public will have for the first time,” he said, “the pleasure of hearing two operas on the same theme, with the same incidents, the same characters, but composed by two great masters of totally different schools.”

“But,” objected the alarmed Italian, “if Gluck’s opera is played first, the public will be so delighted that they will not listen to mine.”

“To avoid that catastrophe,” said the director, “we will play yours first.”

“But Gluck will not permit it.”

“I give you my word of honor,” said De Vismes, “that your opera shall be put in rehearsal and brought out as soon as it is finished.”

Before Piccini had finished his opera, he heard that his rival was back from Germany with his “Iphigenia” completed, and that it was in rehearsal.  The director excused himself on the plea of its being a royal command.  Gluck’s work was his masterpiece, and produced an unparalleled sensation among the Parisians.  Even his enemies were silenced, and La Harpe said it was the chef d’oeuvre of the world.  Piccini’s work, when produced, was admired, but it stood no chance with the profound, serious, and wonderfully dramatic composition of his rival.

On the night of the first performance Mile.  Laguerre, to whom Piccini had trusted the role of Iphigenia, could not stand straight from intoxication.  “This is not ‘Iphigenia in Tauris,’” said the witty Sophie Arnould, “but ‘Iphigenia in champagne.’” She compensated afterward though by singing the part with exquisite effect.