to great poverty, the composer who had been the favorite of the rich and
great for so many years knew often the actual pangs of hunger, and eked
out his subsistence by writing conventual psalms, as payment for the
broken food doled out by the monks.

At last he was released, and the tenor, David, sent him funds to pay his
journey to Paris. Napoleon, the first consul, received him cordially in
the Luxembourg palace.

"Sit down," said he to Piccini, who remained standing, "a man of your
greatness stands in no one's presence." His reception in Paris was,
in fact, an ovation. The manager of the opera gave him a pension of
twenty-four hundred francs, a government pension was also accorded, and
he was appointed sixth inspector at the Conservatory. But the benefits
of this pale gleam of wintry sunshine did not long remain. He died at
Passy in the year 1800, and was followed to the grave by a great throng
of those who loved his beautiful music and admired his gentle life.

In the present day Gluck appears to have vanquished Piccini, because
occasionally an opera of the former is performed, while Piccini's works
are only known to the musical antiquarian. But even the marble temples
of Gluck are moss-grown and neglected, and that great man is known to
the present day rather as one whose influence profoundly colored and
changed the philosophy of opera, than through any immediate acquaintance
with his productions. The connoisseurs of the eighteenth century found
Piccini's melodies charming, but the works that endure as masterpieces
are not those which contain the greatest number of beauties, but those
of which the form is the most perfect. Gluck had larger conceptions
and more powerful genius than his Italian rival, but the latter's
sweet spring of melody gave him the highest place which had so far been