belonging to the queen.  The other party filled up the rest of the pit and the theatre; but the heads were mostly assembled under the box of his majesty.  Hence the party names of Coin du Roi, Coin de la Reine,—­[King’s corner,—­Queen’s corner.]—­then in great celebrity.  The dispute, as it became more animated, produced several pamphlets.  The king’s corner aimed at pleasantry; it was laughed at by the ’Petit Prophete’.  It attempted to reason; the ‘Lettre sur la Musique Francoise’ refuted its reasoning.  These two little productions, the former of which was by Grimm, the latter by myself, are the only ones which have outlived the quarrel; all the rest are long since forgotten.

But the Petit Prophete, which, notwithstanding all I could say, was for a long time attributed to me, was considered as a pleasantry, and did not produce the least inconvenience to the author:  whereas the letter on music was taken seriously, and incensed against me the whole nation, which thought itself offended by this attack on its music.  The description of the incredible effect of this pamphlet would be worthy of the pen of Tacitus.  The great quarrel between the parliament and the clergy was then at its height.  The parliament had just been exiled; the fermentation was general; everything announced an approaching insurrection.  The pamphlet appeared:  from that moment every other quarrel was forgotten; the perilous state of French music was the only thing by which the attention of the public was engaged, and the only insurrection was against myself.  This was so general that it has never since been totally calmed.  At court, the bastile or banishment was absolutely determined on, and a ‘lettre de cachet’ would have been issued had not M. de Voyer set forth in the most forcible manner that such a step would be ridiculous.  Were I to say this pamphlet probably prevented a revolution, the reader would imagine I was in a dream.  It is, however, a fact, the truth of which all Paris can attest, it being no more than fifteen years since the date of this singular fact.  Although no attempts were made on my liberty, I suffered numerous insults; and even my life was in danger.  The musicians of the opera orchestra humanely resolved to murder me as I went out of the theatre.  Of this I received information; but the only effect it produced on me was to make me more assiduously attend the opera; and I did not learn, until a considerable time afterwards, that M. Ancelot, officer in the mousquetaires, and who had a friendship for me, had prevented the effect of this conspiracy by giving me an escort, which, unknown to myself, accompanied me until I was out of danger.  The direction of the opera-house had just been given to the hotel de ville.  The first exploit performed by the Prevot des Marchands, was to take from me my freedom of the theatre, and this in the most uncivil manner possible.  Admission was publicly refused me on my presenting myself, so that I was obliged