The latter went to the opposite extreme. “One sees the actresses, almost in convulsions, violently tear the yelps out of their lungs, their fists clenched against their chest, the head thrown back, the face inflamed, the veins swollen, the stomach heaving; one does not know which is the more disagreeably affected, the eye or the ear; their exertion gives as much pain to those who see them as their singing does to those who hear them.”[43] The orchestra, which in winter was in the habit of performing in gloves, is compared by Mercier, the author of _Le Tableau de Paris_, to “an old coach drawn by consumptive horses and led by one deaf from his birth,” and besides being careless and indifferent, was continually at variance with the singers on the question whether the latter should follow the musicians or the musicians follow them. Grétry relates the following conversation, which took place between Sophie Arnould and Francœur, the conductor of the orchestra, during a rehearsal of his own opera of _Céphale et Procris_, in 1773: “What is the meaning of this, Monsieur? The orchestra seems in a state of rebellion?” “What do you mean by rebellion, Mademoiselle? We are all here for the service of the King, and we serve him zealously.” “I should like to serve him also, but your orchestra puts me out and spoils my singing.” “Nevertheless, Mademoiselle, we play in time.” “In time! _Quelle bête est-ce là?_ Follow me, Monsieur, and understand that your accompaniment is the very humble servant of the actress who is reciting!” As the Goncourts point out, under the apparent insolence of her claim, Sophie was here asserting the rights of the dramatic vocalist before the musical revolution, of which Gluck was the pioneer, when opera-singers were regarded merely as men and women reciting musical tragedy with intonations indicated by a musician. Until then they had enjoyed the most complete independence as to the manner of presenting their phrases. Until then they had been at liberty to hurry or slacken the time, to pause on or shorten any particular note, according to the inspiration of the moment, or even as they felt more or less fatigued, the orchestra following as best it could. “‘_Quelle bête est-ce là?_’ Sophie had but little doubt when she uttered these words that _cette bête_ was on the eve of reducing her talent and reputation to nothing.”[44] The pretension, however, was one which a composer, like Gluck, “who took the trouble to note not only the inflections of the voice, but also the long notes and the short ones, the accent and the time,” could not for one moment tolerate; and his insistence on its abandonment was the cause of endless wrangling at rehearsals, where the principal vocalists roundly declared that, if he refused them the liberty which had so long been theirs, their talent would become superfluous and they would be reduced to the level of mere chorus-singers.