. Achilles and his
Thessalian followers rush in to save Iphigenia, and for a time the
contest rages fiercely, but eighteenth-century convention steps in.
Calchas stops the combat, saying that the gods are at length appeased;
Iphigenia is restored to Achilles, and the opera ends with general
rejoicings.

'Iphigenie en Aulide' gave Gluck a finer opportunity than he had yet
had. The canvas is broader than in 'Alceste' or 'Orfeo,' and the
emotions are more varied. The human interest, too, is more evenly
sustained, and the supernatural element, which played so important a
part in the two earlier works, is almost entirely absent. Nevertheless,
fine as much of the music is, the restraint which Gluck exercised over
himself is too plainly perceptible, and the result is that many of the
scenes are stiff and frigid. There is scarcely a trace of the delightful
lyricism which rushes through 'Paride ed Elena' like a flood of
resistless delight. Gluck had set his ideal of perfect declamatory truth
firmly before him, and he resisted every temptation to swerve into the
paths of mere musical beauty. He had not yet learnt how to combine the
two styles. He had not yet grasped the fact that in the noblest music
truth and beauty are one and the same thing.

In 'Armide,' produced in 1777, he made another step forward. The
libretto was the same as that used by Lulli nearly a hundred years
before. The legend, already immortalised by Tasso, was strangely
different from the classical stories which had hitherto inspired his
greatest works. The opening scene strikes the note of romanticism which
echoes through the whole opera. Armida, a princess deeply versed in
magic arts, laments that one knight, and one only, in the army of the
Crusaders has proved blind to her charms. All the rest are at her feet,
but Rinaldo alone is obdurate. She has had a boding dream, moreover, in
which Rinaldo has vanquished her, and all the consolations of her
maidens cannot restore her peace of mind. Hidraot, her uncle, entreats
her to choose a husband, but she declares that she will bestow her hand
upon no one but the conqueror of Rinaldo. While the chorus is
celebrating her charms, Arontes, a Paynim warrior, enters bleeding and
wounded, and tells how the prowess of a single knight has robbed him of
his captives. Armida at once recognises the hand of the recalcitrant
Rinaldo, and the act ends with her vows of vengeance against the
invincible hero.

The second act sh