Chapter XIV: Part 14

From an engraving by F. Schauer of Berlin, after the medallion in relief by Prof. Rietschel.]

Aside from all musical interest, one may regard Schumann's writings as valuable contributions to literature emanating from an author of the finest artistic sense, a master of his language and of the most wonderful expressions for the subtleties of poetic or musical feelings. It would not be right not to mention here his many letters, which so far have been published in several collections and which are as instructive for the musician as enjoyable for the general reader. They help greatly to understand his individuality as man and artist. By his literary writings Schumann has perhaps exercised directly and indirectly as great an influence as by his musical works. Yet it is the latter, by which he will live for ever as one who has given his life-blood to his art and enriched our literature by masterworks of absolute beauty, greatness and originality, and who, even where he erred or made unsuccessful experiments, is worthy of our sincere sympathy because of the honesty of his purpose. Boundless is our gratitude and veneration for him whose genius will continue to reach thousands of new admirers that will honor in him a peer of those who are the corner stones of musical art.

Fac-simile musical manuscript No. 5 of Schumann's Ritornelles, for male chorus, in Canon form.]

_Reproduction of a photograph from life, made in 1891, by C. Höpfner of Halle._]

ROBERT FRANZ

In the study of the history of musical art, nothing can strike our mind more impressively than the observation of its coherency, of the connection between the different phases in the development of each particular field and between its most prominent representatives; but most striking is this impression when we become aware of an influence directly felt through generations. When about a generation ago the conservative Professor Bischoff sarcastically threw the term "music of the future" into the world with reference to Wagner's music dramas, the master accepted it as a watchword, and in his pamphlet "The art work of the future," laid down the hopes and ideals which he strove to realize. Numberless times since then has this phrase been used everywhere, and those who, standing in the midst of the movement, wanted to become clear as to its true meaning, had at least to admit that all great music has ever been "music of the future," whether its value has been recognized by contemporaries or not. But most eminently it has seemed to apply to the great master, Johann Sebastian Bach. Of him, who died more than fourteen decades ago, it could have been said, that only a very remote future would do his works justice, for even to-day they must still be regarded as "music of the future," and the influence which they were destined to exert upon the development of musical art in various fields, is still far from having reached its end. It is inspiring to see how the thorough understanding and appreciation of this genius, and of the wealth, depth and greatness of his style, are progressing in the different countries, and just as inspiring to examine his extraordinary influence upon the more recent epochs of musical history. While some composers tried to follow him in his own fields, as Mendelssohn in the oratorio or Rheinberger in compositions for the organ, others, as Schumann and Brahms in instrumental works, have adopted his wonderful polyphonic and contrapuntal art, showing his influence just in those productions, which otherwise exhibit most strongly their own individuality. Even the revolutionary Wagner held Bach's genius in veneration, and paid a noble tribute to it in his Mastersingers. Indeed, considering these facts, an overwhelming sense of admiration and gratitude must fill our hearts, particularly in thinking of the great master of modern German song to whom this article is devoted.

Not an imitator, but a worthy successor of Bach, in a field, the highest cultivation of which has been preserved to modern time as one of its noblest tasks, is Robert Franz, whose life and works may perhaps awaken a double interest, if viewed in the light of the above introductory remarks. In outward appearance this life was, perhaps, even more quiet and simple than that of Bach. Franz's soul and mind had always turned toward the inner world, just as in his songs he studiously avoided all ostentation and meaningless brilliancy. There is indeed a significant harmony between his life and songs, the latter being the outgrowth of the former, not occasionally written down from a vain ambition to compose, nor as a pastime or fashion, but as the fulfilment of his life's task, to which his genius had committed him.

Robert Franz was born June 28, 1815, in Halle, the old university town in the centre of Germany, the birthplace of Handel. Here Franz has remained all his life. He did not descend from a musical family, but from plain, honest, business people; nor were there any direct early proofs of his musical genius, as only in his fourteenth year he was given an opportunity, on an antique, spinet-like pantaleon (or large dulcimer) to make his first practical experiments, at the same time trying, unaided, with a touching perseverance, to find out the secrets of musical notation. However, he had received his first musical impressions when very young. At two years of age he had been amply impressed by Luther's choral, "A Mighty Fortress is Our Lord," played by trombones from the steeple of a church at the celebration of the third centenary of the Reformation. At home his father was accustomed to sing the old church and folk songs. The effect of these early impressions on his young musical soul was soon obvious, for he says that in school he had an irresistible desire to add a second voice to the melodies which were being practised. His unsolicited assistance was looked upon as a crime by the teacher, who punished him for it repeatedly. It was the mother who first lent a helping hand to the boy's outspoken talent and inclination, and who succeeded in persuading his father to buy the already mentioned pantaleon. Naturally the instruction which young Robert received, first from a relative and then by nearly all the different music teachers of Halle in succession, was not of much value. He achieved more by his own impulses, practising chorals with friends, eagerly studying the organ and using every opportunity to play accompaniments, as for instance, in the choral rehearsals of the famous Franke Asylum. There he became acquainted with the music of Mozart, Haydn, and his great fellow citizen, Handel, and there he was first fired with the spirit of composition. Unadvised and without the least theoretical preparation he yielded to his desire to compose, neglecting even his school duties in favor of this impulse, the results of which, however, he has declared utterly worthless. It was difficult for him, especially in his own home, to brave all depreciation of his talents and to overcome all opposition; only the firm belief in his artistic calling enabled him to fight the battle through victoriously.

Franz was twenty years old, when at last his parents consented to his thorough professional education. The Leipsic Conservatory not having been founded, the music school of the famous theorist and composer, Friedrich Schneider, in Dessau, was at that time held in highest esteem, and there Franz was sent. The rather patriarchal, old fashioned, pedantic spirit which prevailed in this school, could certainly offer to the young aspiring student substantial knowledge, though it could do but little to develop his poetic nature. Yet he learned a great deal there, and laid a most excellent foundation to the eminent theoretical knowledge and mastery in the strict contrapuntal and polyphonic style by which he later won such a high distinction.

Besides this, the ever fresh impulses of his own nature and the inspiring intercourse with congenial fellow students helped to mature his own musical individuality. A peculiar influence is attributed to a certain Reupsch, whom Franz describes as quite extraordinary in improvisations on the organ and in the treatment of chorals. Nothing has ever been published of all the works (consisting of pianoforte sonatas, a mass, etc.) which were composed during these years. Franz felt that his nature would lead him upon an independent path of his own, but his instinct had not yet found this sphere. After two years of study he returned home, only to meet with new opposition and mistrust in his talent. No position was offered him, no compositions appeared in print; and it was then that the sympathy of his faithful mother remained his best comfort. In the circles of cultivated dilettanti he learned that the intrinsic value of a work of art is found in its inner significance, and that its formal value, if it be a really artistic production, should be a matter of course. This is the very idea for which Robert Schumann was then fighting, and which men like Wagner, Liszt and Berlioz have made the principle of their artistic creed. Yet all true art rests on the closest harmony between both elements, where the form is the necessary and most perfect expression of the ideal contents, the two forming a perfect union. What a blessing was it that Franz in this way found rich opportunities to become acquainted with old Italian music, and with the three great German masters, Bach, Schubert and Schumann, whose works have most essentially influenced the moulding of his own musical language.

He gave such close study to their works that his nervous system was overwrought, and becoming his own severest critic he destroyed all his former compositions. Courage and confidence seemed to leave him and for years his production ceased. This did not prevent him from striving to acquire a higher general education, however, and he applied himself especially to the study of philosophy and literature, availing himself of the rich opportunities afforded by the University of his city. At last a short dream of love brought forth the music of his soul, his first songs, which came forth from the depths of his heart. This was in 1843. Schumann, to whom he sent the songs, honored him with a most hearty recognition of his talent, and was helpful in finding a publisher. But Franz's nervous condition and ominous, early developing auricular sufferings obliged him to take an extended trip to Tyrol and Italy. The journey strengthened him so much that after his return he was finally able to devote with enthusiasm his rich talents untrammelled to the cultivation of his new field. Others followed Schumann in their sincere recognition of our composer's talent, among whom were Gade, Mendelssohn, and especially Liszt, who was so often the noble champion for new talents, and who wrote one of his finest pamphlets in praise of Franz's songs. Wagner, who certainly never could be accused of being too liberal in his praise of others, was not to be outdone. In a letter to Uhlig he says he will never forget that Franz was, after Liszt, the first German musician who had done him justice.

Reproduction of an engraving made by A. Weger from a daguerreotype.]

Besides some compositions for the church, and a few part songs, Franz has confined himself to the cultivation of the German "Lied" with a wonderful concentration of all his faculties, reaching the highest perfection, richness, depth, and beauty in this one _genre_, as Chopin did in his field of pianoforte compositions. As regards his practical occupation in Halle, he held several positions, with which he had been entrusted soon after his first success as a composer, being organist at the St. Ulrici church and director of the singing Academy and the symphony concerts, as well as at the University. However, his increasing nervous and auricular maladies obliged him in 1868 to resign all these offices and to live from the limited earnings of his compositions. A generous gift in money started by the always noble minded Liszt, and supported by admirers in Germany, England and America, released him from all further anxieties. Thus the dear master, invalid in body but young in spirit, lived in retirement in his native city, with his wife, Maria Hinrichs, slowly winning the recognition of the musical world. Letters received from him in the summer of 1892 still showed an unusually bright and active mind, so that the announcement of his death, which occurred Oct. 24th in Halle, came as a sad surprise. Many an honor has been conferred upon him, the title of a royal music director, of an honorary doctor of the Halle University, and Bavarian and Prussian orders. Yet greater than all these is the honor of living forever through his works in the hearts of his people, and in the high esteem of all students of music and its history.

The collection of Robert Franz's songs may be well compared to a lovely garden, most carefully adorned with beautiful flowers of every variety, each of which attracts and deserves our special and close attention. Indeed, whoever takes pains, in an earnest and loving mind to review these songs one by one, and to penetrate into their peculiar nature, style and beauty, will be surprised to observe that the composer has allowed not one to be published without having perfected it in every detail. Even the simplest folk-song had to be a true work of art, worthy of his name and genius, before he would send it upon its wanderings through the world. Another significant fact, which also does him great credit, is that each song impresses us most forcibly as being born out of a deep, sympathetic comprehension of the peculiar genius of the poet, and the language, sentiment, and spirit of the poem. There is no conventionality, no mannerism, no following of certain patterns, which so often characterize ancient and modern manufacturers of songs. Every number presents, in closest harmony with the text of the poem, an individual musical organism, bearing the mark of Franz's artistic individuality, but forming with the poem such a perfect union that we do not wish to separate the music from the words, nor are we able to fully enjoy either independent of the other. The music of his songs is not of such a character as to detract from the beauty and interest of the poem. The musical setting is designed mainly to enhance the charm of the poetic gem, and display it to best advantage.

Fac-simile of musical manuscript and letter from Robert Franz.]

There are thousands of songs which please superficial singers and audiences without awakening the least question as to the worth of the poem and its author. This is not true of Franz's songs, however, and never has a song writer succeeded better than he in doing his chosen poets and poems full justice. He did not use them simply to serve his musical purpose, but adapted himself to them in a way which might be called self-abnegation of the highest form. It is this characteristic, together with his use of the old contrapuntal and polyphonic art, that gives Franz's compositions a classic aspect. His aim and task was to find a formally clear, distinct expression for every kind of poetical sentiment, and one hardly errs in saying that Franz has outgrown the romanticist in himself and donned the superior garb of classical art. The musical construction of his songs is firm and perfectly developed, and allows no room for misunderstanding or individual conceptions. His ideas are expressed fully and clearly, and although the general impression produced may continue to move us, it is brought to a complete, satisfactory conclusion by the last note. One feels that here a superior artistic spirit, an eminent musical genius reigns; a genius drawing inspiration from the purest musical source, guided by high literary and æsthetic culture, scorning imitation and cheap, tawdry effects, but in each new song striving for strength, character and perfect harmony with the poet whose work his music honors.

It will readily be understood why the creator of such beautiful works of art should be unwilling to make the piano accompaniment play a subordinate part. However, he does not raise it to the principal position, as does Wagner, in his latest music dramas, but melodically, rhythmically, harmonically, interweaves it with the vocal strain in such a way that each part completes the other, both forming a wonderful unity. In fact, as regards this intimate and organic connection of song and accompaniment, Franz hardly has his equal among the great song composers, notwithstanding many splendid instances of this combining power found in the songs of Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann and Brahms. Quite often Franz's song accompaniments are written in such a manner that each part forms a beautiful song by itself, so that one is almost tempted to sing one of the inner voices; while sometimes the accompaniment is even written strictly in four parts, making it seem like a choral composition. This leads us to the cardinal features of Franz's style, and shows his close relationship to Sebastian Bach and to the already mentioned old hymns and folk songs. August Saran has treated this subject most thoroughly in a very remarkable book culminating in the statement, "Robert Franz's song is in its whole nature and musical structure nothing else but the old German folk-song, enriched and idealized by the peculiar expressiveness of modern music." Those old folk-songs had once reached their highest development on sacred ground in the protestant Choral as it became so wonderfully perfected in Bach's polyphonic and contrapuntal art. We find that Franz has applied this same art and spirit to modern lyric songs, although at the same time he fully recognizes what all the later musical epochs have contributed in the way of greater delicacy or intensity of expression, richer, and freer use of the rhythms, new harmonic modulations, a closer regard for the intelligent phrasing of poetic words, and a richer and far more varied and effective technique of the pianoforte.

As regards his style Franz is thus an absolutely modern composer, else his songs would be mere scholarly experiments, having no inner life. But his melodies are evidently designed for a polyphonic treatment. They need to be supplemented by other parts, not merely by a simple chord accompaniment, although this is also used occasionally. Yet with all these finesses, and the difficulties of such a complicated style, most of the songs have quite a popular character in the noblest meaning of the word. Only a small number are what the Germans term "durchcomponirt," (composed through), a large majority are in the strophe form. Yet the composer understands just how in the most wonderful, scarcely perceptible, and often extremely delicate manner, to do justice to the changing moods of the different strophes. Quite a number of the compositions are true folk-songs, the poems being old German, Suabian, Swiss, Bohemian and Scotch.

Franz's favorites among prominent poets, are Heine, Lenau, Eichendorff, Burns and Osterwald, while secondary are Goethe, Rückert, Geibel, Möricke and Roquette. The subjects treated by him are many and varied; there are many beautiful songs of nature in various deeply affecting, concentrated moods, songs of night and stars, of water and waves, weather and storm, autumn and spring, forest and heath; also songs of love in all the phases which a heart may experience, from the first sweet, chaste dawn, to the exultation of final happiness; the woe of a broken heart, and of parting and death; nor are merry, dancing or humorous songs missing. Yet there are no ballads.

How many remarkable, strong, or delicate features could be singled out of this wealth of lyric music, but how much easier and more directly could this be done with the songs themselves before one! The sharp eye or ear would then be delightfully surprised by many strange and new details. They would meet with unusual keys and modulations, intentional indefinite fluctuations between major and minor keys, rhythmical finesses and curious combinations such as a 7/4 time or the periodical change of the time, impressive declamatory effects, an effective use of syncopations, sequences, inversions, cadences, characteristic figures and ornaments. And this never for purely musical purposes, but for the sake of a better expression of the poetic meaning. Would that these lines might help to induce many readers to study closely the songs of Robert Franz! They would then experience delightful surprises with nearly every song, and their hearts would be filled more and more with music of a new and independent style, each tone of which has life and meaning, and helps to arouse one's sympathy for a new, though limited, world of beauty and ideal contents. But never will the student's surprise and pleasure be greater than when meeting with songs such as are already familiar and dear to him in other famous settings. For none of these need to step aside and shun comparison with their more celebrated rivals. For illustration, his "Restless Love," by Goethe, certainly has not a less passionate melody than Schubert's setting of the same subject, while the brilliant accompaniment of the former is decidedly superior to Schubert's. "When Midnight Dreams" ("Allnächtlich im Traume") is a worthy rival of Schumann's fine song, and much better than Mendelssohn's conventional setting of Heine's poem. It is difficult to decide which deserves the preference, Franz's or Brahms' setting of the beautiful slumber-song "Ruhe Süssliebchen" from Tieck's "Schöne Magelone;" though quite dis-similar, both hold high places among the songs of these two masters. Especially interesting is the comparison of those, the poems of which, mostly written by Heine, have also inspired Schumann to some of his very finest productions. These are the songs which are recommended to all who desire to study the strong individuality and significance of Robert Franz as a composer of songs. In such a rich collection it is impossible to specify the merits of each song; for all appeal equally to our sympathy and attention.

The adequate rendering of Franz's songs lies both with the singer and the accompanist. Most of them demand a well trained voice of a fine musical quality, and often of a wide compass, an unusual degree of general musical education, a clear poetical comprehension of text and music, and a most distinct enunciation and intelligent phrasing. The accompaniment calls for a very clever player, well schooled in Bach's polyphonic style, who has a singing tone and who, in the whole conception and delivery, is in full harmony with the singer. Nearly all of these songs can be well rendered and enjoyed in an English translation, if only the translator be guided in his work by the utmost regard for the melos and rhythm of the poem and its music. Franz's songs are still far too little known, although in the old world, and we are proud to say in the new also, some enthusiastic admirers, singers, musicians and writers have done a great deal for their introduction. They are everywhere respected, but unduly neglected in vocal concerts as well as in our homes, where their influence would be felt still more. May these lines help to win them many true and lasting friends.

There remains still another highly important musical achievement of Robert Franz to be noted,--a series of works through which he has deserved the lasting thanks of all earnest friends of musical art, and which will for all time connect his name with those of our greatest masters of the oratorio, Bach and Handel. Before him Mozart had made a similar attempt with the music of Handel, and Mendelssohn with that of Bach, but neither achieved a complete success. These old masters did not fully write out the accompaniments to their great works in the form which has become the rule with their successors, but rather left them as outlines, a mere figured bass indicating the accompaniment, which the composer either played or personally supervised. The old art of playing from a figured bass has in our time become almost obsolete; besides our ears have through the wonderful development of instrumental music become accustomed to new sounds and orchestral effects, which are now absolutely essential to us. Also, some instruments have since been discarded and others modified. It was an extremely difficult task to complete this accompaniment, which was merely suggested, and arrange it for our modern orchestral instruments, at the same time retaining the spirit and style of the old great masters. It required a thorough historical and theoretical knowledge, a fine sense of the peculiar character of the different instruments and a complete mastery of polyphonic and contrapuntal art, qualities found only in a true musician, who was himself highly gifted as a composer. Scholarly professors might perhaps have performed this feat in a merely correct and antiquarian manner, but only a true musician could inspire these accompaniments with the same life as the old masters would have done had they lived at the present stage of musical art. It will be easily understood that such an undertaking excited the most animated criticism, which several times led Franz to defend his standpoint in very interesting publications. Against such attacks by more or less famous and learned musical writers he was warmly assisted by enthusiastic friends and admirers in Germany, England and America, where Franz had early found many marks of a high appreciation of his genius. However the most gratifying reward for his labors is the fact that his arrangements of the old masterworks are steadily coming into general use. Modern as is his sentiment as a productive musician, he stands nearer to Bach and Handel in style and spirit than any other modern composer. We know of none who could have performed this great task more conscientiously, with a deeper comprehension of the old art and with a more loving devotion than Robert Franz. What he has achieved in this line secures him immortality not less than his songs.

The most important of these arrangements are: Handel's "Messiah," "Jubilate," "l'Allegro il Pensieroso ed il Moderato," and many arias and duets; Bach's "St. Matthew Passion," "Magnificat," "Christmas Oratorio," "Tragic Ode," and many cantatas and arias; Astorga's "Stabat Mater," Durante's "Magnificat," and quite a collection of old German chorals and songs.

Considering, then, all that Franz has done for us, we bow in admiration and thankfulness before a genius, who is one of the noblest representatives of the latest musical epoch, and whose name is one of the few worthy to continue the list of those masters whom we honor as the corner stones of musical art. For it is not the size, but the ideal significance and degree of perfection, which determines the greatness and lasting value of a work of art. Whoever produces works of absolute beauty and perfection, even in a minor field, deserves a place of honor amongst the masters of all times.

_Reproduction of a lithograph portrait made from life by Kriehuber of Vienna. Meyerbeer in his fifty-sixth year._]

GIACOMO MEYERBEER

The great composer known under the name of Meyerbeer, and who occupied one of the most important places in the history of musical art in the nineteenth century, was in reality christened Jacob Liebmann Beer, his Christian name being afterward Italianized into Giacomo. He was born at Berlin, according to some authorities on Sept. 5th, according to others on Sept. 23, 1791. His father, who was a Hebrew, and one of the richest bankers of Prussia, had three other sons, William, Michael and Henry, all of whom were distinguished men, although their notoriety has been eclipsed by the glory of him who is known to the world as Meyerbeer. William Beer, indeed, who succeeded his father as banker, was at the same time a remarkable astronomer. He became the collaborator of Maedler for his scientific works, and published a chart of the moon which won for him an important prize from the Berlin Academy of Sciences; he died March 27, 1850. Michael Beer, who was born in 1800 and died when only thirty-three, acquired considerable renown as a dramatic poet by his various works, _Clytemnestra_, _les Fiancés d'Aragon_, _le Paria_, and especially _Struensée_, his masterpiece, which afterwards received a new lustre in being set to music by his brother the composer. To return to the latter, while he was still quite a child, one of his uncles, named Meyer, who had always had a great affection for him, died, leaving him his whole fortune on condition that he should add to his name that of Meyer, whence resulted the name Meyerbeer, under which the composer has always been known.

From his earliest years, Meyerbeer showed an exceptional bent for music. His father, far from opposing this tendency, rather encouraged him in it, and gave him an excellent piano teacher, Ignace Lauska, who had been a pupil of Clementi. The child made such rapid progress that he was able to appear at a public concert in Berlin, October 14, 1800, at which he made a great success. He appeared again in 1803 and 1804 with the same success, and it was then that the Abbé Vogler, whose disciple he became later on, hearing him improvise with a rare facility, predicted that he would one day be a great musician. Two or three years later, Meyerbeer had occasion to play before Clementi, who was staying for some time in Berlin, on his way back from Saint Petersburg, and the master was so charmed with the lad's talent that he consented to give him lessons during his sojourn in that city.

At this period, and without having given any attention to theoretic study, Meyerbeer already occupied himself with composition. Guided alone by his instinct and his natural taste, he wrote numerous songs and piano pieces, so that his father resolved to give him a master in composition, and fixed his choice on Bernard Anselme Weber, then leader of the orchestra at the Berlin Opera. But this artist, very distinguished in his way, and who could give excellent advice on dramatic style, instrumentation, etc., was not himself sufficiently versed in the science of counterpoint and fugue to be able to guide a pupil in this difficult study. Moreover, he showed himself too easily satisfied with Meyerbeer's efforts. One day when the latter brought him a fugue, he could not conceal his admiration, and, regarding it as a masterpiece, thought he would send it to the celebrated Abbé Vogler, who had been his own teacher, hoping thereby to prove to him that he, Weber, was able to form good pupils. For several weeks they anxiously awaited the Abbé's response, which arrived at length in the form of a bulky package. On opening it, they found that the contents were divided into three parts. The first constituted a sort of practical treatise on the fugue, written by Vogler's own hand, and in which all the rules for this kind of composition were set forth in a precise and succinct manner. The second part, which was called _The Scholar's Fugue_, reproduced that of Meyerbeer, analyzed step by step throughout its development, with remarks which proved super-abundantly that it was far from being good. The third part, entitled _The Master's Fugue_, was that which Vogler had constructed on Meyerbeer's theme, analyzed in all its details and in its _ensemble_, with an explanation of the reasons which justified its general form and all the incidents.

Meyerbeer was greatly impressed by the theories set forth by Vogler. He immediately put himself to work again and wrote a new fugue of eight parts, according to this master's principles, which he sent directly to Vogler at Darmstadt, his place of residence. The latter replied at once, expressing his satisfaction, and the confidence which this new work gave him in his future as an artist, and inviting him to come to Darmstadt; "I will receive you like a son," said he, "and you shall slake your thirst at the very sources of musical knowledge." Meyerbeer, delighted at this kind invitation, easily obtained from his father the necessary permission, and was soon on his way to Darmstadt.

The school of the Abbé Vogler was celebrated at that time throughout Germany, and this master, who had studied in Italy with Vallotti and Martini, was considered one of the first theoreticians of his time. One thing is certain, and that is, that he turned out excellent pupils, of whom some won great renown, and others became more or less famous. Among these were Knecht and Ritter, who themselves became remarkable theoreticians; the composers who were formed by the lessons and counsels of Vogler were Winter, Gänsbacher and the two immortal artists Carl Maria von Weber and Meyerbeer. It was at Vogler's house that these last two met for the first time, and formed a friendship which was broken only by the death of Weber. In after years Weber deplored the Italian tendencies of Meyerbeer, who, in the first days of his career, threw his whole being into the imitation of Rossini's style, but in spite of this divergence of artistic views the affection which these two friends felt for one another was never altered nor disturbed for a single instant.

Indeed, all the pupils who lived at the Abbé Vogler's house entertained pleasant and affectionate relations toward each other, and a touching respect and profound tenderness for their excellent master. One proof of this, among many others, is the fact that after Weber's death a cantata was found among his papers, bearing the following inscription: "Cantata written by Weber for Vogler's birthday, and set to music by Meyerbeer and Gänsbacher." In fact, Weber, who was a very ready verse-maker, had written the words of this cantata, while Meyerbeer had composed the music of the choruses and a trio, and Gänsbacher had been charged with that of the _soli_. It is probable also that the cantata was sung by the pupils of the school.

This house of Vogler's was patriarchal; the life there was very austere, very much occupied, and the time of the pupils was exclusively devoted to severe study and practice of the art. In the morning, after the regular exercises, the master gave his class an oral lesson in counterpoint. Then, giving them for treatment any musical subject, sacred or profane, a psalm, motet, _kyrie_, ode, dramatic scene, he demanded of them a severe composition. In the evening, all being assembled in the presence of the master, the compositions were performed, after which each work was analyzed theoretically, commented on, criticised, estimated, not only by the professor, but again by all the pupils, so that each of them, after having been judged, became in his turn the judge of his own attempts and those of his rivals. It cannot be denied that this was an excellent system of education, and one calculated to foster in the minds of the pupils reflection and the sentiment of criticism. On a Sunday the whole household went to the cathedral, which contained two organs; Vogler played one of them, while each of his pupils, in turn, took his place at the other, after the fashion of a kind of academic tourney, in which each endeavored to develop in a happy and artistic manner the subject improvised and set forth by the master.

It was during his residence at the Abbé Vogler's house that Meyerbeer wrote, for the purpose of forming his hand, a great number of pieces of sacred music, which he always refused to make known to the public. It was at this period also that he composed an oratorio, _Gott und die Natur_, which was his first piece publicly performed. He had been two years at Darmstadt, when Vogler, wishing to give his pupils a rest, and to fortify their minds by the contemplation of the beauties of nature, closed his school and undertook with them an excursion through Germany. It was just before his departure on this expedition that Meyerbeer had obtained a performance of his oratorio, which resulted in the grand duke of Hesse conferring on him the title of composer to the court. This oratorio was brought out at Berlin a short time after, May 8, 1811, in a concert given by Weber at the Royal Theatre, where the solos were sung by Eunike, Grell and Frl. Schmalz.

From large lithograph Memorial published at the time of his death.

This portion commemorates his first appearance in Berlin, where he was praised for his smooth performance of Mozart's Concertos.]

This was the starting point of Meyerbeer's active career. We shall soon see him make his appearance as composer and virtuoso at the same time (for Meyerbeer was an exceptional pianist), then promptly abandon his success as a performer in order to give himself up without reserve to composition, with the theatre for his objective point. He was eager for glory and aimed at a great reputation, feeling himself equal to any effort for reaching his end; it is this which explains the hesitations and evasions of his youth. Desirous of meeting success, withal patient, persevering and gifted with an energy which nothing could baffle, he sought it in all possible ways, but, whatever his critics may say, without ever sacrificing his convictions, and while always preserving for his art, as well as for the public, the most complete, the most absolute respect. His first works performed in Germany, written in a somewhat scholastic form, perhaps a little pedantic, did not succeed according to his desire, because Germany at that time, like Italy herself, was under the spell of Rossini's music. He accordingly betook himself to Italy, and there wrote several operas in which he forced himself to adopt the style and methods of that master. It was this that brought down upon him the reproaches of Weber, irritated to see him, a German, deny the national genius, and submit, like so many others, to the influence of the author of the _Barber of Seville_. But in spite of the criticisms of his friend, Meyerbeer, who had seen his works received with favor in Italy, continued his career in that country, where he trained his hand and prepared the evolution which was to free his genius and direct him to France, there to write his incomparable masterpieces. For Meyerbeer, like Gluck before him, gave to France alone the full measure of his worth; like Gluck, it is to France that he owes his greatest triumphs and the best part of his glory; like Gluck, he lived to see his Italian operas laid aside and well-nigh forgotten, whereas his French operas made the tour of civilized lands, and are still played on all the stages of the world.

From the Carnavalet Museum, Paris.]

It was after his trip with Vogler and his fellow-students that Meyerbeer decidedly entered his career, though not without some fumbling. In 1813 we find him at Munich, where he gave an unsuccessful performance of _Jephtha's Daughter_, an opera in three acts, which had much the flavor and style of an oratorio. Disheartened by the result, he left very soon for Vienna, resolved to make known there his exceptional talent as pianist. In this capacity he achieved triumph after triumph in the capital of Austria; his execution was solid and brilliant, and at the same time full of poetry and charm. He played at these concerts a great number of his own compositions, which have never been published. At the same time he came twice before the Vienna public as dramatic composer, first with a mono-drama for soprano, clarinet obligato and chorus (the clarinetist figured as a personage of the drama) entitled _The Loves of Tevelind_, then with a comic opera in two acts, entitled _Abimelek, or The two Caliphs_, performed at the court theatre. This latter, written in the somewhat heavy style of _Jephtha's Daughter_, found no favor with a public which, at that period, was under the complete influence of Italian music. Meyerbeer was very much affected by this failure, and took his troubles to Salieri, who was then imperial capellmeister at Vienna. Salieri, who had taken a great fancy to him, and who had confidence in his future, consoled him as best he could, lavished encouragement upon him, and counselled him to make a trip into Italy. "There," said he, "you will learn to ripen your talent, to train your hand, and particularly to make a better disposition of the voices in your compositions and to write for them in a more rational and less fatiguing manner."

At that time Rossini was the king of musical Italy, and the enthusiasm produced by his works was beginning to take from the renown of such richly inspired artists as Cimarosa, Guglielmo, Sarti, Paisiello, his immediate predecessors. Everybody knows the influence which was exerted all over musical Europe for half a century, by the exuberant and sensual, though charming and seductive, genius of the author of the _Barber_ and _Cenerentola_. All the artists, not only of Italy, but of France as well and some even of Germany, came under this influence to a greater or less extent. Meyerbeer escaped it no more than the rest; one might even say that he had no desire to escape it. He went straight from Vienna to Venice, where he arrived just at the height of _Tancredi's_ immense success in that city; this opera, by the way, was one of the most personal, most vivacious and most savory works from Rossini's pen. He could not resist the charm of this chivalresque and enchanting music, and he was so captivated by the _èclat_ of the Rossinian forms that he began to assimilate them as rapidly as possible.

From the Carnavalet Museum, Paris.]

It is probable, however, that he reflected longer than people have hitherto given him credit for, on the transformation which he allowed to operate in his talent, for it was not until he had spent several years in Italy, that is to say in 1818, that he appeared to the public of that country for the first time. With his calm and meditative mind, with his studious and persevering nature, we may suppose that he employed his time in working silently, in solitude, to modify his style, to acquire the assurance which he lacked, to give elegance and facility to the forms of his melody, without compromising thereby the sentiment of a rich and abundant harmony, the beauties of an original and vigorous instrumentation. It was not, then, until after this complete remodelling of his early education, this training of his faculties, that he decided to brave the stage anew, and to solicit the approbation of a public to whom he was quite unknown. If this Italian career of Meyerbeer, of which I am about to give a brief review, offers only a secondary interest from the standpoint of the value of his works, it offers a very great one as a transitional stage, covering as it does the period of the development of his genius, and the evolution by which he was preparing himself for the great masterpieces with which he was to endow the French lyric stage, those masterpieces which were to seal his glory and render his fame universal.

From collection of prints at the Paris Opera.]

It was at Padua, July 10, 1818, that he gave his first Italian opera, _Romilda e Costanza_, the principal rôle of which was written for Pisaroni, one of the most illustrious _cantatrices_ of that period. From the very first performance the opera was a great success, and he immediately wrote another work, _Semiramide riconosciuta_, on an ancient poem of Métastasio, which he brought out at the Royal Theatre at Turin in 1819. The following year he gave to the San Benedetto Theatre of Venice, his third opera, _Emma di Resburgo_, which met with enthusiastic success at a moment when, on this very stage, Rossini had just triumphed with his _Edouardo e Christina_. This work fully established his reputation in Italy, all the great cities esteemed it an honor to present him to their public, and everywhere he obtained the most complete success. This was not all. The Germans themselves, who made a point of disparaging Italian music, made two translations of this opera; one of them, _Emma von Leicester_, was played at Vienna, Dresden, Munich and Frankfort; the other, _Emma von Roxburg_, was performed at Berlin and Stuttgart. It may be well to recall here that the subject of this work was borrowed from the French opera _Héléna_, by Méhul.

This colossal success opened to Meyerbeer the doors of the largest theatres of Italy. The first of them all, the Scala of Milan, immediately ordered a great work of him. It was _Margherita d'Angiù_, which was performed at this theatre Nov. 14, 1820, where it was sung by Tacchinardi, Levasseur and Rosa Mariani. Here, again, the success was complete, and _Margherita d'Angiù_, almost immediately translated and performed in Germany, was afterwards translated into French for representation at the Odéon. On March 12, 1822, Meyerbeer gave to the Scala theatre the opera _l'Esule di Granata_, the first rôles of which were confided to the tenor Winter, to Lablache, to Mmes. Pisaroni, Adelaide Tosi and Carolina Bassi. But the last triumphs of the composer had excited envy; jealousy awoke on every side, and a cabal was organized for the purpose of crushing this new work. The first act indeed fell flat, thanks to this cabal, and the second seemed doomed to the same fate, when a beautiful _duo_, admirably sung by Lablache and Pisaroni came just in time to save all, and change into a triumph the fall which had appeared inevitable.

After this new success, Meyerbeer's health failed him. He had gone to Rome, where he was to bring out an opera in two acts entitled _Almanzor_. He had begun to write the score, when the state of his health obliged him to stop work and seek absolute rest. As soon as he was able he went to Germany, where he passed the whole of the year 1823, now at Berlin, now at some watering place. In the course of this year he wrote a German opera, _The Brandeburg Gate_, which was intended for the Königstadt theatre, but which, it is not known why, was never performed. He then returned to Italy, where awaited him the last and greatest triumphs in that country.

It is here that this second phase of Meyerbeer's remarkably active and productive career will come to a close. We may be sure that he had already felt a desire to work for the French stage, whither the very nature of his powerful and profoundly dramatic genius seemed to call him. We are now to see him direct his efforts towards this end, preparing himself for the change by his last Italian work, written in a more elevated, loftier strain than the preceding ones, and which seemed to indicate on his part a fixed determination to create another distinct manner. In order to attain this third and last manner, ingrafted, as it were, on the two preceding ones, it was necessary for him to adopt a method analogous to the one which he had used on arriving in Italy. Just as he had to abandon, on touching foot to Italian soil, everything in his style which might appear too scholastic, heavy and formal, so, in going to France, he was obliged to lay aside the affected elegance, frivolous grace and superficial language of the Italian forms. He endeavored to retain and combine the best elements in the various schools,--to unite the melodic sentiment of Italy to the harmonic richness of Germany, and to join to these the picturesque coloring, the passionate ardor, and above all the sense of dramatic truth which are the characteristic qualities of the French musical school. It was then, after he had transformed his style by this fusion of three different but not antagonistic elements, the union of which must form a harmonious and well balanced whole, after he had become master both of his thought and of the idea which should clothe it, it was then that he found himself in full possession of himself and of his genius and that he became the great man whose name was universally known and whose works everywhere challenged admiration.

The great work of transition with which Meyerbeer was to crown his brilliant career in Italy and prepare his future triumphs on the French stage, was called _il Crociato Egitto_. This opera, conceived in a broad and severe style, plainly showed the new preoccupations of his mind and gave a glimpse of his approaching evolution. The distinct individuality of the composer showed itself in this remarkable score, in which it was easy to see his inclination for energetic and vigorous expression of the grand dramatic situations. _Il Crociato_, brought out at the Fenice theatre, Venice, Dec. 26, 1824, had for its principal interpreters Mme. Mérie-Lalande, Lablache and Velluti. Its success was immense, and it soon made the tour of all Italy. This success was so great as to move Paris, and the duke of Rochefoucauld, then superintendent of the royal theatres, immediately arranged to have _il Crociato_ played at the _Thèâtre Italien_. He wrote to the composer, inviting him to come and supervise the staging of his opera and direct the rehearsals. The rôles were given to Danzelli, Levasseur, Mmes. Pasta, Monbelli, Schiasetti and Giovanola. This was the first of Meyerbeer's works performed at Paris, and its success was as great as in Italy.

From woodcut in "L'Univers Illustré," Paris.]

Henceforth Meyerbeer was to belong entirely to France. After having seen his _Crociato_ played at the _Italien_, he had the satisfaction of seeing his _Margherita d'Angiù_ translated into French and performed successfully at the _Odéon_. It was to this last fact that he owed the speedy gratification of his desire to work for the musical stages of France, although, owing to an unexpected series of events, he was obliged to await for several years the representation of his first work, and this work, written with the _Opéra Comique_ in view, had to be completely transformed and adapted for the _Opéra_. This is the way it happened.

The subject of the Italian opera of _Margherita d'Angiù_ had been taken from a French drama, _Marguérite d'Anjou_, played in 1810 at the _Gaité_ theatre, and the author of which was Guilbert de Pièxèrcourt. The two very naturally made each other's acquaintance, Pièxèrcourt's authorization being necessary for the representation on a French stage of a foreign opera whose subject belonged to him. An intimacy sprung up between them, and Meyerbeer profited by it to ask Pièxèrcourt for a poem to set to music for the _Opéra Comique_. The latter willingly consented, confided to him _Robert le Diable_, by Scribe, and the composer immediately set to work. The rôles of _Robert le Diable_ were to be distributed as follows: Ponchard (Robert), Huet (Bertram), Mme. Boulanger (Alice) and Mme. Rigaud (Isabella). Obliged in the meantime to make a trip to Berlin, Meyerbeer took the poem with him, in order to continue the work during his absence. But while he was in Germany a little revolution took place at the _Opéra Comique_ which resulted in Guilbert de Pièxèrcourt being dispossessed of his office of director. What happened then? All the particulars are not known, but _Robert_ was withdrawn from the _Opéra Comique_, Scribe enlarged and transformed his poem, Meyerbeer rewrote his score, and the work was carried to the _Opéra_. It is easy to understand that all this occasioned a long delay. But this was not all. The revolution of 1830 occurred, which brought everything to a standstill, and which, after the change of dynasty at the head of the country, brought about a change in the management of the _Opéra_, where Lubbert was replaced by the famous Dr. Véron. The latter hesitated a good deal about mounting so important a work by a composer as yet little known in France, although he had achieved great success elsewhere. He finally decided in its favor, however, the rôles were distributed to Nourrir, Levasseur, Mmes. Dorus-Gras and Cinti-Damoreau, and _Robert le Diable_ was finally performed Nov. 22, 1831.

However, Meyerbeer was still to grow, and _les Huguenots_, performed at the _Opéra_, Feb. 21, 1836, was to be the crowning point of his glory. It should be said that he was admirably served by his collaborator Scribe. The latter, after having given him the fantastic poem of _Robert_, wrote for him the the passionate, pathetic and dramatic poem of the _Huguenots_, which revived at the same time a splendid page of history, in which he introduced, in the happiest manner, a picturesque element which permitted the artist to vary his palette and give to each episode a color of its own. The most diverse and powerful situations abound in this superb poem, and it is just to declare that Meyerbeer has interpreted them with an incomparable genius.