Chapter IV: Part 4

The action takes place in Italy during the sixteenth century. Proserpine, a courtesan, is in love with Sabatino, a young nobleman, who is engaged to be married to Angiola, the sister of his friend. After endeavouring vainly to entrap Angiola and her brother, assisted by Squarocca, a bandit, she seeks Sabatino, who is awaiting his bride. When Angiola enters, Proserpine hides behind some drapery. Maddened by jealousy at hearing the lovers interchange protestations of affection, she rushes forward and strikes Angiola with her stiletto. Sabatino then snatches the weapon from her hands and plunges it into her heart.

This story was considered somewhat melodramatic in Paris, and the _dénouement_ has since been somewhat modified. A few alterations have been made in the score, and in its new form "Proserpine" will surely be performed sooner or later. There are some delightful numbers in this opera, which throughout bears the impress of the master's hand. I will especially draw attention to the closing scene of the second act, which is a perfect gem of delicate fancy and exquisite workmanship. The scene represents the interior of a convent, and a number of mendicants enter to receive alms. Their voices are accompanied by a melodic figure which is repeated in various guises until the fall of the curtain, without ever sounding monotonous in any degree, through the consummate art and skilful manipulation with which it is handled.

With his next opera Saint-Saëns returned to the Grand Opéra, where "Ascanio" was produced in 1890. Benvenuto Cellini is the leading character in this work, but the composer discarded the great sculptor's name as his title, probably out of deference to the memory of Berlioz, whose first dramatic attempt bore that name. These scruples did not trouble Mons. Diaz, who curiously enough brought out an opera bearing that title during the same year at the Opéra Comique, where it met with no success. There has always been something of the mystifier in Saint-Saëns. He likes to go his own way, regardless of what may be expected of him or whether he satisfies the partisans of any particular style of music. Mons. Camille Bellaigue remarks that he was not much astonished that this work should have produced a feeling of surprise and even of disappointment. "L'oeuvre," he says, "que peut-être on attendait puissante et grandiose, n'est que touchante parfois, toujours intime et presque familière."

This definition gives so good an idea of the general character of the opera that I do not hesitate to reproduce it here. The plot of "Ascanio" is rather complicated for a "lyrical drama," the numberless episodes that occur detracting from the continuity of the work. Saint-Saëns appears to have composed the music in a remarkably short space of time, less than a year. Those who take the trouble to study this interesting score, which has been aptly termed a musical mosaic, will appreciate the prodigious amount of labour involved. The composer has again employed representative themes, very much after the system he had previously adopted in his "Henri VIII." The score of "Ascanio" is a veritable monument of ingenuity, and if it does not produce an altogether satisfactory impression, the fault may be ascribed rather to the book than to the music.

A curious incident in connection with the first performance of this opera was that the composer, doubtless anxious to seek perfect rest after his prolonged labours, and desirous of avoiding the fatigues consequent upon attending its production, took himself away and carefully omitted to leave his address behind. Weeks elapsed, and no news of him was forthcoming. Fanciful stories were concocted of how he had met with foul play. Telegrams were dispatched all the world over, with the result that he was authoritatively declared to have been seen in at least a dozen different places several hundred miles away one from the other. Finally, he was discovered, quite by chance, under an assumed name in the Canary Islands. A visitor staying in the same hotel, hearing some one playing the piano in a manner the reverse of amateurish, and having that morning read about the mysterious disappearance in the French papers, had the curiosity to go down and verify the suspicions that had occurred to him. He had no difficulty in identifying the composer, and in a very short time the news had spread all over the place. Saint-Saëns then had to pay the penalty of being a celebrity. He wrote thus to Mons. Louis Gallet, his friend and collaborator: "For the last three days, since I have been recognised, I lead an insupportable life. I do not have a moment to myself. I am scribbling you these lines whilst talking. If there is no common sense in what I say, do not be surprised."

The last dramatic work produced by Saint-Saëns is "Phryné," a two-act comic opera, given at the Opéra Comique in the month of May of the present year (1893).

It might have been hoped that a composer such as Saint-Saëns would have thought fit to devote his great gifts to the elaboration of a "musical comedy" that might have ranked side by side with Wagner's "Meistersinger" and Verdi's' "Falstaff." Not one of his countrymen is better qualified than he is for such a task. Perhaps he may undertake it later on. At any rate, he has not attempted anything of the kind in "Phryné," which is modelled upon an old pattern, includes spoken dialogue, and consists of a number of detached pieces, following the conventional practice associated with the Opéra Comique.

In writing this graceful score Saint-Saëns has evidently aimed at simplicity. There are some charming numbers of a melodious nature in this little work, which also displays the composer's capacity of dealing with humorous situations to great advantage. Perhaps the best portion is the "Invocation to Venus," in which the means employed are of the simplest, whilst the results are eminently poetical and effective. "Phryné" has proved very successful in Paris. The title part has been interpreted by Miss Sybil Sanderson, whom the composer has gratified with a liberal allowance of _roulades_ and other vocal acrobatics.

It now remains for me to allude to some of the other compositions of Saint-Saëns in various lines--and what line has he not attempted? That one who has achieved so great a reputation as an organist should also have distinguished himself as a composer of sacred music stands to reason. One of his most representative works of this kind is his oratorio "Le Déluge," which exhibits the peculiar characteristics of his style to an almost equal degree as "Samson et Dalila." Every one knows, or ought to know, the beautiful Prelude with the lovely violin solo, the commencement of which is suggestive of Bach, whilst the end is reminiscent of Gounod. I must also mention his noble "Requiem" and fine setting of the psalm "Coeli enarrant." The "Oratorio de Noël" is an early work, but contains several charming pages.

To analyse in detail all the compositions of this indefatigable worker would take up a volume in itself. I must therefore be content with the bare mention of songs full of originality, such as the "Mélodies Persanes," pianoforte music like the "Menuet et Valse," "Six études," and the three Mazourkas; violin music such as the three Concertos, the "Introduction et Rondo Capriccioso" so often played by Señor Sarasate, the Sonata, op. 75, for the same instrument; and violoncello music such as the characteristic "Suite," the admirable Sonata, op. 32, and the Concerto, which is a favourite with all 'cellists. Neither must I omit the masterly variations for two pianos on a theme of Beethoven, or the splendid pianoforte transcriptions from Bach. Several of these works may almost be said to rank as classics. Two important compositions remain to be noted, both of which were produced for the first time in England. The first of these is the picturesque cantata "La Lyre et la Harpe," composed for the Birmingham Festival of 1879; and the second is the Symphony in C Minor, first produced by the Philharmonic Society in 1885. It seems strange indeed that a work so remarkable in every way as the last should not be given oftener. Saint-Saëns has not here written a symphony upon the usual model, but has endeavoured to produce something entirely unconventional, whilst keeping within certain limits, that enabled him to claim the title of symphony for a work which, although possessing many of the characteristics of the _genre_, yet in the matter of form differs much from the compositions of recognised masters. If the influence of Beethoven is not absent, neither is that of Liszt, and there is as much if not more of the "symphonic poem" in a work, that is unique in its way, than of the symphony proper. A curious detail to note is that in this work the organ and piano are added to the usual orchestra.

Saint-Saëns is a very quick worker. The rapidity with which he is able to conceive and transcribe a work of large proportions is all the more remarkable for the reason that his writing never exhibits the slightest sign of that carelessness often engendered by undue haste. The following extract from Mons. Hugues Imbert's "Profils de Musiciens" will give an idea of this: "With Saint-Saëns the conception is rapid; he writes without pause or hesitation (_d'un seul jet_). Once the idea is chosen and defined, he immediately realises the development. He orchestrates with the greatest ease, whilst conversing, and almost without making any corrections. Scarcely does he find it necessary to have recourse to the piano in order to aid his inspiration. His opera 'Proserpine' was composed at Chaville, without the aid of any instrument. He writes a score or a symphony as he would pen a letter or an article, or as he would solve a problem. A number of instances are cited concerning his prodigious facility of creation; we will only recall the following: A few years ago he had promised to write an _opérette revue_ for the Cercle Volney, of which he is a member. A few days before the performance nothing had as yet arrived. Upon inquiry from Saint-Saëns himself it was discovered that he had totally forgotten his promise. 'But,' said he, 'the evil can be repaired;' and in the space of two hours he wrote off twenty-one pages of full score."

Some critics have found the music of Saint-Saëns devoid of feeling, cold and passionless. How it is possible to come to this conclusion after hearing pages such as the famous love duet in "Samson et Dalila," or the quartet in "Henri VIII.," it is difficult to understand.

And yet Mons. Arthur Pougin, the well-known critic, has not scrupled to pass the following judgment on Saint-Saëns in his article upon the composer, included in the Supplement to Fétis's "Biographie des Musiciens": "Le tempérament musical de Mons. Saint-Saëns est sec, nerveux, absolument dépourvu de tendresse, de sentiment et de passion." After this it again becomes evident that a great man is not necessarily a prophet in his own country. When he penned the above lines Mons. Arthur Pougin was presumably unacquainted with "Samson et Dalila."

In the course of this incomplete sketch of one of the most remarkable artists of his time I have alluded to his polemics as a critic. A few years since, he collected some of his writings together, and published them in a volume entitled "Harmonie et Mélodie." In this book will be found various criticisms, many of which are as just as they are well expressed, but it is to be regretted that the author should occasionally have thought fit to mix up so-called "patriotic ideas" with his musical opinions.

For many years Saint-Saëns used to be considered one of the ardent champions of Wagner. The moment, though, that the Bayreuth master's music seemed to obtain a firm hold upon the French public, through the medium of the weekly concerts given by Messrs. Lamoureux and Colonne, the French composer's zeal appeared to cool down, and the enthusiast gave way to the critic. Any one is of course entitled to air his opinions, and no one more so than a composer of such eminence as Saint-Saëns. The mistake was that he chose the wrong moment to publish his views, and thereby stirred up a controversy which would best have been avoided.

In 1879 he recorded his impressions of the "Ring des Nibelungen" in a series of remarkable articles that are reproduced in the volume above mentioned. His opinion of this colossal work was summed up in these words: "From the height of the last act of the 'Götterdämmer[)u]ng,' the entire work appears, in its almost supernatural immensity, like the chain of the Alps seen from the summit of Mont Blanc."

He terminates the preface of "Harmonie et Mélodie" by these words: "I admire the works of Richard Wagner profoundly, in spite of their eccentricities (_en dépit de leur bizarrerie_). They are superior and powerful, which suffices for me. But I have never belonged, I do not belong, and I never shall belong, to the Wagnerian religion!"

This being the case, I am unable to see why the composer of "Henri VIII." should have taken so much pains to qualify his opinions. He admires Wagner, and it certainly would be odd if a composer of his value did not; but he is anxious to avoid being comprised amongst those fanatics, whose admiration of Wagner prevents their acknowledging the greatness of any other composer.

It may here be noted that when the publisher Flaxland acquired the French copyright of "Lohengrin," the translation was at the author's request submitted to Saint-Saëns, who wrote, in the newspaper _La France_, that when "Lohengrin" was about to be produced in Paris, he, at the desire of the publisher and M. Charles Nuitter the translator, revised the French version and refused to participate in the _droits d'auteurs_.

Amongst his many gifts Saint-Saëns possesses that of the poet, and has proved his capability of writing charming verses. I will quote the following satirical lines written by him after the production of Bizet's "Djamileh," the delightful little one-act work which has recently been revived with success on various operatic boards, the merits of which were totally unrecognised by the Parisians in 1872:

"'_Djamileh,' fille et fleur de l'Orient sacré,
D'une étrange guzla faisant vibrer la corde,
Chante, en s'accompagnant sur l'instrument nacré,
L'amour extravagant dont son âme déborde._

_Le bourgeois ruminant dans sa stalle serré,
Ventru, laid, à regret séparé de sa horde,
Entr'ouvre un oeil vitreux, mange un bonbon sucré,
Puis se rendort, croyant que l'orchestre s'accorde._

_Elle, dans les parfums de rose et de santal,
Poursuit son rêve d'or, d'azur et de crystal,
Dédaigneuse à jamais de la foule hébétée.
Et l'on voit, au travers des mauresques arceaux,
Ses cheveux dénoués tombant en noirs ruisseaux,
S'éloigner la Houri, perle, aux pourceaux jetée._"

He has lately published a little volume of poems which he has entitled "Rimes Familières," from which I have extracted the lines addressed to Mme. Viardot.

There is a great fund of humour in Saint-Saëns. This has shown itself in many of his works, and occasionally he has given full rein to his fanciful imagination by writing a burlesque set of pieces entitled "Le Carnaval des Animaux," and another time by composing a parody of Italian opera, which he called "Gabriella di Vergy." Is there not a vein of grim humour in the "Danse Macabre"?

It is related that he once took part in an amateur performance of Offenbach's "Belle Hélène," and interpreted the character of Calchas! A detail to note: the composer of "Samson et Dalila" is still known as "ce jeune maître," although his birthday belongs to the year 1835. It is more than probable that he will keep this title to the end.

Camille Saint-Saëns has retained all his freshness of inspiration, and there is no knowing into what paths his fancy may lead him. But whether he elects to add to the number of his symphonic poems, to produce some fresh example of chamber music, or to elaborate the score of a "lyrical drama," he may rest assured that his doings will be followed with deep attention on the part of all who take interest in music.

JULES MASSENET

In the year 1842 there lived near St. Etienne, in the department of the Loire, an ironmaster of the name of Massenet, an ex-superior officer of engineers, who had been twice married, and both of whose unions had been blessed in a manner apparently rare in France. In the year in question yet one more offspring was destined to be added to the already crowded quiverful. This child, who was named Jules, was the future composer of "Manon" and "Werther." It is needless to state that, alike to all great musicians, Massenet gave evidence of talent at an early age, to the extent that he was sent to the Conservatoire, where he rapidly distinguished himself.

His family, who at that time resided in Paris, were, however, obliged, on account of his father's health, to leave the capital. It appears that young Massenet, tormented by the desire to resume studies that had been so brilliantly begun, thereupon made up his mind to quit the paternal roof, which was then situated in the town of Chambéry, in Savoy, and one day, without saying a word to any one, he undertook to walk all the way to Lyons. How he ever got there it is difficult to say, for he had apparently neglected to provide himself with ready cash, doubtless deeming this a superfluity and a needless encumbrance. Trifles such as these sit lightly on a mind of fourteen, and young Massenet succeeded somehow or other in reaching the great manufacturing centre; where he discovered the abode of a relative, and presented himself, tired and hungry, to his astonished gaze. Having explained the cause of his sudden appearance, the young truant was forthwith expedited back to his parents, who, seeing that it was useless to combat so decided a vocation, made up their minds to send him to Paris in order that he might continue his studies. Unfortunately, it is impossible to live upon air, and during the time when he was mastering the principles of his art the young neophyte was obliged to look for some occupation that would help him to keep body and soul together. This he was fortunate enough to find at the Théâtre Lyrique, where he obtained the privilege of presiding over the kettledrums at a salary of 65 francs a month. It was not precisely riches, but it sufficed to keep the wolf from the door. For six years did Massenet have the opportunity of venting the superfluity of his energies by striking the drums. In the meanwhile he was not idle, and the first prize for piano as well as the first prize for fugue were both successfully awarded to him. Finally, at the age of twenty-one he reached the goal of his ambition, obtained the "Grand Prix de Rome" through a cantata entitled "Rizzio," and departed for the Eternal City, where he remained for two years.

Massenet has himself recorded his impressions of Rome in some interesting autobiographical notes published recently in the _Century_.

"It was at Rome," he says, "that I began to live; there it was that during my happy walks with my comrades, painters or sculptors, and in our talks under the Villa Borghese or under the pines of the Villa Pamphili, I felt my first stirrings of admiration for Nature and for Art. What charming hours we spent in wandering through the museums of Naples and Florence! What tender, thoughtful emotions we felt in the dusky churches of Siena and Assisi! How thoroughly forgotten was Paris with its rushing crowds! Now I had ceased to be merely a musician; now I was much more than a musician. This ardour, this healthful fever still sustains me, for we musicians, like poets, must be the interpreters of true emotions. To feel, to make others feel--therein lies the whole secret."

It is natural that with recollections such as these Massenet should consider a sojourn in Rome to be fraught with great advantage to young musicians. He believes that a residence there "may give birth to poets and artists, and may awaken sentiments that otherwise might remain unknown to those in whom they lie dormant."

It was at the close of the year 1865 that he left Rome, and shortly after, a one-act comic opera from his pen, entitled "La Grande Tante," was produced at the Opéra Comique, according to the regulations, which prescribe that every winner of the "Prix de Rome" should have a one-act work played at this theatre. Massenet's hour had not yet arrived. His "Poème d'Avril," one of his most delicate inspirations, had been refused by a publisher, and he found himself obliged to earn his livelihood by giving lessons.

In 1869 he took part in the competition for the composition of an opera upon a libretto entitled "La Coupe du Roi de Thulé,"[25] but without success, the prize being awarded to Mons. Diaz,[26] whose work was subsequently brought out at the Opéra without creating any great sensation. This shows the value from an artistic point of view of these competitions.

The Franco-German war came to interrupt Massenet in his labours, and like a good patriot he served his country on the ramparts of Paris.

After matters had settled down he was able to again set to work. His next operatic venture was "Don César de Bazan," played at the Opéra Comique in 1872, concerning which it is not necessary to say much. A piquant little _entr'acte_ has survived, and is occasionally heard at concerts. A more important work was the music he composed to Leconte de Lisle's drama, "Les Erinnyes," which still ranks amongst his most remarkable productions.

Massenet has been most successful in imparting a sort of antique colouring to his score. A selection of the music has found its way into the concert-room, and was heard at the Crystal Palace under the composer's direction some years ago. The best numbers are the beautiful invocation of Electra and the characteristic dances.

The turning-point in the composer's career was at hand. He had written a sort of oratorio entitled "Marie Magdeleine," and having shown the score to Mme. Viardot, this great artist, who had been instrumental in furthering Gounod's _début_ as an operatic composer, was much struck by its merit, and determined to have it produced and sing in it herself. "Marie Magdeleine" was accordingly performed at the Odéon in 1873, and created a great stir in musical circles. This delicate and refined score reveals many of the special characteristics well known to those who admire the composer's music. It is very different from what we understand in England as an oratorio. The sensuous vein of melody and the sickly sentimentality which Massenet so often mistakes for true feeling are noticeable in many of its pages. "Marie Magdeleine" was just the sort of work to please a French audience of twenty years ago, whose acquaintance with Berlioz and Wagner was limited, and whose ideal was bounded by Gounod. It was the Bible doctored up in a manner suitable to the taste of impressionable Parisian ladies--utterly inadequate for the theme, at the same time very charming and effective. These words apply equally to "Eve," a work of the same nature that was produced two years later with equal success.

It is but right to say that Massenet has not employed the title of "oratorio" for either of the above works. "Marie Magdeleine" is styled a sacred drama, and "Eve" a _mystère_. Concerning the first of these Mons. Arthur Pougin informs us that Massenet had not intended to adopt "the broad, noble, and pompous style of the oratorio. Painter and poet, he had endeavoured in this new and long-thought-out work, to introduce _rêverie_ and description; he further employed the accents of a veritably human passion, of a tenderness in some way terrestrial, which might have given rise to criticism had he let it be imagined that he intended to follow on the traces of Handel, Bach, or Mendelssohn."

The feminine nature of Massenet's talent has often led him to choose frail members of the fair sex as heroines of his works, such as Mary Magdalen, Eve, Herodias, and Manon. He lacks depth of thought and strength to grapple successfully with Biblical subjects, and the absence of these is not atoned for by an artificiality of expression, and the too frequent employment of affected mannerisms. At the same time, there is a distinct element of poetry noticeable in all his works, and a peculiar sensuous charm is prominent in most of his compositions. These qualities are not to be despised. To them are to be added a richly-coloured and varied instrumentation, and an always interesting and often original harmonic treatment. Massenet's name was now well known to concert-goers, and was shortly to become so to that larger section of the community, the theatre-going public, through the production of his opera "Le Roi de Lahore." Previous to discussing the value of this work it will be well to mention the orchestral suites composed by him at different times, some of which occupy a permanent place in concert _répertoires_. Of these the most popular is entitled "Scènes Pittoresques," a set of four short movements, simple in structure, melodious, and well scored. There is not much in them, but although the material is scanty the workmanship is extremely clever, and the general effect decidedly pleasing. The "Scènes Dramatiques," after Shakespeare, the "Scènes Hongroises," and the "Scènes Alsaciennes" are interesting and replete with imagination and fancy.

Perhaps the most remarkable of the composer's purely instrumental works is the overture to Racine's "Phèdre," a composition full of passion and feeling, well worked out and admirably orchestrated, which is fully entitled to rank amongst the best modern concert overtures. It is to be regretted that the composer has not produced more works of the same kind. There is a virility of accent and an avoidance of specific mannerisms that may often be sought for in vain in his other compositions.

"Le Roi de Lahore," produced at the Opéra in 1877, obtained a great success, partly, perhaps, owing to the magnificence of the mounting, but also, it must be said, on account of the intrinsic value of the music. A spectacular opera in the fullest sense of the word, "Le Roi de Lahore" was a work eminently suited to a theatre such as the Grand Opéra, where the ballet, _mise-en-scène_, and other accessories rank on an equal footing with the music. It was produced on a grand scale, the ballet act, taking place in the Paradise of Indra, forming one of the most gorgeous spectacles possible.

This act is perhaps the best from a musical point of view. In it Massenet has given full rein to his fancy, and has composed dance music of a really superior kind, which he has enriched with a piquant and effective instrumentation. "Le Roi de Lahore" remains perhaps the best work that Massenet has composed for this theatre. It is more spontaneous than either "Le Cid" or "Le Mage," and contains many portions of great excellence. Every one knows the suave _cantilena_ for baritone that Mons. Lassalle used to interpret in so incomparable a fashion. In his criticism of this work Mons. A. Jullien formulates the following opinion of Massenet and the present school of French composers: "They all know their work admirably, and treat the orchestra to perfection. They have more or less natural grace and tenderness, but they often lack power and originality. They make up for the first of these by the employment of noisy effects, and for the other by a search after novelty that occasionally amounts to eccentricity. Neither have they got sufficiently settled ideas: they try to reconcile the elements of different schools; they do not write any more _roulades_ or _points d'orgue_, but they allow singers to spread out their fine voices on final cadences; they understand the necessity of renovating and vivifying the opera, but they only dare to make timid attempts in this direction at long intervals, and return immediately to used-up formulas, to _ensembles_, to choruses, and to the most commonplace finales."

There is a great deal of truth in these words; at the same time it is difficult to foresee an epoch when the "lyrical drama" will have attained that state of perfection as to be no more susceptible of improvement. The progress that has been effected in France during these last thirty years in the direction of a higher conception of the musical drama has been enormous. The ball has been set rolling by some of those composers who would perhaps now be anxious to arrest its course, but the impetus having been given, it has been kept going by the younger aspirants to operatic fame, and is not likely to stop.

"Le Roi de Lahore" obtained a distinct success, which was repeated in a number of continental cities, including our own metropolis.

Massenet visited England in 1878, and conducted a concert devoted to his own music at the Crystal Palace. The programme included extracts from "Le Roi de Lahore" and "Les Erinnyes." He also appeared at a concert given by Mme. Viard Louis at the St. James's Hall, on which occasion he directed the performance of his orchestral suite entitled "Scenes from Shakespeare."

Massenet's reputation was now established upon a solid basis. On the death of F. Bazin he had succeeded him as one of the leading professors of the Conservatoire. He had also been elected a member of the Institute. His next work, a religious cantata entitled "La Vierge," produced at the Opéra in 1880, was, however, coldly received. Massenet, who conducted the orchestra in person, was grievously disappointed at this, but set to work with renewed vigour at an opera entitled "Hérodiade," which was brought out with great success at Brussels in 1881. This work has since been given in Paris, as well as in various continental towns, where it has been well received. The nature of the subject necessarily stands in the way of its being produced in London. Certain extracts, however, have been heard in our concert-rooms. The score of "Hérodiade" abounds in examples of that sensuous melody so characteristic of the composer. There is very little Biblical about it, and it is to be regretted that another and better subject was not hit upon than this parody of Holy Writ. Massenet's strains would probably have been equally appropriate, and the susceptibilities of those who look upon this sort of thing as a desecration of religion would have been respected.

There is indeed a vast difference between taking a subject like "Samson et Dalila," against which none but the most strict could object, and turning St. John the Baptist into a commonplace operatic hero. If it were not for the libretto, "Hérodiade" ought to be heard in London, as it counts amongst its author's best works, and, despite certain weaknesses, occupies an honourable place in the ranks of modern operas.

The following lines, written by Camille Saint-Saëns after the first performance of "Hérodiade" at Brussels, will be read with interest. I will not spoil the charm of the original words by attempting to translate them; "La qualité maîtresse de la musique du jeune maître est la fraîcheur, qualité si rare que M. Massenet me parait être le seul à la possèder. On dirait par moments qu'il n'en sent pas le prix, à le voir poursuivre, en apparence du moins, un idéal de force violente. N'est-ce donc rien que le parfum de la rose, la voix du rossignol et l'aile du papillon? Bien des gens trouveront que la rose, le rossignol et le papillon ne sont pas fort a plaindre, et qu'ils n'ont que faire de lutter avec le tigre et le mancenillier."

We now arrive at the work through which Massenet is best known in this country, one which perhaps displays the peculiar nature of his talent to the greatest advantage. "Manon," that very fascinating musical setting of the Abbé Prévost's romance, was first played at the Opéra Comique in 1884. For twelve years no new opera by Massenet had been produced at this theatre, and he had since then conquered celebrity as a dramatic composer and as an orchestral writer. The famous novel of the Abbé Prévost had already previously been utilised for operatic purposes by Auber, and has since been used as an opera text by the Italian composer Puccini. It furnished Massenet with a subject particularly suited to his muse.

Apropos of Auber's setting, the following story is related:

Auber did not enjoy the reputation of being a great reader. One day he received a visit from a friend, who found him at his writing-table. Upon inquiring what he was working at, Auber replied: "I am busy with the first act of my new opera."--"By whom is the book?"--"By Scribe."--"Might I ask its title and subject?"--"Manon Lescaut."--"Manon! that splendid masterpiece?"--"The romance; do you mean a romance?" asked Auber.--"Yes, certainly."--"Mon Dieu! I have never read that," said Auber.--"What! you write an opera on the subject of Manon, and have not read the story?"--"True; I have not got it in my library, for I have just been looking for it."--"Well, borrow it from Scribe."--"But I don't think Scribe has read it either," said Auber, "he may have glanced at it to get the situations, but Scribe never wastes his time if he can help it."

Massenet's opera contains an innovation which has a certain importance and deserves to be noted. It is well known that the old-fashioned _opéra comique_ comprised spoken dialogue. The tendency of late years has been to abandon this illogical custom, and the ideas of most composers nowadays tend in this direction. Certain ingrained habits are hard to get rid of, and even now there are composers of eminence who either have not the courage or inclination to break with a custom so antagonistic to the principles of the lyrical drama.

Massenet, a musician of compromise, imagined a method which he doubtless thought would give musical continuity to his work without departing absolutely from the customs of the theatre. This was to retain the spoken dialogue, but to accompany it with an orchestral commentary in keeping with the words. A similar method has been employed with success in dramas for which incidental music has been written. It is not a course that can be recommended for operatic purposes, although the effect in "Manon" is not unpleasing. The analogy existing between the stories of "Manon" and "La Traviata," or rather "La Dame aux Camélias," is sufficiently striking. Several situations are almost identical. In both cases we have a heroine for whom it is difficult to feel much sympathy, a weak young man, and a heavy father given to singing long-winded _cantilenas_. The subject is essentially French, or rather Parisian, and the music of Massenet fits it like a glove. The composer's mannerisms seem less out of place in the mouth of Manon than they do in that of Mary Magdalen. Massenet is essentially a colourist, and even as he had succeeded in imparting an Eastern _cachet_ to his "Roi de Lahore," and giving a tinge of the antique to his music for "Les Erinnyes," so in "Manon" he has felicitously caught the spirit of the last century. This delicately perfumed score is in many places suggestive of the boudoir of a _petite maítresse_. There are plenty of accents of genuine passion noticeable in the course of the work, such as those in the great duet between Manon and Des Grieux; also in the fine monologue of the latter. It is in what might be termed operas _de demi caractère_ that Massenet excels, and he would do well in future to confine himself to this and eschew works of larger calibre, such as "Le Cid" and "Le Mage," the two latest operas that he has produced upon the stage of the Grand Opéra.

"Manon" has been successful on the Continent, but curiously enough, does not appear to have taken much in London, despite the superb interpretation of the hero by M. Van Dyck. An English version was produced by the Carl Rosa Company in 1885, and it has remained in the _répertoire_.

The year after the production of "Manon" Massenet reappeared as the musical delineator of another French classic. This time he sought inspiration from Corneille, undeterred by the failure of Gounod over "Polyeucte."

"Le Cid" is one of the great dramatic poet's finest works, and one with which I will not do my readers the injustice to suppose them unacquainted. The music of this opera contains much that is excellent, but fails in many respects to do justice to the heroic subject. In his efforts to be powerful the composer is often merely noisy. The best portions are certain _hors d'oeuvre_, such as the delightfully characteristic ballet music. "Le Cid" has apparently proved to the taste of the _habitués_ of the Opéra, and has been successfully performed on the Continent.

A work which I should from many points of view be disposed to prefer is "Esclarmonde," produced at the Opéra Comique in 1889, the year of the International Exhibition. In this opera Massenet has taken a step in advance as regards the musical form he has adopted. "Esclarmonde" is constructed more according to the lines of the modern "lyrical drama," and the composer has made use of "representative themes" to a great extent. One of these indeed bears a certain affinity to a motive in the "Meistersinger." This apparent adherence to the principles of the Bayreuth master caused some waggishly disposed critic to allude to Massenet as "Mlle. Wagner." "Esclarmonde" is really a remarkable opera, and should be given in London. The story, which is taken from an old romance of chivalry, is a species of fairy tale and has this peculiarity about it that, reversing the ordinary order of things, it is the heroine who falls in love with the hero, who, it must be owned, does not seem inclined to repel her advances. The lady in question being gifted with magic powers, causes the object of her flame to be transported to an enchanted island, where she visits him every night without his being allowed to contemplate her features. The love duet between the two is one of the most passionate and voluptuous examples of amorous music that has been heard on the stage. A species of orchestral interlude, played whilst the lovers are gradually surrounded by the trees and boughs of the enchanted island, is remarkably expressive, impregnated as it is with a peculiar sensuousness of utterance and exuberance of passionate feeling. This perhaps is the finest page in an opera that must count as one of its author's best works. Mons. Adolphe Jullien, whom I have had occasion to quote more than once in the course of this volume, remarks that Massenet's great fault is that he alternately attempts every style and perseveres in none. Certain it is that "Le Cid" was a distinct falling off after "Manon," and that "Le Mage," produced at the Grand Opéra in 1891, was absolutely inferior to "Esclarmonde." It is of course impossible for any musician to command inspiration. Certain subjects have the power of appealing to a composer more than others. With Massenet, as I have previously remarked, these rather pertain to the _genre intime_.

"Le Mage" is a spectacular opera upon a large scale, the action of which takes place in the time of Zoroaster.

It furnished grand opportunities for the scenic artists to display their skill, but was admittedly a disappointment from a musical point of view. The composer was destined to take his _revanche_ with "Werther," performed for the first time in Vienna on the 16th of February 1892. The composition of this work dates already some years back. It was in 1885, the master relates himself, when he had just terminated "Le Cid," that Mons. Hartmann, his publisher, suggested to him the idea of setting Goethe's story to music. Pleased with the notion, Massenet entered into communication on the subject with Messrs. Milliet and Blau, the authors of the libretto. The book having been supplied, Massenet set to work in the spring of 1885, and the opera was completed at the end of the winter of 1886.

When he was asked for a new opera by the director of the Opéra Comique, to be played during the International Exhibition of 1889, the composer preferred to let him have "Esclarmonde," deeming this to be more fitted for the occasion.

Having had to go to Vienna to superintend the rehearsals of "Manon," a proposition was made to produce his "Werther" at the Imperial Opera House.

Massenet, in the course of a conversation published in the _Echo de Paris_, gives some interesting details concerning the administration of the two imperial theatres in Vienna.

"Hierarchically, and in the first rank, Prince Hohenlohe, the direct representative of His Majesty, dominates. After him come first a high official personage bearing the title of General Intendant, and then in the third place the director, Mons. Jahn. The artists, including the ballet-dancers, are looked upon as accomplishing a service of State. Each day official carriages take them to the rehearsals. These take place from ten o'clock to half-past twelve, in the most absolute _huis clos_. In the evening equally, during the performance, no one is admitted either behind the scenes or in the boxes, and this from the point of view of the strictest morality. They play, sing, and dance without any stranger being allowed to be present. The archdukes themselves are not admitted."

Massenet also gives an account of the trying ordeal he underwent when playing through his score for the first time before the director and all the artists. He was admitted into an immense and luxuriously furnished room, capable of containing over 200 people. "All the artists," he relates, "were seated there, grouped in a charming but imposing _ensemble_. At my entrance they all got up and bowed. The director approached me and said a few amiable and too flattering words of welcome. All this was assuming the intimidating aspect of an official reception. I felt much moved. With the exception of my two old interpreters, Mdlle. Renard and Vandyck, I knew no one. Meanwhile the director led me to the piano, on the desk of which my yet unpublished score was placed, open at the first page. I sat down on the stool and was about to strike the first chord.... At this moment I must tell you an intense feeling of emotion came over me.... My heart was beating as if it would burst.... In one second, with a really painful intensity, I felt the vivid notion of the artistic responsibility which I was incurring.... What a terrible game I was about to play.... This score of 'Werther' was six years old.... I scarcely had it in my memory.... How many works by me had not been played since.... I was finding myself, alone, far from my country, representing by the force of circumstances French musical art.... On the other hand, I had full conscience of the undeserved honour that was being conferred on me.... Was I not in Vienna, the guest of the Emperor, invited at the expense of the State, and remembering that alone two masters before me--both above criticism--Verdi and Wagner, had been the objects of such a high and such a precious distinction?... All these thoughts suddenly came into my brain; tears rose to my eyes, and stupidly, like a weak woman, I began to weep. Then what kindness and delicate attention was shown all around me. 'Courage, courage,' was said to me from all sides. I made an immense effort, and still trembling with emotion I played through the entire score. This was in Vienna the first hearing of 'Werther.'"

In Goethe's sadly pathetic story, Massenet has found a subject eminently suited to the peculiar nature of his talent. The idyllic charm of the sad tale has inspired him to write pages full of poetry and refinement.

"Werther" was a distinct success in Vienna, and this success was repeated when the opera was produced in Paris at the Opéra Comique. Massenet has seemingly been desirous in this work of writing a "lyrical drama" rather than an ordinary opera. He has kept his music well within the bounds of a subject so simple yet so interesting and so human. We do not find set duets, choruses, or _ensembles_ in this delicate and artistic score, and we need not regret their absence.

Long before Massenet's time, "Werther" had been set to music by Pugnani, musical director to the King of Sardinia. It was played at the Burg Theatre in Vienna in 1796. Pugnani's work was described as a symphony, which the composer sought to make as realistic as possible. On one occasion it was performed at Turin before a party of invited guests. Pugnani conducted in his shirt sleeves. At the moment when Werther dies, Pugnani pulled a pistol out of his pocket and fired it.

Blangini also wrote a cantata upon the same subject, which he entitled "Werther's Swan Song, half an hour before his death." At that time Werther's Lotte (Frau von Kestner) was still living in Hanover, and she journeyed to Cassel on purpose to hear Blangini's work.

A curious thing happened when Massenet's "Werther" was given at Weimar in 1892. Giessen, the Weimar tenor, was deputed to sing the title _rôle_. His real name happens to be Buff, and he is a grand-nephew of Lotte, whose name was also Buff. When the Weimar performance took place it was therefore discovered that Giessen had to make love to his own great-aunt. In the German version of the opera Goethe's text is faithfully followed. Both Lotte and Werther are drawn from life.

A few days after the first performance of "Werther" at Vienna a ballet, entitled "Le Carillon," by the same composer, to a _scenario_ furnished by M. Van Dyck, was successfully produced upon the same boards. Massenet has another opera in readiness, which has not yet been presented to the public--"Thaïs," a lyrical drama in three acts, words by Louis Gallet.

The composer of "Werther" is an indefatigable worker, and being in the full force of his maturity, may yet be counted upon to further enrich the operatic _répertoire_. Concerning his powers of work the following story is related: The director of one of the French operas, in speaking with the composer, said, "My dear Master, give me the secret of your abnormal creative ability. Every day you listen to a crowd of singers, you attend every rehearsal, and, besides, you are professor at the Conservatoire. When do you find time to work?" "When you are asleep," replied Massenet, quickly. It is true that Massenet rises every day at five, and works incessantly until midday.

In the Supplement to the "Biographie des Musiciens" of Fétis, edited by M. Arthur Pougin, published in 1880, mention is made of two "lyrical dramas," entitled "Robert de France" and "Les Girondins," upon which the composer was supposed to be engaged at the time. I am not aware whether these have been finished or not. Recently he has terminated the orchestration of Léo Delibes' "Kassya," left unfinished.

Whatever the composer's defects may be (and who is free from them?), there can be no doubt that Massenet has indisputably a style of writing peculiar to himself, which is more than can be said of all of his "confrères." His individuality may not be so marked as that of Gounod, whose influence, by the way, can be traced in some of his compositions, but it is none the less existent, and has been reflected in the works of many of his pupils.

Few musicians can touch him in the art of handling the orchestra. At the time when he was studying at the Conservatoire he astonished every one by the prodigious amount of work he got through, and the ease with which he was able to compose. This facility of production does not seem to have deserted him, and the danger lies, not in his composing too little, but in producing too much.

Massenet's position is so well established that he can now afford to concentrate his mind upon his work without troubling himself as to whether or not it pleases the superficial portion of the public. What he now requires is a good subject and a well-written libretto. I trust he may find both.

Although necessarily absorbed by his multifarious labours, Massenet finds time occasionally to attend to his social duties. A story is told of how one evening, when he was dining out, the mistress of the house insisted upon making him listen to her daughter's playing. At the end of the performance, upon being asked his opinion, Massenet gravely remarked that it was quite evident that the young lady had received a Christian education. "Why?" ejaculated the surprised parent. "Because she so scrupulously observes the precept of the evangelist--her right hand knoweth not what her left hand doeth."

ERNEST REYER

"Nowadays, more than ever, musicians have the leisure to occupy themselves with other things than music."

These bitter words, savouring of disappointed expectations, occur in the preface to the volume entitled _Notes de Musique_, written by Ernest Reyer and published in 1875.

Since that time the author of the above lines has received a tardy compensation for a somewhat unaccountable neglect, and his operas "Sigurd" and "Salammbô" have achieved what promises to be a permanent success at the Paris Opera.

Although the composer of these works is but little known in this country, yet he none the less occupies an honourable position in the front rank of modern musicians. His "Sigurd," which was given at Covent Garden some few years since, did not meet with the success due to its unquestionable merits.

A man of strong convictions, imbued with a high ideal and averse to anything approaching the spirit of compromise, Ernest Reyer had to wait longer before receiving due recognition than if he had been disposed to pander to the taste of the public at the cost of his artistic principles. This he has never done but he has been satisfied to work quietly and wait patiently until his hour should arrive, careless of popularity, and content to devote his talents to the sole cause of art. Born on Dec. 1, 1823, at Marseilles, Ernest Reyer at the age of sixteen went to Algeria, where he spent some time, living with his uncle, who had an appointment in the province of Constantine.

It may be that the early influences of the _milieu_ in which he was thrown may have had something to do with developing a tendency he exhibited later on of setting Oriental subjects to music. His first important work was an eastern symphonic ode, entitled "Le Sélam," the words of which were by Théophile Gautier, produced in 1850. This composition had the misfortune to come a little too late. Félicien David, in his "Désert," had already musically illustrated a subject in many ways similar, and the success of his work proved detrimental to that of his younger colleague.

Many years later (in 1876), Ernest Reyer was destined, curiously enough, to succeed Félicien David as a member of the Institute.

The _début_ of Reyer as a dramatic composer dates from the year 1854, when "Maître Wolfram," a one-act opera, was produced at the Opéra Comique. This was followed in 1858 by "Sacuntala," a ballet, at the Opéra; and in 1861 by "La Statue," at the Théâtre Lyrique. It was this last work which brought the composer's name in a prominent manner before the public. The distrust that existed at that period against all musicians holding so-called "advanced" ideas naturally affected Ernest Reyer, who was known to be an intimate friend of Berlioz, and to hold unorthodox views with regard to the nature of dramatic music. "Le Sélam" had come too late, "La Statue" arrived too soon. At a time when the beauties of "Tannhaüser" were unrecognised and this work had been hissed off the stage, when even Gounod's "Faust" was looked upon with suspicion, it is not surprising that a work exhibiting qualities of so serious a nature as "La Statue" should have met with only a partial success. At the same time the qualities abounding in this work were recognised by the press, and its author was by common consent classed among the most rising composers and looked upon as one from whom much was to be expected.

"La Statue," in its original form, included spoken dialogue. On the occasion of its revival at the Opéra Comique in 1878, the composer set this to music, to the great advantage of his work, thereby insuring that continuity which nowadays is rightly regarded as essential in operas of serious import.

The music to this work is impregnated with an indefinable Oriental colouring which imparts to it an undoubted measure of charm.