THE ABBE PREVOST AT THE OPERA-COMIQUE
One autumn morning in 1881 I was much disturbed, even anxious. Carvalho,
the director of the Opera-Comique, had entrusted to me the three acts of
_Phoebe_ by Henri Meilhac. I had read and re-read them, but nothing in
them appealed to me; I clashed with the work which I had to do; I was
nervous and impatient.
With fine bravery I went to see Meilhac. The happy author of so many
delightful works, of so many successes, was in his library, among his
rare books in marvellous bindings, a fortune piled up in his rooms on
the mezzanine floor in which he lived at 30 Rue Drouot.
I can still see him writing on a small round table beside a large table
of the purest Louis XIV style. He had hardly seen me than he smiled his
good smile, as if pleased, in the belief that I brought news of our
_Phoebe_.
"Is it finished?" he asked.
I retorted _illico_ to this greeting, in a less assured tone:
"Yes, it is finished; we will never speak of it again."
A lion in his cage could not have been more abashed. My perplexity was
extreme; I saw a void, nothingness, about me, when the title of a work
struck me as a revelation.
"_Manon!_" I cried, pointing to one of Meilhac's books.
"_Manon Lescaut_, do you mean _Manon Lescaut_?"
"No, _Manon_, _Manon_ short, _Manon_, it is _Manon!_"
Meilhac had separated from Dudovic Halevy a little while before and had
associated himself with Philippe Gille, that fine, delightful mind, a
tender-hearted and charming man.
"Come to lunch with me to-morrow at Vachette's," said Meilhac, "and I
will tell you what I have done...."
It is easy to imagine whether in keeping this engagement I had more
curiosity in my heart or appetite in my stomach. I went to Vachette's
and there to my inexpressible and delightful surprise I found beneath my
napkin--the first two acts of _Manon_. The other three acts followed
within a few days.
The idea of writing this work had haunted me for a long time. Now the
dream was realized.
Although I was much excited by the rehearsals of _Herodiade_ and greatly
upset by my frequent trips to Brussels, I was already at work on _Manon_
in the summer of 1881.
Meilhac went to live that summer in the Pavillion Henri IV at
Saint-Germain. I used to surprise him there about five o'clock in the
afternoon, when I knew the day's work would be done. Then, as we walked,
we worked out new arrangements in the words of the opera. Here we
decided on the Seminaire act, and, to bring off a greater contrast at
the end of it, I demanded the act of Transylvania.
How pleased I was in this collaboration, in that work in which we
exchanged ideas with never a clash, in the mutual desire of reaching
perfection if possible.
Philippe Gille shared in this useful collaboration from time to time,
and his presence was dear to me.
What tender, pleasing memories I have of this time at Saint-Germain,
with its magnificent terrace, and the luxuriant foliage of its
beautiful forest. My work was well along when I had to return to
Brussels at the beginning of the summer of 1882. During my different
sojourns at Brussels I made a delightful friend in Frederix, who showed
rare mastery of the pen in his dramatic and lyric criticism in the
columns of the _Independance belge_. He occupied a prominent position in
journalism in his own country and was highly appreciated as well by the
French press.
He was a man of great worth, endowed with a charming character. His
expressive, spirituel, open countenance rather reminded me of the oldest
of the Coquelins. He was among the first of those dear good friends I
have known whose eyes have closed in the long sleep, alas! and who are
no more either for me or for those who loved them.
Our Salome, Martha Duvivier, had continued to sing the role in
_Herodiade_ throughout the new season, and had installed herself for the
summer in a country house near Brussels. My friend Frederix carried me
off there one day and, as I had the manuscript of the first acts of
_Manon_ with me, I risked an intimate reading before him and our
beautiful interpreter. The impression I took away with me was an
encouragement to keep on with the work.
The reason I returned to Belgium at this time was that I had been
invited to go to Holland under conditions which were certainly amusing.
A Dutch gentleman, a great lover of music, with phlegm more apparent
than real, as is often the case with those Rembrandt's country sends us,
made me the most singular visit, as unexpected as it well could be. He
had learned that I was working on the romance of the Abbe Prevost, and
he offered to install my penates at the Hague, in the very room in which
the Abbe had lived. I accepted the offer, and I went and shut myself
up--this was during the summer of 1882--in the room which the author of
_Les Memories d'un homme de qualite_ had occupied. His bed, a great
cradle, shaped like a gondola, was still there.
The days slipped by at the Hague in dreaming and strolling over the
dunes of Schleveningin or in the woods around the royal residence. There
I made delightfully exquisite little friends of the deer who brought me
the fresh breath of their damp muzzles.
It was now the spring of 1883. I had returned to Paris and, as the work
was finished, an appointment was made at M. Carvalho's. I found there
our director, Mme. Miolan Carvalho, Meilhac, and Philippe Gille. _Manon_
was read from nine in the evening until midnight. My friends appeared to
be delighted.
Mme. Carvalho embraced me joyfully, and kept repeating,
"Would that I were twenty years younger!"
I consoled the great artiste as best I could. I wanted her name on the
score and I dedicated it to her.
We had to find a heroine and many names were suggested. The male roles
were taken by Talazac, Taskin and Cobalet--a superb cast. But no choice
could be made for Manon. Many had talent, it was true, and even great
fame, but I did not feel that a single artist answered for the part as I
wanted it and could play the perfidious darling Manon with all the heart
I had put into her.
However, I found a young artist, Mme. Vaillant Couturier, who had such
attractive vocal qualities that I trusted her with a copy of several
passages of the score. I made her work at them at my publisher's. She
was indeed my first Manon.
They were playing at this time at Les Nouveautes one of Charles Lecocq's
great successes. My great friend, Marquis de la Valette, a Parisian of
the Parisians, dragged me there one evening. Mlle. Vaillant--later Mme.
Couturier--the charming artiste of whom I have spoken, played the
leading part adorably. She interested me greatly; to my eyes she greatly
resembled a young flower girl on the Boulevard Capucines. I had never
spoken to this delightful young girl (_proh pudor_) but her looks
obsessed me and her memory accompanied me constantly; she was exactly
the Manon I had had in my mind's eye during my work.
I was carried away by the captivating artiste of Les Nouveautes, and I
asked to speak to the friendly director of the theater, a free and open
man, and an incomparable artist.
"_Illustrious master_" he began, "what good wind brings you? You are at
home here, as you know!"
"I came to ask you to let me have Mlle. Vaillant for a new opera."
"Dear man, what you want is impossible; I need Mlle. Vaillant. I can't
let you have her."
"Do you mean it?"
"Absolutely, but I think that if you would write a work for my theater,
I would let you have this artiste. Is it a bargain, _bibi_?"
Matters stayed there with only vague promises on both sides.
While this dialogue was going on, I noticed that the excellent Marquis
de La Valette was much occupied with a pretty gray hat covered with
roses passing back and forth in the foyer.
All at once I saw the pretty hat coming towards me.
"So a debutant no longer recognizes a debutante?"
"Heilbronn!" I exclaimed.
"Herself!"
Heilbronn recalled the dedication written on the first work I had done
and in which she had made her first appearance on the stage.
"Do you still sing?"
"No, I am rich, but nevertheless---- Shall I tell you?--I miss the
stage. It haunts me. Oh, if I could only find a good part!"
"I have one in _Manon_."
"_Manon Lescaut_?"
"No, _Manon_. That is all."
"May I hear the music?"
"When you like."
"This evening?"
"Impossible, it is nearly midnight."
"What? I can't wait till morning. I feel that there is something in it.
Go and get the score. You will find me in my apartment (the artiste
lived in the Champs Elysees) with the piano open and the lights lit."
I did as she said.
I went home and got the score. Half-past four had struck when I sang the
final bars of Manon's death.
During my rendering Heilbronn was moved to tears. I heard her sigh
through her sobs, "It is my life ... that is my life."
This time, as ever has been the case, the sequel showed that I was right
to wait, to take time in choosing an artist who would have to live my
work.
The day after he heard _Manon_, Carvalho signed the contract.
The following year, after more than eighty consecutive performances, I
learned of Marie Heilbronn's death!...
I preferred to stop the performances rather than to see it sung by
another. Some time afterwards the Opera-Comique went up in flames.
_Manon_ was not given again for ten years. Dear unique Sybil Sanderson
took up the work at the Opera-Comique and she played in the
two-hundredth performance.
A glory was reserved for me on the five hundredth performance. _Manon_
was sung by Marguerite Carre. A few months ago this captivating,
exquisite artist was applauded on the evening of the 740th performance.
In passing I want to pay tribute to the beautiful artistes who have
taken the part. I will mention Mlles. Mary Garden, Geraldine Farrar,
Lina Cavalieri, Mme. Brejean-Silver, Mlles. Courtenay, Genevieve Vix,
Mmes. Edvina and Nicot-Vauchelet, and still other dear artistes. They
will pardon me if all their names do not come to my grateful pen at the
moment.
The Italian Theatre (Maurel's Season), as I have already said, put on
_Herodiade_ two weeks after the first performance of _Manon_, with the
following admirable artists: Fides Devries, Jean de Reszke, Victor
Maurel, Edouard de Reszke.
As I write these lines in 1911, _Herodiade_ continues its career at the
Theatre-Lyrique de la Gaite (under the management of the Isola brothers)
who put on the work in 1903 with the famous Emma Calve. The day after
the first performance of _Herodiade_ in Paris I received these lines
from our illustrious master, Gounod:
Sunday, February 3, '84.
My dear Friend:
The noise of your success with _Herodiade_ reaches me; but I lack
that of the work itself, and I shall go to hear it as soon as
possible, probably Saturday. Again new congratulations, and
Good luck to you, CH. GOUNOD.
Meanwhile _Marie Magdeleine_ went on its career in the great festivals
abroad. I recall the following letter which Bizet wrote me some years
before with deep pride.
Our school has not produced anything like it. You give me the
fever, brigand.
You are a proud musician, I'll wager.
My wife has just put _Marie Magdeleine_ under lock and key!
That detail is eloquent, is it not?
The devil! You've become singularly disturbing.
As to that, believe me that no one is more sincere in his
admiration and in his affection than your,
BIZET.
That is the testimony of my excellent comrade and affectionate friend,
George Bizet--a friend and comrade who would have remained steadfast had
not blind destiny torn him from us in the full bloom of his prodigious
and marvelous talent.
Still in the dawn of life when he passed from this world, he could have
compassed everything in the art to which he devoted himself with so much
love.