That Amazon of princesses, granddaughter of Henry IV., and cousin of
Louis XIV., the Duchesse de Montpensier (better known, perhaps, by the
name of "La Grande Mademoiselle"), once asked the Chevalier de Guise to
bring her from Italy "a young musician to enliven my house." The
chevalier did not forget the great lady's whim, and noticing, one day
in Florence, a bright-eyed boy of twelve singing to the music of his
guitar, said to him, "Will you come with me to Paris?" The lad, a poor
miller's son, without hesitation answered, "Yes;" and thus the young
Lulli got his start in the world.
He soon gained experience of the uncertainty which attended the favour
of royalty, for, after a few days, "La Grande Mademoiselle" grew tired
of her new toy, and sent him to the kitchen, where he became a cook's
boy. Here, in the intervals of his work, surrounded by pots and pans,
and eatables of all kinds, he often played upon his violin, or sang to
his guitar. He is credited with having set some verses to music, at
this time; among them the popular "Au Clair de la Lune," which the
numberless readers of "Trilby" will remember was sung by La Svengali,
on that famous night at the Cirque des Bashibazoucks. Some couplets
reflecting on his mistress were sent to the young musician, and,
composing a pretty air to the words, he sang them to the frequenters of
the kitchen. This disrespectful act reached the ears of the duchess,
who thereupon expelled Lulli from her house.
[Illustration: The Young Lulli. From painting by H. de la Charlerie.]
His talent for the violin had, however, attracted the attention of some
people of influence, and he was placed under tuition, and finally made
one of the court musicians. At nineteen years old, he played for the
first time before the king, who was much pleased, and appointed him
Inspector of the Violins, and organised for him a band of young
musicians, who were called _Les Petits Violons_, to distinguish them
from the _Grande Bande des Violons du Roi_. Lulli was then chosen to
compose dance-music for the ballets performed at court, and afterward
the entire musical portion of these entertainments was entrusted to
him. He became also a collaborator of Molière, furnishing the music
for many of the great dramatist's plays, and even acting in some of
them.
His greatest fame was won in the composition of operas, for which the
poet Quinault wrote the words, and he is justly considered to be the
founder of French opera. Among Lulli's operas are "Armide," "Isis,"
"Atys," "Alceste," "Psyche," "Proserpine," and "Bellerophon." The
composer did not reach old age, but died in 1687, about fifty-four
years old, wealthy and honoured, and a great favourite of Louis XIV.,
who had made him "Superintendent of the King's Music," and treated him
with much liberality. His death was caused, one might say, by an
illness of the king. When Louis recovered from this sickness, Lulli
was commanded to write a Te Deum in grateful celebration of the event.
At the first performance, the composer himself conducted, and while
beating time with his baton, accidentally struck it against his foot,
causing a bruise, which developed into an abscess of such a malignant
character that the entire foot, and then the leg were affected.
Amputation was advised as the only hope of saving the patient's life,
but Lulli hesitated in giving his consent, and it was soon too late.
From all accounts, the closing scene of Lulli's life was not marked
with that awe which generally attends a death-bed. He desired
absolution, but his confessor would not absolve him, except on the
condition that he would commit to flames the score of his latest opera.
After many excuses, Lulli at length acquiesced, and pointing to a
drawer, where was the rough score of "Achille et Polixene," it was
burned, the absolution granted, and the priest went home satisfied.
Lulli grew better, and one of the young princes visited him.
"What, Baptiste," said he, "have you burnt your opera? You were a fool
for giving such credit to a gloomy confessor, and burning such good
music."
"Hush! hush!" whispered Lulli, "I knew well what I was about,--I have
another copy of it!"
But this was not all. Unhappily, this joke was followed by a relapse,
and the prospect of certain death caused him such dreadful remorse for
his deceit to the priest, that he confessed all, and submitted to be
laid on a heap of ashes, with a cord around his neck, which was the
penance recommended him! He was then placed in bed, and expired
singing, "_Il faut mourir, pecheur, il faut mourir!_" to one of his own
airs.
Many anecdotes are told about Lulli, of which we will repeat one or two.
So fatal was the influence of success and its attendant fortune upon
Lulli's career, that he entirely laid aside his violin, and refused to
have such a thing in his house, nor could any one prevail upon him to
play upon one. Marshal de Gramont, however, was his match. He
determined not to be entirely deprived of his favourite treat, and
devised the ingenious plan of making one of his servants, who could
bring more noise than music out of the instrument, play upon the violin
in Lulli's presence; whereupon the ex-violinist would rush to the
unfortunate tormentor, snatch the fiddle from him, and seek to allay
his disturbed equanimity (which, much to the delight of those within
hearing, always took him a long time to accomplish) by playing himself.
At the first performance of "Armide," at Versailles, some delay
prevented the raising of the curtain at the appointed hour. The king,
thereupon, sent an officer of his guard, who said to Lulli, "The king
is waiting," and was answered with the words, "The king is master here,
and nobody has the right to prevent him waiting as long as he likes!"
Hippolyte de la Charlerie, who painted Lulli as a boy in the kitchen of
"La Grande Mademoiselle," was a Belgian artist, who died young, in
1869, the same year that he sent this picture to the Paris Salon.