From a photograph.
]
The extraordinary effort made by Auber in the composition of “La
Muette,” in less time than would have been needed by a copyist to
transcribe this voluminous score, completely deprived him of his mental
powers for the moment, and he was obliged to take absolute rest for some
time. His ideas were exhausted, and he would have found it impossible
even to find a melody for a simple song. He thought that the fountain of
musical invention was dried up within him, and for all time. But his
faculties, thank God, were not extinguished, and there yet remained in
the composer’s brain living fountains from whence were to gush forth his
best, his most characteristic works, and those which are most strongly
impressed with the author’s style and personality.
In many respects, Auber was not an irreproachable director of the
Conservatoire, where he remained, however, a number of years. He was all
his life too fashionable a man, too kind, too weak to direct with the
necessary firmness a school so difficult to govern as the Ecole
Nationale de Musique et de Déclamation of Paris. He attempted no
improvements in the arrangement of the studies, and while all public
institutions throughout France were being modified in accordance with
progressive ideas, the Conservatoire alone remained stationary and, as
it were, fossilized in its ancient condition. Ultimately the
Administration des Beaux-Arts became alarmed at this state of things,
and on the 2d of April, 1870, the following order was issued:—
“In the name of the Emperor, the Minister of Fine Arts issues the
following order:
“Art. 1. A committee is hereby formed the mission of which shall be to
revise the present government of the Conservatoire, and to consider and
propose such modifications as may be made, especially in regard to the
teaching in this institution, so that the studies pursued there may be
made as profitable as possible.
“Art. 2. This committee, which shall sit under the presidency of the
Minister of Fine Arts, shall be constituted as follows:
“MM. Auber, Emile Augier, Edmond About, Azévédo, Chaix d’Estange, de
Charnacé, Oscar Comettant, Félicien David, Camille Doucet, Théophile
Gautier, Gevaert, Charles Gounod, Guiroult, Jouvin, Ernest Legouvé,
Nogent-Saint-Laurens, Emile Perrin, Prince Poniatowski, H. Prévost,
Reber, Ernest Reyer, de Saint-Georges, de Saint-Valry, Albéric Second,
Edouard Thierry, Ambroise Thomas, J. Weiss.”
The sittings of this committee were of a most interesting character.
Auber, then eighty-eight years of age, was never absent from any of
them; but he remained silent all the while. It seemed as though he were
there in the presence of judges rather than before a committee in which
he had full and complete liberty of discussion. Of all the propositions
made by the committee only one was ever put into execution, by Ambroise
Thomas, who succeeded Auber as director of the Ecole Nationale de
Musique et de Déclamation of Paris. This proposition was that Sol-fa
classes should be established especially for the pupils of both sexes in
the singing classes.
Auber was Maître-de-chapelle to the Emperor Napoleon III. He was a Grand
Officer of the Legion of Honor, and he received a number of foreign
decorations. He never married.
It was Auber’s misfortune to see the siege of Paris and the terrible
deeds of the Commune. At that time he had two horses to which he was
very much attached, named Figaro and Almaviva. When famine began to
stalk through the land he was called upon to give up the first-named
animal to be used as food. The other met with perhaps a still more cruel
fate, for it was taken from the elegant coupé of the composer to draw a
cart at St. Denis. In the midst of the successive misfortunes which
befell his beloved city of Paris, Auber became deeply downcast. His
strength rapidly ebbed away, and after a terrible struggle lasting
several days, during which he fought desperately with death—for he still
clung tenaciously to life,—he breathed his last, cared for in turn by
Ambroise Thomas, Marmontel and Weckerlin, on the 12th of May, 1871. When
public order had been re-established, he was accorded a solemn public
funeral on the 15th of July following.
Auber’s labors were devoted to one long series of sparkling comic operas
due to the happy partnership of Scribe and Auber, a partnership in which
Mélesville was often associated. The first comic opera produced by the
triple partnership was “Leicester,” the subject of which was taken by
the authors from Sir Walter Scott’s romance, “Kenilworth.” Although,
from the character of the dramatis personæ, “Leicester,” was somewhat
remarkable compared with the plays usually produced at the Théâtre
Feydeau, it was nevertheless well received by the public.
After this came “La Neige,” a pretty score which, however, the critics
(who in those days were generally literary men not at all competent to
judge of musical matters) declared bore some resemblance to the work of
Rossini. But at that time what musician was there who could entirely
withstand Rossini’s style, which had conquered the universe, not even
excepting Germany?
“La Neige” was succeeded by “Le Maçon,” in which there occur at least
two or three morceaux that are marvels of wit and grace.
[Illustration:
Fac-simile autograph musical manuscript by Daniel François Auber.
]
[Illustration:
Fac-simile autograph letters from Auber to Alfred de Beauchesne,
Secretary of the Conservatoire.
]
“Le Maçon” was followed by “Le Timide,” “Fiorella,” “La Muette de
Portici,” a grand opera in five acts, produced by Scribe and Casimir
Delavigne, which was represented at the Académie de Musique on the 19th
of February, 1828. It had considerable success the first night and the
succeeding representations only strengthened the good opinion formed of
it. After more than sixty years and in spite of certain features which
are now looked upon as old-fashioned, as well as an orchestration which
would better suit present ideas were it more powerful and contrapuntal,
at least in certain parts of the score, this admirable work would still
be quite presentable anywhere. The impartial public, which does not
yield to the influence of schools of music and does not hide its
impressions, would still warmly applaud in this rich treasury of sweet
melody the chorus, “O Dieu puissant”; the barcarolle, “Amis, la matinée
est belle”; the duet by the two men, “Amour Sacré de la Patrie”; the
market scene; the beautiful and impressive prayer; the delicious air of
“Sleep”; the air sung by the woman in the fourth act, “Arbitre d’une
Vie,” which has become classical; and that other barcarolle, “Voyez du
haut de ce rivage”; the tarantella, etc.
The original and singularly bold idea of making a dumb girl the heroine
of a grand opera was received at the outset with censure on the part of
the critics; and it must be admitted as a general principle that the
critics were perfectly right. Slowly, however, the public became
accustomed to this creation, and it has now for a long time been
admitted that the rôle of Fenella is a mark of genius. The whole of this
part played in dumb show seems to be voiced, as it were, by the
orchestra, which renders in a wonderfully happy manner and with
extraordinary dexterity the sentiments felt by the sister of the fisher
Massaniello.
As to the overture, it has earned public approval in every part of the
world where an orchestra can be found capable of executing it. It is
brilliant, dramatic, pathetic, and the _motif_ of the triumphal march
which constitutes the _allegro_ is superb and truly irresistible in its
power to move the audience.
Space would fail us were we to stop, even for a moment, to speak of each
one of his works, and we cannot do more than name them. Yet their names
alone will sing in the reader’s memory those varied songs, so
_spirituel_, so well suited to the works which they designate that they
have nearly all continued to hold the musical stage of Europe ever since
they were first produced. They are as follows: “La Fiancée,” “Fra
Diavolo,” “Le Dieu et la Bayadère,” “Gustave III.,” “Lestocq,” “Le
Cheval de Bronze,” “Actéon,” “Les Chaperons Blancs,” “L’Ambassadrice,”
“Le Domino Noir,” “Le Lac des Fées,” “Zanetta,” “Les Diamants de la
Couronne,” “Le Duc d’Aloune,” “La Part du Diable,” “La Sirène,” “La
Barcarolle,” “Haydée,” “L’Enfant Prodigue,” “Zerline, ou la Corbeille
d’Oranges,” “Marco Spada,” “Jenny Bell,” “Manon Lescaut,” “La
Circassienne,” “La Fiancée du Roi de Garbes,” “Le Premier Jour de
Bonheur,” “Rêve d’Amour.” This last-named comic opera was the last of
the long series of the dramatic works of our author. It was represented
on the 20th of December, 1869, and truth compels us to state that it was
received with some reserve. Quite the reverse was the fate of “Le
Premier Jour de Bonheur,” which obtained a full measure of success. In
this opera occurs an exquisite melody that speedily became popular, “Les
Djinns.”
Rossini has described Auber’s talent in a remarkably pithy manner.
“Auber,” said he, “may have produced light music, but he produced it
like a great musician.” So much meaning could not be condensed into
fewer words. Even so, Auber, in spite of the slight appearance of his
work, was one of the most learned musicians of his time. But he took as
much pains to conceal his knowledge as others do to exhibit theirs. His
great desire was, evidently in obedience to the nature of the man, to be
always clear, melodious, lovable, _spirituel_, attractive in every way;
never wearisome. In this he was perhaps wrong. Possessing as he did the
science of counterpoint and a wonderful dexterity in instrumentation, he
would have done well to make himself, from time to time at least, more
obscure, mystical, symbolical and enigmatical, for in so doing he would
have risen in the esteem of the pedants who affect to like only that
kind of music which is wearisome and to understand only that which is
incomprehensible. Such obscurity on his part would have thrown into
still higher relief the inspirations born of his truly creative
faculties, I mean his songs and his _motifs_. Whenever he desired to do
so, Auber well knew how to rise to the lofty and pathetic, and he could
produce what is called grand high class music. Let such as doubt this
read the fourth act of “Manon Lescaut,” and they will be convinced that
there was in the mind and heart of Auber something more than dance
music. We have there grand and beautiful music, and I find it difficult
to mention any orchestration richer or more impressive and more
beautifully conceived than that which occurs in “La Circassienne.” We
have only to read the many _solfeggios_ that he wrote during the long
years when he was director of the Conservatoire for competition among
the pupils learning the sol-fa system, and we shall find in these minor
masterpieces the sure hand of an eminent and profound harmonist.
[Illustration: Oscar Comettant]
[Illustration: