Jules Emile Frédéric Massenet was born on the 12th of May, 1842, at
Montaud, in the department of the Loire, and was the eleventh child of
his parents. His musical talent developed at an early age. When only
eleven years old he was sufficiently acquainted with the theoretical
elements of the art to take his place in François Bazin’s harmony class
in the Conservatoire. It is by no means uncommon for a professor to
mistake the capacity of his pupils. Unfortunately Bazin failed to
foresee the splendid future reserved for his young pupil Massenet: on
the contrary, he believed him to be destitute of all musical talent and
requested that he might be dismissed from his class. The poor little
musician felt so deeply humiliated by this insult that he was almost
inclined to renounce music forever. It was five years before he
reappeared at the Conservatoire, but luckily, at the end of that long
term, he returned to study under the learned Henri Reber in the harmony
class.
One day, shortly after Massenet joined this class, Reber addressed him
thus in presence of his fellow-pupils: “Monsieur, I urge you, for your
own welfare, to quit my class and go into a higher one, a class where
fugue and composition are taught. You understand as much of harmony, so
called, as I can teach you, and you will waste your time if you remain
with me. Follow my advice, for if I am a true prophet, you will make
your mark.”
Thus it was that, dismissed from Bazin’s harmony class as a dunce,
Massenet was advised to leave Reber’s class because he learned too
rapidly. The youngster followed the advice given by the composer of “Le
Père Gaillard” and “La Nuit de Noël,” and studied fugue and composition
with Ambroise Thomas, the composer of “Mignon” and “Hamlet,” who had
been appointed director of the school after the death of Auber.
In the composition class young Massenet so distinguished himself by his
ardor and application to study, that he won, and ever after retained,
the friendship of Ambroise Thomas. At each lesson he submitted to his
master, in addition to fugues and exercises in counterpoint,
instrumental and vocal works of various kinds, each bearing witness to
his lively imagination and to his instinct to produce something new. Of
course all these efforts of the future composer of “Manon” were not
irreproachable, and sometimes his comrades rallied him on what they
called his fits of musical intoxication. “Let him sow his wild oats,”
said Ambroise Thomas, “and you will find that when he has sobered down
and become more reflective he will achieve something. He is a genius.”
The time was close at hand when Massenet was to fulfil this flattering
prophecy. In the very same year, 1863, he obtained the first prize in
counterpoint and fugue at the Conservatoire and the Grand Prize for
musical composition (Grand Prix de Rome) at the Institut de France. He
was then, we believe, already married, although physically he did not
look more than fifteen years of age.
As he had an annual allowance accorded him by the State, he set out for
the Eternal City and made a tour in Italy, proceeding thence to Germany
to seek inspiration from the masters of symphony. The winner of the
Grand Prix de Rome is expected during his sojourn abroad, to send at
least one work to the Institute as a proof that he has turned his time
to good account and has made due progress. Whether or not young Massenet
left his light-heartedness behind him when he crossed the French
frontier we cannot say; but the composition he sent from Rome was a
Requiem. Massenet wrote a large work for solo voices, chorus and
orchestra, entitled “Pompéia,” which in form as well as in
instrumentation showed the influence of Berlioz. This indicated an
inquiring and meditative mind in the young composer, who was thus
feeling his way through the boldest and most modern school of music.
Massenet sent a second envoy from Rome, which was his first orchestral
suite. With this suite is associated an event of great importance in the
musical career of the composer. Massenet tells the story himself.
The composer had just returned to France, after passing in Italy and
Germany the regulation period accorded the laureates of the Institute.
While walking in the street, he met Pasdeloup, the founder and director
of the celebrated “Popular Concerts.” Pasdeloup was one of the best men
in the world, but he had the habit of treating young composers in a
brusque and patronizing manner. He had only seen Massenet once, and that
was during the performance of the cantata for which he was awarded the
Grand Prize. As has already been stated, Massenet always looked much
younger than he really was, and from his twentieth to his twenty-fourth
year he had the face and air of a boy of sixteen. Pasdeloup accosted him
with a frown, as though he had something disagreeable to tell him, and
speaking in an offensively familiar and condescending manner, said:—
“Ah, so you have returned to France. What have you been doing during
your absence?”
“I have been writing music, M. Pasdeloup.”
“That is all very well; but it is not sufficient to write music; you
must write good music. Is your music really good?”
“Sir, it is not for me to pass judgment upon it.”
“You have written, I believe, an orchestral suite?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, but everybody writes orchestral suites. Is yours a good one? Are
you satisfied with it yourself?”
“Well, Monsieur Pasdeloup, I feel obliged to admit that it pleases me
when I play it on the piano, but I have not yet heard it performed by an
orchestra.”
“Of course it pleases you. But how much music is there that pleases its
composer, and yet is not worth a button. Can I see your manuscript?”
“You do me too much honor, Monsieur Pasdeloup. I will send my score to
you this very evening.”
“Good. I will tell you what I think of it and whether it pleases me as
much as it pleases you. Let me say that I think very little of the music
of young men who win the Prix de Rome. They only know how to imitate the
faults of the masters they study. However, we shall see.”
And Pasdeloup quitted Massenet with an air of utter dissatisfaction.
The young composer hastened home and told his family of the interview
and of the faint hope he cherished that his suite might possibly be
performed at the famous Popular Concerts. He then rolled up his score,
took it to Pasdeloup’s residence, and left it with the concierge. Ten
days later Massenet received, by post, a gift which filled him with
equal joy and surprise. It was a ticket admitting him to a rehearsal. He
was invited to the Cirque d’Hiver, where the Popular Concerts were
given, to hear a rehearsal of his orchestral suite.
Next day, full of excitement, he set out for the rehearsal. On arriving
at the door, however, he had not sufficient courage to enter, so
overcome was he by his emotions. “Perhaps,” thought he, “the orchestral
effect may not be what I intended,” and he felt that he had not strength
to brave the severe criticisms of Pasdeloup and the jeers of the members
of the orchestra.
Massenet returned home without having dared to listen to the rehearsal
of his work and wholly discontented with himself. He called himself a
coward and a pretender, and as he passed along the boulevard, his eye
mechanically seeking the announcement of the performances at the
theatres and concerts, he was suddenly astounded to see his own name on
the programme of the Pasdeloup Concert to be given on the following
Sunday. They were really going to play his suite! He ran rather than
walked home to announce the glorious news.
“They play—my suite—Sunday—Popular Concert!—Oh! how my heart beats!”
And the great composer, as the memory of the beginning of his musical
career came back to him, bowed his head on my breast and burst into
tears. I wept with him.
“Ah!” said he, “I was happier then than I am to-day. Anticipation is
better than the reality.”
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