A well-known musical critic sums up his judgment of Halévy in these
words: "If in France a contemporary of Louis XIV., an admirer of Racine,
could return to us, and, full of the remembrance of his earthly career
under that renowned monarch, he should wish to find the nobly pathetic,
the elevated inspiration, the majestic arrangements of the olden times
upon a modern stage, we would not take him to the Theatre Français, but
to the Opera on the day in which one of Halévy's works was given."
Unlike Méhul and Spontini, with whom in point of style and method Halévy
must be associated, he was not in any direct sense a disciple of Gluck,
but inherited the influence of the latter through his great successor
Cherubini, of whom Halévy was the favorite pupil and the intimate
friend. Fromental Halévy, a scion of the Hebrew race, which has
furnished so many geniuses to the art world, left a deep impress on
his times, not simply by his genius and musical knowledge, which was
profound, varied, and accurate, but by the elevation and nobility which
lifted his mark up to a higher level than that which we accord to
mere musical gifts, be they ever so rich and fertile. The motive that
inspired his life is suggested in his devout saying that music is an
art that God has given us, in which the voices of all nations may unite
their prayers in one harmonious rhythm.
Halévy was a native of Paris, born May 27, 1799. He entered the
Conservatory at the age of eleven years, where he soon attracted the
particular attention of Cherubini. When he was twenty the Institute
awarded him the grand prize for the composition of a cantata; and he
also received a government pension which enabled him to dwell at Rome
for two years, assiduously cultivating his talents in composition.
Halévy returned to Paris, but it was not till 1827 that he succeeded
in having an opera produced. This portion of his life was full of
disappointment and chilled ambitions; for, in spite of the warm
friendship of Cherubini, who did everything to advance his interests, he
seemed to make but slow progress in popular estimation, though a number
of operas were produced.
Halévy's full recognition, however, was found in the great work of "La
Juive," produced February 23, 1835, with lavish magnificence. It is said
that the managers of the Opera expended 150,000 francs in putting it
on the stage. This opera, which surpasses all his others in passion,
strength, and dignity of treatment, was interpreted by the greatest
singers in Europe, and the public reception at once assured the composer
that his place in music was fixed. Many envious critics, however,
declaimed against him, asserting that success was not the legitimate
desert of the opera, but of its magnificent presentation. Halévy
answered his detractors by giving the world a delightful comic opera,
"L'Éclair," which at once testified to the genuineness of his musical
inspiration and the versatility of his powers, and was received by the
public with even more pleasure than "La Juive."
Halévy's next brilliant stroke (three unsuccessful works in the mean
while having been written) was "La Reine de Chypre," produced in 1841.
A somewhat singular fact occurred during the performance of this opera.
One of the singers, every time he came to the passage,
Ce mortel qu'on remarque
Tient-il Plus que nous de la Parque
Le fil?
was in the habit of fixing his eyes on a certain proscenium box wherein
were wont to sit certain notabilities in politics and finance. As
several of these died during the first run of the work, superstitious
people thought the box was bewitched, and no one cared to occupy it. Two
fine works, "Charles VI." and "Le Val d'Andorre," succeeded at intervals
of a few years; and in 1849 the noble music to Æschylus's "Prometheus
Bound" was written with an idea of reproducing the supposed effects of
the enharmonic style of the Greeks.
Halévy's opera of "The Tempest," written for London, and produced in
1850, rivaled the success of "La Juive." Balfe led the orchestra, and
its popularity caused the basso Lablache to write the following epigram:
The "Tempest" of Halévy
Differs from other tempests.
These rain hail,
That rains gold.
The Academy of Fine Arts elected the composer secretary in 1854, and
in the exercise of his duties, which involved considerable literary
composition, Halévy showed the same elegance of style and good taste
which marked his musical writings. He did not, however, neglect his own
proper work, and a succession of operas, which were cordially received,
proved how unimpaired and vigorous his intellectual faculties remained.
The composer's death occurred at Nice, whither he had gone on account of
failing strength, March 17, 1862. His last moments were cheered by
the attentions of his family and the consolations of philosophy and
literature, which he dearly loved to discuss with his friends. His
ruling passion displayed itself shortly before his end in characteristic
fashion. Trying in vain to reach a book on the table, he said: "Can I do
nothing now in time?" On the morning of his death, wishing to be turned
on his bed, he said to his daughter, "Lay me down like a gamut," at
each movement repeating with a soft smile, "Do, re, mi," etc., until the
change was made. These were his last words.
The celebrated French critic Sainte-Beuve pays a charming tribute to
Halévy, whom he knew and loved well:
"Halévy had a natural talent for writing, which he cultivated and
perfected by study, by a taste for reading which he always
gratified in the intervals of labor, in his study, in public
conveyances--everywhere, in fine, when he had a minute to spare. He
could isolate himself completely in the midst of the various noises of
his family, or the conversation of the drawing-room if he had no part in
it. He wrote music, poetry, and prose, and he read with imperturbable
attention while people around him talked.
"He possessed the instinct of languages, was familiar with German,
Italian, English, and Latin, knew something of Hebrew and Greek. He was
conversant with etymology, and had a perfect passion for dictionaries.
It was often difficult for him to find a word; for on opening the
dictionary somewhere near the word for which he was looking, if his eye
chanced to fall on some other, no matter what, he stopped to read that,
then another and another, until he sometimes forgot the word he sought.
It is singular that this estimable man, so fully occupied, should at
times have nourished some secret sadness. Whatever the hidden wound
might be, none, not even his most intimate friends, knew what it was.
He never made any complaint. Halévy's nature was rich, open and
communicative. He was well organized, accessible to the sweets of
sociability and family joys. In fine, he had, as one may say, too many
strings to his bow to be very unhappy for any length of time. To define
him practically, I would say he was a bee that had not lodged himself
completely in his hive, but was seeking to make honey elsewhere too."