I.

Few great names in art have been the occasion of such diversity of

judgment as Giacomo Meyerbeer, whose works fill so large a place in

French music. By one school of critics he is lauded beyond all measure

as one whose scientific skill and gorgeous orchestration are only

equaled by his richness of melody and genius for dramatic and scenic

effects; "by far the greatest composer of recent years;" by another

class we hear him stigmatized as "the very caricature of the universal

Mozart... the Cosmopolitan Jew, who hawks his wares among all nations

indifferently, and does his best to please customers of every kind." The

truth lies between the two, as is wont to be the case in such extremes

of opinion. Meyerbeer's remarkable talent so nearly approaches genius

as to make the distinction a difficult one. He can not be numbered among

those great creative artists who by force of individuality have molded

musical epochs and left an undying imprint on their own and succeeding

ages. On the other hand, his remarkable power of combining the resources

of the lyric stage in a grand mosaic of all that can charm the eye and

car, of wedding rich and gorgeous music with splendid spectacle, gives

him a unique place in music; for, unlike Wagner, whose ideas of stage

necessities are no less exacting, Meyerbeer aims at no reforms in lyric

music, but only to develop the old forms to their highest degree of

effect, under conditions that shall gratify the general artistic sense.

To accomplish this, he spares no means either in or out of music. Though

a German, there is but little of the Teutonic _genre_ in the music of

Weber's fellow pupil. When at the outset he wrote for Italy, he showed

but little of that easy Assomption of the genius of Italian art which

many other foreign composers have attained. It was not till he formed

his celebrated art partnership with Scribe, the greatest of librettists,

and succeeded in opening the gates of the Grand Opera of Paris with all

its resources, more vast than exist anywhere else, that Meyerbeer found

his true vocation, the production of elaborate dramas in music of the

eclectic school. He inaugurated no clearly defined tendencies in his

art; he distinctively belongs to no national school of music; but his

long and important connection with the French lyric stage classifies him

unmistakably with the composers of this nation.

The subject of this sketch belonged to a family of marked ability. Jacob

Beer was a rich Jewish banker of Berlin, highly honored for his robust

intellect and scholarly culture as well as his wealth. William, one of

the sons, became a distinguished astronomer; another, Michael, achieved

distinction as a dramatic poet; while the eldest, Jacob, was the

composer, who gained his renown under the Italianized name of Giacomo

Meyerbeer, a part of the surname having been adopted from that of the

rich banker Meyer, who left the musician a great fortune.

Meyerbeer was born at Berlin, September 5, 1794, and was a musical

prodigy from his earliest years. When only four years old he would

repeat on the piano the airs he heard from the hand-organs, composing

his own accompaniment. At five he took lessons of Lanska, a pupil of

Clementi, and at six he made his appearance at a concert. Three years

afterward the critics spoke of him as one of the best pianists in

Berlin. He studied successively under the greatest masters of the time,

Clemcnti, Bernhard Anselm Weber, and Abbé Vogler. While in the latter's

school at Darmstadt, he had for fellow pupils Carl von Weber, Winter,

and Gansbachcr. Every morning the abbé called together his pupils after

mass, gave them some theoretical instruction, then assigned each one a

theme for composition. There was great emulation and friendship between

Meyerbeer and Weber, which afterward cooled, however, owing to Weber's

disgust at Meyerbeer's lavish catering to an extravagant taste. Weber's

severe and bitter criticisms were not forgiven by the Franco-German

composer.

Meyerbeer's first work was the oratorio "Gott und die Natur," which was

performed before the Grand Duke with such success as to gain for him

the appointment of court composer. Meyerbeer's concerts at Darmstadt

and Berlin were brilliant exhibitions; and Moscheles, no mean judge, has

told us that if Meyerbeer had devoted himself to the piano, no performer

in Europe could have surpassed him. By advice of Salieri, whom Meyerbeer

met in Vienna, he proceeded to Italy to study the cultivation of

the voice; for he seems in early life to have clearly recognized how

necessary it is for the operatic composer to understand this, though,

in after-years, he treated the voice as ruthlessly in many of his most

important arias and scenas as he would a brass instrument. He arrived in

Vienna just as the Rossini madness was at its height, and his own blood

was fired to compose operas _à la Rossini_ for the Italian theatres.

So he proceeded with prodigious industry to turn out operas. In 1818 he

wrote "Romilda e Costanza" for Padua; in 1819, "Semiramide" for Turin;

in 1820, "Emma di Resburgo" for Venice; in 1822, "Margherita d'Anjou"

for Milan; and in 1823, "L'Esule di Granata," also for Milan. These

works of the composer's 'prentice hand met with the usual fate of the

production of the thousand and one musicians who pour forth operas in

unremitting flow for the Italian theatres; but they were excellent drill

for the future author of "Robert le Diable" and "Les Huguenots." On

returning to Germany Meyerbeer was very sarcastically criticised on the

one side as a fugitive from the ranks of German music, on the other as

an imitator of Rossini.

Meyerbeer returned to Venice, and in 1824 brought out "Il Crociato

in Egitto" in that city, an opera which made the tour of Europe, and

established a reputation for the author as the coming rival of Rossini,

no one suspecting from what Meyerbeer had then accomplished that he

was about to strike boldly out in a new direction. "II Crociato" was

produced in Paris in 1825, and the same year in London. In the latter

city, Veluti, the last of the male sopranists, was one of the principal

singers in the opera; and it was said by some of the ill-natured critics

that curiosity to see and hear this singer of a peculiar kind, of whom

it was said, "Non vir sed Veluti," had as much to do with the success

of the opera as its merits. Lord Mount Edgcumbe, however, an excellent

critic, wrote of it "as quite of the new school, but not copied from

its founder, Rossini; original, odd, flighty, and it might be termed

fantastic, but at times beautiful. Here and there most delightful

melodies and harmonies occurred, but it was unequal, solos being as rare

as in all the modern operas." This was the last of Meyerbeer's operas

written in the Italian style. In 1827 the composer married, and for

several years lived a quiet, secluded life. The loss of his first two

children so saddened him as to concentrate his attention for a while

on church music. During this period he composed only a "Stabat," a

"Miserere," a "Te Deum," and eight of Klopstock's songs. But he was

preparing for that new departure on which his reputation as a great

composer now rests, and which called forth such bitter condemnation

on the one hand, such thunders of eulogy on the other. His old fellow

pupil, Weber, wrote of him in after-years: "He prostituted his profound,

admirable, and serious German talent for the applause of the crowd which

he ought to have despised." And Mendelssohn wrote to his father in words

of still more angry disgust: "When in 'Robert le Diable' nuns appear one

after the other and endeavor to seduce the hero, till at length the lady

abbess succeeds; when the hero, aided by a magic branch, gains access

to the sleeping apartment of his lady, and throws her down, forming

a tableau which is applauded here, and will perhaps be applauded in

Germany; and when, after that, she implores for mercy in an aria; when,

in another opera, a girl undresses herself, singing all the while that

she will be married to-morrow, it may be effective, but I find no

music in it. For it is vulgar, and if such is the taste of the day, and

therefore necessary, I prefer writing sacred music."

Great Italian and French Composers · 第 67 / 83 题