Meyerbeer's operas are so intricate in their elements, and travel so far
out of the beaten track of precedent and rule, that it is difficult to
clearly describe their characteristics in a few words. His original
flow of melody could not have been very rich, for none of his tunes have
become household words, and his excessive use of that element of opera
which has nothing to do with music, as in the case of Wagner, can have
but one explanation. It is in the treatment of the orchestra that he
has added most largely to the genuine treasures of music. His command of
color in tone-painting and power of dramatic suggestion have rarely been
equaled, and never surpassed. His genius for musical rhythm is the most
marked element in his power. This is specially noticeable in his dance
music, which is very bold, brilliant, and voluptuous. The vivacity
and grace of the ballets in his operas save more than one act which
otherwise would be insufferably heavy and tedious. It is not too much
to say that the most spontaneous side of his creative fancy is found in
these affluent, vigorous, and stirring measures.
Meyerbeer appears always to have been uncertain of himself and his work.
There was little of that masterly prevision of effect in his mind which
is one of the attributes of the higher imagination. His operas, though
most elaborately constructed, were often entirely modified and changed
in rehearsal, and some of the finest scenes both in the dramatic and
musical sense were the outcome of some happy accidental suggestion at
the very last moment. "Robert," "Les Huguenots," "Le Prophète," in the
forms we have them, are quite different from those in which they
were first cast. These operas have therefore been called "the most
magnificent patchwork in the history of art," though this is a harsh
phrasing of the fact, which somewhat outrides justice. Certain it
is, however, that Meyerbeer was largely indebted to the chapter of
accidents.
The testimony of Dr. Véron, who was manager of the Grand Opera during
the most of the composer's brilliant career, is of great interest, as
illustrating this trait of Meyerbeer's composition. He tells us in his
"Mémoires," before alluded to, that "Robert" was made and remade
before its final production. The ghastly but effective color of the
resuscitation scene in the graveyard of the ruined convent was a
change wrought by a stage manager, who was disgusted with the chorus of
simpering women in the original. This led Meyerbeer to compose the
weird ballet music which is such a characteristic feature of "Robert le
Diable." So, too, we are told on the same authority, the fourth act of
"Les Huguenots," which is the most powerful single act in Meyerbeer's
operas, owes its present shape to Nourrit, the most intellectual and
creative tenor singer of whom we have record. It was originally
designed that the St. Bartholomew massacre should be organized by _Queen
Marguerite_, but Nourrit pointed out that the interest centering in the
heroine, Valentine, as an involuntary and horrified witness, would be
impaired by the predominance of another female character. So the plot
was largely reconstructed, and fresh music written. Another still more
striking attraction was the addition of the great duet with which
the act now closes--a duet which critics have cited as an evidence
of unequaled power, coming as it does at the very heels of such an
astounding chorus as "The Blessing of the Swords." Nourrit felt that
the parting of the two lovers at such a time and place demanded such an
outburst and confession as would be wrung from them by the agony of
the situation. Meyerbeer acted on the suggestion with such felicity and
force as to make it the crowning beauty of the work. Similar changes
are understood to have been made in "Le Prophète" by advice of Nourrit,
whose poetical insight seems to have been unerring. It was left to
Duprez, Nourrit's successor, however, to be the first exponent of _John
of Leyden_.
These instances suffice to show how uncertain and unequal was the grasp
of Meyerbeer's genius, and to explain in part why he was so prone to
gorgeous effects, aside from that tendency of the Israelitish nature
which delights in show and glitter. We see something in it akin to the
trick of the rhetorician, who seeks to hide poverty of thought under
glittering phrases. Yet Meyerbeer rose to occasions with a force that
was something gigantic. Once his work was clearly defined in a mind not
powerfully creative, he expressed it in music with such vigor, energy,
and warmth of color as can not be easily surpassed. With this composer
there was but little spontaneous flow of musical thought, clothing
itself in forms of unconscious and perfect beauty, as in the case of
Mozart, Beethoven, Cherubini, Rossini, and others who could be cited.
The constitution of his mind demanded some external power to bring forth
the gush of musical energy.
The operas of Meyerbeer may be best described as highly artistic and
finished mosaic work, containing much that is precious with much that is
false. There are parts of all his operas which can not be surpassed
for beauty of music, dramatic energy, and fascination of effect. In
addition, the strength and richness of his orchestration, which contains
original strokes not found in other composers, give him a lasting claim
on the admiration of the lovers of music. No other composer has united
so many glaring defects with such splendid power; and were it not that
Meyerbeer strained his ingenuity to tax the resources of the singer
in every possible way, not even the mechanical difficulty of producing
these operas in a fashion commensurate with their plan would prevent
their taking a high place among popular operas.