THE HISTORY OF AN OPÉRA-COMIQUE
Young musicians often complain, and not without reason, of the
difficulties of their careers. It may, perhaps, be useful to remind them
that their elders have not always had beds of roses, and that too often
they have had to breast both wind and sea after spending their best
years in port, unable to make a start. These obstacles frequently are
the result of the worst sort of malignity, when it is for the best
interest of everyone--both of the theatres which rebuff them, and the
public which ignores them--that they be permitted to set out under full
sail.
In 1864 one of the most brilliant of the reviews had the following
comments to make on this subject:
Our real duty--and it is a true kindness--is not to encourage them
(beginners) but to discourage them. In art a vocation is
everything, and a vocation needs no one, for God aids. What use is
it to encourage them and their efforts when the public obstinately
refuses to pay any attention to them? If an act is ordered from one
of them, it fails to go. Two or three years later the same thing is
tried again with the same result. No theatre, even if it were four
times as heavily subsidized as the Théâtre-Lyrique, could continue
to exist on such resources. So the result is that they turn to
accredited talent and call on such men from outside as Gounod,
Felicien David and Victor Massé. The younger composers at once
shout treason and scandal. Then, they select masterpieces by Mozart
and Weber and there are the same outcries and recriminations. In
the final analysis where are these young composers of genius? Who
are they and what are their names? Let them go to the orchestra and
hear _Le Nozze di Figaro_, _Obéron_, _Freischutz_ and _Orphée_ ...
we are doing something for them by placing such models before them.
The young composers who were thus politely invited to be seated
included, among others, Bizet, Delibes, Massenet, and the writer of
these lines. Massenet and I would have been satisfied with writing a
ballet for the Opéra. He proposed the _Rat Catcher_ from an old German
tale, while I proposed _Une nuit de Cléopâtra_ on the text of Théophile
Gautier. They refused us the honor, and, when they consented to order a
ballet from Delibes, they did not dare to trust him with the whole work.
They let him do only one act and the other was given to a Hungarian
composer. As the experiment succeeded, they allowed Delibes to write,
without assistance, his marvellous _Coppélia_. But Delibes had the
legitimate ambition of writing a grand opera. He never reached so far.
[Illustration: The Paris Opéra]
Bizet and I were great friends and we told each other all our troubles.
"You're less unfortunate than I am," he used to tell me. "You can do
something besides things for the stage. I can't. That's my only
resource."
When Bizet put on the delightful _Pêcheurs de Perles_--he was helped by
powerful influences--there was a general outcry and an outbreak of
abuse. The Devil himself straight from Hell would not have received a
worse reception. Later on, as we know, _Carmen_ was received in the
same way.
I was, indeed, able to do something beside work for the stage, and it
was just that which closed the stage to me. I was a writer of
symphonies, an organist and a pianist, so how could I be capable of
writing an opera! The qualities which go to make a pianist were in a
particularly bad light in the greenroom. Bizet played the piano
admirably, but he never dared to play in public for fear of making his
position worse.
I suggested to Carvalho that I write a _Macbeth_ for Madame Viardot.
Naturally enough he preferred to put on Verdi's _Macbeth_. It was an
utter failure and cost him thirty thousand francs.
They tried to interest a certain princess, a patron of the arts, in my
behalf. "What," she replied, "isn't he satisfied with his position? He
plays the organ at the Madeleine and the piano at my house. Isn't that
enough for him?"
But that wasn't enough for me, and to overcome the obstacles, I caused a
scandal. At the age of twenty-eight I competed for the _Prix de Rome_!
They did not give it to me on the ground that I didn't need it, but the
day after the award, Auber, who was very fond of me, asked Carvalho for
a libretto for me. Carvalho gave me _Le Timbre d'Argent_, which he
didn't know what to do with as several musicians had refused to touch
it. There were good reasons for this, for, despite an excellent
foundation for the music, the libretto had serious faults. I demanded
that Barbier and Carré, the authors, should make important changes,
which they did at once. Then, I retired to the heights of Louveciennes
and in two months wrote the score of the five acts which the work had at
first.
I had to wait two years before Carvalho would consent to hear the music.
Finally, worn out by my importunities, they decided to get rid of me, so
Carvalho invited me to dine with him and to bring my score. After dinner
I went to the piano. Carvalho was on one side and Madame Carvalho on the
other. Both were very pleasant and charming, but the real meaning of
this friendliness did not escape me.
They had no doubts about what awaited them. Both really loved music and
little by little they fell under the spell. Serious attention succeeded
the false friendliness. At the end they were enthusiastic. Carvalho
declared that he would have the study of the work begun as soon as
possible; it was a masterpiece; it would have a great success, but to
assure this success, Madame Carvalho must sing the principal part.
Now the principal part in _Le Timbre d'Argent_ is that of a dancer and
the singer's part is greatly subordinate. To remedy this they decided to
develop the part. Barbier invented a pretty situation to bring in the
passage _Bonheur est chose legère_, but that wasn't enough. Barbier and
Carré racked their brains without finding any solution of the
difficulty, for on the stage as elsewhere there are problems that can't
be solved.
Between times they tried to find a dancer of the first rank. Finally,
they found one who had recently left the Opéra, although still at the
height of her beauty and talent. And they continued to seek a way to
make the part of Hélène worthy of Madame Carvalho.
The famous director had one mania. He wanted to collaborate in every
work he staged. Even a work hallowed by time and success had to bear
his mark; much greater were his reasons for interpolating in a new work.
He would announce brusquely that the period or the country in which the
action of the work took place must be changed. He tormented us for a
long time to make the dancer into a singer on his wife's account. Later,
he wanted to introduce a second dancer. With the exception of the
prologue and epilogue the action of the piece takes place in a dream,
and he took upon himself the invention of the most bizarre combinations.
He even proposed to me one day to introduce wild animals. Another time
he wanted to cut out all the music with the exception of the choruses
and the dancer's part, and have the rest played by a dramatic company.
Later, as they were rehearsing Hamlet at the Opéra and it was rumored
that Mlle. Nilsson was going to play a water scene, he wanted Madame
Carvalho to go to the bottom of a pool to find the fatal bell.
Foolishness of this kind took up two years.
Finally, we gave up the idea of Mme. Carvalho's coöperation. The part of
Hélène was given to beautiful Mlle. Schroeder and the rehearsals began.
They were interrupted by the failure of the Théâtre-Lyrique.
Shortly afterwards Perrin asked for _Le Timbre d'Argent_ for the Opéra.
The adaptation of the work for the large stage at the Opéra necessitated
important modifications. The whole of the dialogue had to be set to
music and the authors went to work on it. Perrin gave us Madame Carvalho
for Hélène and Faure for Spiridion, but he wanted to burlesque the part
for the tenor and give it to Mlle. Wertheimber. He wanted to engage her
and had no other part for her. This was impossible. After several
discussions Perrin yielded to the obstinate refusals of the authors, but
I saw clearly from his attitude that he would never play our work.
About that time du Locle took over the management of the Opéra-Comique.
He saw that Perrin, who was his uncle, had decided not to stage _Le
Timbre d'Argent_ and asked me for it.
This meant another metamorphosis for the work and new and considerable
work for the musician. And this work was by no means easy. Until this
time Barbier and Carré had been as close friends as Orestes and Pylades,
but now they had a falling out. What one proposed, the other
systematically refused. One lived in Paris; the other in the country. I
went from Paris to the country and from the country to Paris trying to
get these warring brothers to agree. This going to and fro lasted all
summer, and then the temporary enemies came to an understanding and
became as friendly as ever.
We seemed to be nearly at the end of our troubles. Du Locle had found a
wonderful dancer in Italy on whom we depended, but the dancer turned out
not to be one at all. She was a _mime_, and did not dance.
As there was no time to look for another dancer that season du Locle, to
keep me patient, had me write with Louis Gallet _La Princesse Jaune_,
with which I made my debut on the stage. I was thirty-five! This
harmless little work was received with the fiercest hostility. "It is
impossible to tell," wrote Jouvin, a much feared critic of the time, "in
what key or in what time the overture is written." And to show me how
utterly wrong I was, he told me that the public was "a compound of
angles and shadows." His prose was certainly more obscure than my music.
Finally, a real dancer was engaged in Italy. It seemed as though nothing
more could prevent the appearance of the unfortunate _Timbre_. "I can't
believe it," I said. "Some catastrophe will put us off again."
War came!
When that frightful crisis was at an end, the dancer was re-engaged. The
parts were read to the artists, and the next day Amédé Achard threw up
his rôle, declaring that it belonged to grand opera and was beyond the
powers of an opéra-comique tenor. It is well known that he ended his
career at the Opéra.
Another tenor had to be found, but tenors are rare birds and we were
unable to get one. To use the dancer he had engaged du Locle had Gallet
and Guiraud improvise a short act, _Le Kobold_, which met with great
success. The dancer was exquisite. Then du Locle lost interest in _Le
Timbre d'Argent_ and then came the failure of the Opéra-Comique.
During all these tribulations I was preparing _Samson_, although I
could find no one who even wanted to hear me speak of it. They all
thought that I must be mad to attempt a Biblical subject. I gave a
hearing of the second act at my house, but no one understood it at all.
Without the aid of Liszt, who did not know a note of it, but who engaged
me to finish it and put it on at Weimar, _Samson_. would never have seen
the light. Afterwards it was refused in succession by Halanzier,
Vaucorbeil, and Ritt and Gailhard, who decided to take it only after
they had heard it sung by that admirable singer Rosine Bloch.
But to return to _Le Timbre d'Argent_. I was again on the street with my
score under my arm. About that time Vizentini revived the
Théâtre-Lyrique. His first play was _Paul et Virginie_, a wonderful
success, and he was preparing for the close of the season another work
which he liked. They were kindly disposed to me at the Ministry of Fine
Arts and they interested themselves in my misfortunes. So they gave the
Théâtre-Lyrique a small subsidy on condition that they play my work. I
came to the theatre as one who has meddled and I quickly recognized the
discomforts of my position. First, there was a search for a singer;
then, for a tenor, and they tried several without success. I found a
tenor who, according to all reports, was of the first rank, but, after
several days of negotiation, the matter was dropped. I learned later
from the artist that the manager intended to engage him for only four
performances, evidently planning that the work should be played only
four times.
The choice finally fell on Blum. He had a fine voice, and was a perfect
singer but no actor. Indeed he said he didn't want to be an actor; his
ideal was to appear in white gloves. Each day brought new bickerings.
They made cuts despite my wishes; they left me at the mercy of the
insubordination and rudeness of the stage manager and the ballet master,
who would not listen to my most modest suggestions. I had to pay the
cost of extra musicians in the wings myself. Some stage settings which I
wanted for the prologue were declared impossible--I have seen them since
in the _Tales of Hoffman_.
Furthermore, the orchestra was very ordinary. There had to be numerous
rehearsals which they did not refuse me, but they took advantage of them
to spread the report that my music was unplayable. A young journalist
who is still alive (I will not name him) wrote two advance notices which
were intended to pave the way for the failure of my work.
At the last moment the director saw that he had been on the wrong tack
and that he might have a success. As they had played fairyland in the
theatre in the Square des-Arts-et-Métiers, he had at hand all the needed
material to give me a luxurious stage-setting without great expense.
Mlle. Caroline Salla was given the part of Hélène. With her beauty and
magnificent voice she was certainly remarkable. But the passages which
had been written for the light high soprano of Madame Carvalho were
poorly adapted for a dramatic soprano. They concluded, therefore, that I
didn't know how to write vocal music.
In spite of everything the work was markedly successful, the natural
result of a splendid performance in which two stars--Melchissedech and
Mlle. Adeline Théodore, at present teacher of dancing at the
Opéra--shone.
Poor Vizentini! His opinion of me has changed greatly since that time.
We were made to understand and love each other, so he has become, with
years, one of my best and most devoted friends. He first produced my
ballet _Javotte_ at the Grand-Théâtre in Lyons, which the Monnaie in
Brussels had ordered and then refused. He had dreams of directing the
Opéra-Comique and installing _Le Timbre d'Argent_ there. Fate willed
otherwise.
We have seen how the young French school was encouraged under the
Empire. The situation has improved and the old state of affairs has
never returned. But we find more than the analogy between the old point
of view and the one that was revealed not long ago when the French
musicians complained that they were more or less sacrificed in favor of
their foreign contemporaries. At bottom it is the same spirit in a
modified form.
To resume. As everyone knows, the way to become a blacksmith is by
working at a forge. Sitting in the shade does not give the experience
which develops talent. We should never have known the great days of the
Italian theatre, if Rossini, Donizetti, Bellini, and Verdi had had to
undergo our régime. If Mozart had had to wait until he was forty to
produce his first opera, we should never have had _Don Giovanni_ or _Le
Nozze di Figaro_, for Mozart died at thirty-five.
The policy imposed on Bizet and Delibes certainly deprived us of several
works which would now be among the glories of the repertoire at the
Opéra and the Opéra-Comique. That is an irreparable misfortune; one
which we cannot sufficiently deplore.