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The transformation of the _genre_ of the French grand opera had begun
with Auber's _La Muette de Portici_, performed in 1828. _La Muette_ was
the first work conceived in the new forms and in the vast proportions of
the school which was to succeed the school of Gluck and his followers.
The scenic development, the pursuit of new and piquant harmonies, the
importance given to the orchestra; all this, joined to a more varied
and less uniform melodic expression, had produced a deep impression on
the public, and dethroned with a single blow the ancient opera which
had reigned for more than half a century. Rossini had come later with
his _William Tell_, in which the splendor of the style, the richness
of inspiration and the fullness of dramatic expression, all carried to
their highest degree, had marked an advance over the remarkable work of
the French composer, without, however, surpassing the latter's elegance
and originality. With _Robert le Diable_, Meyerbeer, in his turn, struck
a note entirely personal, and in this work the passionate vigor of
accent, the power of orchestral combinations, the particular character
and relief given to each of the personages, indicated a musician of a
new and profoundly original genius; a genius more complex than that
of his predecessors, seeking for effects in the detail as well as in
the _ensemble_, but arriving like them, and by different means, at an
intensity of expression which was difficult to surpass.
It goes without saying that the score of _Robert le Diable_ contained
suggestions of the forms adopted by the author in the course of his
Italian career. This is especially noticeable in the first act and the
beginning of the second, and it would not have been an easy matter to
avoid it. But the general style of the work has an incontestable grandeur,
the declamation, noble and powerful, assumes the character of the French
lyric declamation, the contrasts of situations are striking and managed
with a remarkable intelligence, and the color of the music, its fantastic
character, so well in accord with the subject, are of such an intensity as
to produce on the hearer an ineffaceable impression. It is in the third
act especially, divided into two distinct parts, that the genius of the
composer is given full scope, and attains its most complete magnificence.
The comic scene between Bertram and Raimbaut, that in which voices from
below call to Bertram, the dramatic scene between Bertram and Alice, are
all of a great beauty, and the tableau following, that of the evocation of
nuns in the depth of their cloister, with the episode of the seduction of
Robert, is of a wonderful poetry and grace, and contrasts in a striking
manner with that which precedes. In the fourth act it is the human passion
which speaks its most pathetic language from the grand duet of Robert
and Isabelle to the moment when the powerful finale comes to prove to us
that Gluck's genius and his transports are not unknown to the genius of
Meyerbeer. As to the fifth act, it is of an admirable dramatic feeling.
The novelty of the forms and the hitherto unusual development of the
score of _Robert_ at first surprised the public, which was cautious about
passing judgment. But surprise soon gave way to admiration, admiration
grew to enthusiasm, and triumph, a triumph perhaps without precedent on
the French stage, welcomed a work so abounding in beauties of a very high
order. It is well known how rapidly the whole world ratified the judgment
of the Parisian public.
Meyerbeer has been criticised for his Italian souvenirs in his opera _les
Huguenots_, particularly that pretty air of Marguerite's in the second
act, charming in itself and from a strict musical point of view, but
which is evidently an aside, a concession made to virtuosity, and which
breaks the _ensemble_ and the unity of an otherwise strong, noble and
severe work. This fault aside, however, what a masterpiece is this score
of the _Huguenots_, in which the interest steadily increases, and which,
from the first scene to the last, never ceases to rise higher and higher!
Admiration knows not how to choose nor where to pause, so constant and
varied are the demands made upon it, whether by the marvellous tableaux,
like that of the arrival of Raoul at Marguerite's house, the picturesque
curfew scene in the third act, the duel scene which follows, the powerful
episode of the benediction of the poignards in the fourth, followed
by the splendid duet of Raoul and Valentine, finally the scene of the
massacre of the Huguenots in the fifth,--or by the delineation of the
characters, traced with a surprising vigor and sureness of hand, such as
those of Marcel, of Saint-Bris and of Nevers, which make an ineffaceable
impression on the memory. And what color, what style, what grandeur from
the beginning to the end of this work! Whether it be the dramatic element
which dominates, as in the duel scene or that of the conjuration, whether
it be the pathetic and passionate element, as in the _duo_ of the lovers,
whether it be the popular and picturesque element, as in the entire third
act, the superiority of the artist is always the same, always equally
complete, with no sign of weakness nor faltering. In this opera he recalls
with vividness and truth a world which has disappeared, and his music is
marvellously in accord with the period which he undertakes to depict,
the personages which he presents to us, and even the costumes of those
personages. As to the inspiration, always warm, noble and vigorous, it is
of an inexpressible richness and power.
[Illustration: [Music]