Life of Jakob Meyerbeer

This opera was first produced at the Académie, Paris, on February 29, 1836. The libretto, by Scribe and Deschamp, deals with the variances between the Huguenots and Catholics, with a love-story interwoven.

The year is 1752. Raoul de Nangis is the leader of the Huguenots, while Count de St. Bris heads the Catholics. Marguerite de Valois desires to reconcile these factions, and to that end devises a scheme to bring about a marriage between Raoul and Valentine, the daughter of St. Bris. This she would have accomplished but for the fact that Raoul remembers seeing his betrothed in the house of the Count de Nevers under circumstances which would wound his sense of honour did he further thrust his attentions on Valentine. Therefore he determines to have no more to do with the matter.

But Raoul’s hatred of St. Bris is aggravated, and, seeing Valentine led to her marriage ceremony by Nevers, he challenges St. Bris to combat. St Bris, in his turn, plans the murder of Raoul, which is prevented by Valentine, who all the time has never wavered in her love for Raoul, but has been forced into this marriage. When Raoul learns this, his grief knows no bounds. He visits Valentino to bid her a final adieu, but is interrupted by St. Bris, Nevers, and their followers. Valentine succeeds in secreting Raoul, and from his place of hiding he overhears the notorious plot of Catherine de Medicis for the massacre of the Huguenots on the Eve of St. Bartholomew. Raoul is afterwards entreated by Valentine not to risk his life on the occasion. But honour prevails, and he departs to warn his comrades and prepare for the impeding danger.

Berlioz called "The Huguenots" a musical encyclopaedia with material enough for twenty ordinary operas. It has been likened to a cathedral; it has been called "an evangel of religion and love." It has been said to be "the most vivid chapter of French history ever penned." Wagner declaimed against its blatant theatricalism. Schumann declared that the music was fit only for a circus!

Quite recently the opera has had a distinguished defender in M. Saint-Saëns, the composer of "Samson and Delilah." It has been revived at the new Théâtre Lyrique in Paris in 1909, and certain superior critics had their fling at it. Whereupon its cause was warmly championed by M. Arthur Pougin, one of the leaders of musical criticism in Paris. It was to signify his cordial approval of M. Pougin’s championing of Meyerbeer that M. Saint-Saëns wrote. In his letter, addressed to M. Pougin, he says: "You have very properly praised the three last Acts, full of nobility in style, powerfully and pathetically inspired. It is certain that with the opening of the third Act the work suggests the rising flight of a bird. But is this bird so contemptible as you seem to think whilst it is still strutting on the ground, pluming itself and flapping its wings?" In this last sentence the reference is to Marcel’s Huguenot war-song and to Queen Marquerite’s aria.

Saint-Saëns goes on to show that these are masterpieces of their kind. Such songs are no longer fashionable in opera; but, to pass sober judgment on a work of art, it must be examined in the light of the epoch in which it was created, and not solely in that of our own day. Of the scene in which Marguerite first appears, Meyerbeer made a "Court of Love." From the first notes of the introduction -- initiated by the violencellos, taken up by the flute -- we are enveloped in an atmosphere of feminine charm; and when the delightful phrase, "O beau pays de la Touraine," unfolds itself, accompanied by the harps, one is transported into a world of amorous elegance unknown elsewhere.

After all this, one feels courageous enough to venture the statement that a Meyerbeer redivivus would easily adapt himself to the circumstances and conventions of to-day, and quickly eclipse his modern professional detractors. Meyerberr’s genius for opera is clearly evident not only in "The Huguenots," but in "Le Prophète," "L’Africaine," and "Dinorah"; which are its inferiors only because they illustrate subjects much less fascinating intrinsically, neither steeped in the glamour of Marquerite de Valois’ brilliant Court, nor revolving round so impressive an historical event as the massacre of St. Bartholomew.Jakob Meyerbeer, like Mendelssohn, the son of a Jewish banker, was born in Berlin in 1791. The family name was Beer, but a friend called Meyer left the composer a fortune on condition that he adopted his name; so the vulgar "Beer" was converted into the more euphonious Meyerbeer. Mendelssohn’s master, Zelter, the friend of Goethe, gave him some lessons, and later, as already indicated, he was taken in hand by the Abbé Vogler. It was as a pianist that he gained his first distinctions; but he took to opera and achieved one or two triumphs in Italy in direct rivalry with Rossini. Weber was disgusted with his friend’s concession to the prevailing taste. "It makes my heart bleed," he said, "to see a German composer of creative power stoop to become a mere imitator in order to curry favour with the crowd." Meyerbeer declared that he could not help himself. Living in Italy, he was "involuntarily drawn into the delicious maze of tones and bewitched in a magic garden from which I could not escape." By-and-by he found no difficulty in escaping and creating a magic garden for himself.

In 1827 he married his cousin Mina Mosson. Then he settled in Paris, where he formed friendly relations with Cherubini, Auber, Halévy, Boieldieu, and others. He was fabulously rich (for a composer), but he lived like a miser, and worked as hard as if he depended entirely on his compositions. His mother used to say apologetically that he was "not obliged to compose." He wrote himself: "I am above all an artist, and it gives me satisfaction to think that I might have supported myself with my music from the time I was seven. I have no desire to stand aloof from my associates and play the rich amateur." Meyerbeer made large sums by his operas, and was certainly the wealthiest of all German composers. Schumann hit out at him because he wrote, not for art, but to please the great unthinking public. But the public are worth pleasing after all, and Meyerbeer had his reward. "The Huguenots" and "Robert le Diable" had both a long run of popularity. "Le Prophète" enjoyed less favour; but the two efforts in opera comique, "L’Etoile du Nord" and "Dinorah," were great favourites with a former generation. "Dinorah" would probably have held its place if the libretto (a vaguely-presented Breton legend of buried treasure) had not been so foolish. Meyerbeer’s music would redeem many a poorer drama from insignificance, but the text must always rob much of it of its proper effect.

Wagner sneered at Meyerbeer as "a Jew banker to whom it occurred to compose music," but he had enthusiastic praise for the long duet in the fourth Act of "The Huguenots." Wagner’s treatment of Meyerbeer is, in fact, an episode one would rather not remember. When Wagner was in poverty in Paris, Meyerbeer exerted himself to obtain remunerative employment for him, and to make him known to influential people. Subsequently, when Wagner had "The Flying Dutchman" rejected by Leipzig and Munich, he sent it to Meyerbeer, who got it accepted at Berlin. At Berlin, too, Meyerbeer produced "Rienzi," after long and careful preparation. For all this Wagner rewarded him with the most inhuman ingratitude -- an ingratitude which can only be explained by his rabid and ridiculous hatred of the Jews.

Meyerbeer died in Paris in 1863. He had a morbid dread of being buried alive. After his death a paper was found giving directions that small bells should be fixed to his hands and feet, and that his body should be carefully watched for four days, after which it was to be sent to Berlin for interment.

The Life of Jakob Meyerbeer