JULES EMILE FRÉDÉRIC MASSENET
Jules Emile Frédéric Massenet was born on the 12th of May, 1842, at Montaud, in the department of the Loire, and was the eleventh child of his parents. His musical talent developed at an early age. When only eleven years old he was sufficiently acquainted with the theoretical elements of the art to take his place in François Bazin’s harmony class in the Conservatoire. It is by no means uncommon for a professor to mistake the capacity of his pupils. Unfortunately Bazin failed to foresee the splendid future reserved for his young pupil Massenet: on the contrary, he believed him to be destitute of all musical talent and requested that he might be dismissed from his class. The poor little musician felt so deeply humiliated by this insult that he was almost inclined to renounce music forever. It was five years before he reappeared at the Conservatoire, but luckily, at the end of that long term, he returned to study under the learned Henri Reber in the harmony class.
One day, shortly after Massenet joined this class, Reber addressed him thus in presence of his fellow-pupils: “Monsieur, I urge you, for your own welfare, to quit my class and go into a higher one, a class where fugue and composition are taught. You understand as much of harmony, so called, as I can teach you, and you will waste your time if you remain with me. Follow my advice, for if I am a true prophet, you will make your mark.”
Thus it was that, dismissed from Bazin’s harmony class as a dunce, Massenet was advised to leave Reber’s class because he learned too rapidly. The youngster followed the advice given by the composer of “Le Père Gaillard” and “La Nuit de Noël,” and studied fugue and composition with Ambroise Thomas, the composer of “Mignon” and “Hamlet,” who had been appointed director of the school after the death of Auber.
In the composition class young Massenet so distinguished himself by his ardor and application to study, that he won, and ever after retained, the friendship of Ambroise Thomas. At each lesson he submitted to his master, in addition to fugues and exercises in counterpoint, instrumental and vocal works of various kinds, each bearing witness to his lively imagination and to his instinct to produce something new. Of course all these efforts of the future composer of “Manon” were not irreproachable, and sometimes his comrades rallied him on what they called his fits of musical intoxication. “Let him sow his wild oats,” said Ambroise Thomas, “and you will find that when he has sobered down and become more reflective he will achieve something. He is a genius.”
The time was close at hand when Massenet was to fulfil this flattering prophecy. In the very same year, 1863, he obtained the first prize in counterpoint and fugue at the Conservatoire and the Grand Prize for musical composition (Grand Prix de Rome) at the Institut de France. He was then, we believe, already married, although physically he did not look more than fifteen years of age.
As he had an annual allowance accorded him by the State, he set out for the Eternal City and made a tour in Italy, proceeding thence to Germany to seek inspiration from the masters of symphony. The winner of the Grand Prix de Rome is expected during his sojourn abroad, to send at least one work to the Institute as a proof that he has turned his time to good account and has made due progress. Whether or not young Massenet left his light-heartedness behind him when he crossed the French frontier we cannot say; but the composition he sent from Rome was a Requiem. Massenet wrote a large work for solo voices, chorus and orchestra, entitled “Pompéia,” which in form as well as in instrumentation showed the influence of Berlioz. This indicated an inquiring and meditative mind in the young composer, who was thus feeling his way through the boldest and most modern school of music.
Massenet sent a second envoy from Rome, which was his first orchestral suite. With this suite is associated an event of great importance in the musical career of the composer. Massenet tells the story himself.
The composer had just returned to France, after passing in Italy and Germany the regulation period accorded the laureates of the Institute. While walking in the street, he met Pasdeloup, the founder and director of the celebrated “Popular Concerts.” Pasdeloup was one of the best men in the world, but he had the habit of treating young composers in a brusque and patronizing manner. He had only seen Massenet once, and that was during the performance of the cantata for which he was awarded the Grand Prize. As has already been stated, Massenet always looked much younger than he really was, and from his twentieth to his twenty-fourth year he had the face and air of a boy of sixteen. Pasdeloup accosted him with a frown, as though he had something disagreeable to tell him, and speaking in an offensively familiar and condescending manner, said:—
“Ah, so you have returned to France. What have you been doing during your absence?”
“I have been writing music, M. Pasdeloup.”
“That is all very well; but it is not sufficient to write music; you must write good music. Is your music really good?”
“Sir, it is not for me to pass judgment upon it.”
“You have written, I believe, an orchestral suite?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, but everybody writes orchestral suites. Is yours a good one? Are you satisfied with it yourself?”
“Well, Monsieur Pasdeloup, I feel obliged to admit that it pleases me when I play it on the piano, but I have not yet heard it performed by an orchestra.”
“Of course it pleases you. But how much music is there that pleases its composer, and yet is not worth a button. Can I see your manuscript?”
“You do me too much honor, Monsieur Pasdeloup. I will send my score to you this very evening.”
“Good. I will tell you what I think of it and whether it pleases me as much as it pleases you. Let me say that I think very little of the music of young men who win the Prix de Rome. They only know how to imitate the faults of the masters they study. However, we shall see.”
And Pasdeloup quitted Massenet with an air of utter dissatisfaction.
The young composer hastened home and told his family of the interview and of the faint hope he cherished that his suite might possibly be performed at the famous Popular Concerts. He then rolled up his score, took it to Pasdeloup’s residence, and left it with the concierge. Ten days later Massenet received, by post, a gift which filled him with equal joy and surprise. It was a ticket admitting him to a rehearsal. He was invited to the Cirque d’Hiver, where the Popular Concerts were given, to hear a rehearsal of his orchestral suite.
Next day, full of excitement, he set out for the rehearsal. On arriving at the door, however, he had not sufficient courage to enter, so overcome was he by his emotions. “Perhaps,” thought he, “the orchestral effect may not be what I intended,” and he felt that he had not strength to brave the severe criticisms of Pasdeloup and the jeers of the members of the orchestra.
Massenet returned home without having dared to listen to the rehearsal of his work and wholly discontented with himself. He called himself a coward and a pretender, and as he passed along the boulevard, his eye mechanically seeking the announcement of the performances at the theatres and concerts, he was suddenly astounded to see his own name on the programme of the Pasdeloup Concert to be given on the following Sunday. They were really going to play his suite! He ran rather than walked home to announce the glorious news.
“They play—my suite—Sunday—Popular Concert!—Oh! how my heart beats!”
And the great composer, as the memory of the beginning of his musical career came back to him, bowed his head on my breast and burst into tears. I wept with him.
“Ah!” said he, “I was happier then than I am to-day. Anticipation is better than the reality.”
MASSENET IN HIS STUDY.
Reproduced from a photograph from life made by Dornac & Co., Paris, 1891.
The opera “Manon” has a curious history which Massenet related to me one day. Everybody knows in what singular circumstances the author of “Manon Lescaut” (Abbé Prévost) took refuge at The Hague. It was in that city that he wrote his “Mémoires d’un Homme de Qualité” to which “Manon Lescaut” seems to belong as a species of postscript or sequel. In a like manner, and in that Dutch town, Massenet, owing to certain circumstances, chanced to write the score of “Manon” the substance of which is taken from the Abbé Prévost’s romance. Wishing to remain apart from the rest of the world, in order to be quite undisturbed, he took lodgings as a boarder under an assumed name at a house in The Hague. To prevent all suspicion as to identity, he did not send for a piano, for, unlike some composers, Massenet does not need a piano to enable him to compose. He thinks out his music, which he hears inwardly, already arranged for the orchestra. Absorbed in his work, the composer labored unceasingly. He never went forth to take necessary exercise until after nightfall, that he might run no risk of being recognized. After his walk, which lasted about an hour, he returned home with coat collar turned up to conceal his face.
He was accustomed to write at a large table littered with music-paper, each sheet bearing thirty staves. When not actually engaged in composing he amused himself by reading the Abbé Prévost’s romance, written by the French author in that same foreign town, possibly even in that same house, more than a century before. And Massenet’s artistic imagination saw in this fact a happy prognostic. “Why,” thought he, “should not my score of ‘Manon’ be as successful as was Prévost’s immortal novel? Grant, O, Sovereign God of Inspiration, that I may cause the sweet and loving Manon to sing, after a lapse of a hundred years, under the same sky, far away from Paris, and in the same happy strain as that in which the most worldly of abbés made her speak!”
The existence of the mysterious foreigner who was always writing music but who never played any instrument, greatly exercised Massenet’s landlord. The inmates of the house were not less mystified than was he. The gossips agreed that this French musician was a choir-master—and a very original one. At last the composer was recognized, and the next day the newspapers informed the public that Massenet had been for some time at The Hague. People flocked to see him, and his apartments were speedily crowded with friends or with persons who came from mere curiosity. Happily, however, the score of “Manon” was completed.
Massenet is one of the most estimable of men, kind and sympathetic to a fault, and possessed of great delicacy and consideration for others. He would enjoy the friendship of all men, were he less talented and consequently less liable to inspire jealousy. Of medium stature, spare but well made and of striking appearance, he has always looked younger than he really was, a happy privilege among the many others enjoyed by this favored son of genius, who is an honor and glory of the present generation of French composers. He is now a member of the Institute of France, a professor of composition at the National Conservatory of Paris and an Officer of the Legion of Honor.
As we close this biographical sketch, the distinguished composer has just given the first performance of his latest opera, “Werther,” at the Grand Theatre of Vienna, where it met with brilliant success. Massenet has been kind enough to bestow on us a page of the work to place in this biography, with a specimen of his handwriting, and we tender him our warmest thanks. By the time these lines meet the eye of the reader, “Werther” will have been put upon the stage at the Opéra Comique, in Paris.
Massenet’s debut in theatrical work dates from the third of April, 1866, when “La Grand’tante,” a pretty little piece full of melody and freshness, was represented at the Opéra Comique. It was he who, on the Emperor’s fête, August 12 of the following year, wrote the official cantata performed at the Opéra.
After this first attempt in theatrical music, and his cantata, Massenet produced various concert works, among others, “Poèmes et Souvenirs” and “Poèmes d’Avril,” the words of which are by Armand Sylvestre; also a bouffe scene entitled “L’Improvisateur.” His second Suite d’Orchestre,—a Suite Hongroise, was played at the Concerts Populaires. For the Société Classique Armingaud he composed “Introductions et Variations,” a quartet for stringed and wind instruments. In 1872 he produced his second dramatic work, “Don César de Bazan,” at the Opéra Comique; but the public did not give it a very cordial reception. It had been written under unfavorable conditions, improvised, as it were, in three weeks. The managers of the theatre proposed terms to the young composer which he was obliged to accept or decline without amendment. Massenet took his revenge for this treatment, however, in the very same year, with the delightful scenic music for the drama, “Les Errynies,” by the Comte de Lisle, which was represented at the Odéon. The next year, 1873, the composer produced one of his most exquisite scores, which shows his warm poetic talent in the most characteristic manner. This was “Marie Madeleine,” a sacred drama in three acts, which has had a world-wide success. So successful was it indeed that Massenet was encouraged to write “Eve,” a mystery in three acts. This latter, so intimately related in character to “Marie Madeleine,” has been given at the concerts of sacred harmony established by Lamoureux. In this, too, the composer’s personality is emphasized by exquisitely delicate and poetic touches. The same may be said of “La Vierge,” a sacred legend in four parts, written for the Opéra concerts and played for the first time in 1880. The “Sleep of the Virgin” in this legend is one of those inspirations which prove beyond all doubt the measure of a composer’s genius.
A year before the production of “La Vierge,” Massenet had given the French National Academy of Music his first great opera, “Le Roi de Lahore,” in five acts, the success of which was not at first evident. The public considered this beautiful music slightly cold, and instrumental rather than vocal. They said the composer had shown himself wanting in melody, and that he had sacrificed too much to his love for scientific combinations, although wild applause greeted a certain number of happily-conceived songs, among others the aria so splendidly rendered by Lassalle and which has always been honored with an encore.
It is only when great works are reproduced after a certain interval of time that we can determine whether they are really worthy a place in the musical repertory. The reproduction at the Opéra of the “Roi de Lahore” was a great success, and it has always been enthusiastically received in the principal theatres of Europe and America.
The Théâtre de la Monnaie, at Brussels, enjoyed the privilege of giving, in 1881, the first performance of Massenet’s second grand opera, “Hérodiade” in three acts and five tableaux. This time success was beyond all doubt, and from the first representation onward, the piece was received with enthusiasm. Whatever M. Massenet may hereafter give to the world, “Hérodiade” will undoubtedly remain one of the finest works that have originated in the fertile brain of this distinguished musician. Throughout the work the divine afflatus is maintained, and melody fills the auditorium. The opera is full of passion and sentiment, at once human and religious, just as in “Marie Madeleine.” It might be said that “Hérodiade” is the same sacred drama brought upon the stage, with this difference, that Madeleine becomes Salome, and Christ is transformed into John.
After “Hérodiade,” in Brussels, we had, in 1884, “Manon” at the Opéra Comique in Paris. Were I asked to make a definite choice between “Hérodiade” and “Manon” I should hesitate; but I should choose “Manon.” From the first to the last note the work is delightful. It is not less beautiful when softly sung at home to the accompaniment of the piano, than in the theatre, where our delight never for an instant moderates.
Following “Manon” in 1885, Massenet’s “Le Cid” in four acts, was performed at the Grand Opéra in Paris, and although reproduced several times, this work still maintains its place in the repertory.
In 1889, the indefatigable composer returned to the Opéra Comique with “Esclarmonde,” which drew crowds to this theatre during several months.
In the chronological order of the musician’s dramatic works, “Esclarmonde” is followed by “Le Mage,” a grand opera in four acts and six tableaux, the poem by M. Richepin, performed at the National Academy of Music in Paris. I have witnessed several renderings of this work, and have read the piano score. The more I have studied the opera the more am I impressed by its wonderful beauty. The individuality of the work, its passion and grace and delicacy, its originality as to form and harmony, are so numerous that it is unnecessary to criticise it more particularly.
All lovers of music know the extent of Massenet’s skill as a master of harmony. He is a master in the full meaning of the expression. It would be impossible for a musician to carry to a higher degree than he has done the complex art of orchestration or of counterpoint, so much honored of late years, though so often abused; or to have more happy facility as a harmonist. Were I to presume to criticise anything in the author of “Le Mage,” I should limit myself to mentioning his too clearly apparent striving after effect by means of fresh combinations of instruments. Massenet has too great a wealth of truly musical ideas for him to labor so hard for material effects. The true effects in music are produced by the thought, by the idea, apart from the application of the thought or idea to any special instrument. There is scarce any charm of emotion produced by music save through the musician’s imagination, that is, by the invention which results from the inward and profound emotion felt by the composer. Were it only necessary to be learned in any given art, only necessary to possess the power of cleverly combining notes and the tones of musical instruments, so as to produce fine musical works, every artist now living would write masterpieces; for, in truth, the study of technique has never been carried so far as it has been during the past twenty years. Technique is undoubtedly indispensable, but of itself it serves no purpose and is of no value, unless it be used as the exponent of the melodic conception which is the very soul of music.
M. Massenet has published seven suites for orchestra, which may be found in the repertory of every great musical society. To him we owe various scenes for chorus and orchestra: “Narcisse,” and “Biblis”; a symphonic poem entitled “Visions,” and a large number of fugitive melodies with pianoforte accompaniment. He has also completed the score of a ballet, “Le Carillon,” as yet unpublished.
Fac-simile of musical manuscript written by Massenet.
CHARLES GOUNOD
Reproduction of a photograph from life by Nadar, of Paris.
