On December 15, 1775, there was born in Rouen a composer who was to leave an indelible imprint of his abilities upon the operatic music of France. At the beginning of his career there was nothing in his circumstances that could have presaged his future greatness. He was the son of the secretary of Archbishop Larochefoucauld, and his mother kept a small millinery store in the old-fashioned city. His parents did not enjoy perfect conjugal felicity, and finally their quarrels led to a divorce, soon after which the father married again. The young Boieldieu was designed for a musical career, and his father soon sent him to the cathedral as a choir-boy. In those days music was frequently made a matter of apprenticeship, and was studied almost as if it had been a handicraft; it is therefore not surprising to find the lad indentured to the cathedral organist Broche, who led him a sorry life. Those who are familiar with the early life of Haydn will recall how that composer was forced for a time to be merely the lackey of Porpora; Boieldieu was in still worse case, for his master was both a drunkard and a martinet, and many a corporal punishment was inflicted on the apprentice merely because of errors in musical exercises. It seems strange that the rough induction into the art did not cause the lad to hate music and finally desert it, but, as was the case with Beethoven, the tears of childhood only seem to have cemented the foundation of his education. Broche made the curriculum hard and dry enough, and the companions of the lad (“le petit Boiel” they called him then) added to his discomforts by laughing at his shyness and awkward ways.
Naturally enough Boieldieu stood in mortal terror of his brutal taskmaster, and the culmination of his fright came one day when he accidentally upset an ink bottle on one of Broche’s books; expecting nothing less than capital punishment for such a heinous crime, the boy took to his heels, and, at the age of twelve, ran away to Paris. How he managed to get there without money or assistance is not clearly known, but he eventually arrived and sought out some relatives who dwelt in the French metropolis. These gave him shelter, but at the same time notified his parents, who soon took him back to his musical and menial drudgery. Nevertheless his condition seems to have been bettered by his escapade, for Broche was warned to use milder measures with him, and he remained at his studies with the organist until he was sixteen. During these four years his taste for operatic music began to awaken, and he was a constant attendant at the performances in the provincial theatre. As he had no money he was obliged to resort to all kinds of expedients to obtain admission, and there are many anecdotes extant of his ingenious efforts to hear this or that opera without going through the slight preliminary of paying for his admission. At times he would slip into the theatre early in the morning, carrying a bundle of music, as if he had been sent as messenger to some of the orchestra, and then, by hiding through the day, often without food, he managed to stand through the performance in the evening, after which he would hurry home well contented with his good fortune. The operas which he heard at this period of his career were chiefly those of Grétry or of Mehul, as both composers were much in vogue at that time, and he was much influenced by their light and melodious style. It was not long before his ambition was awakened to an attempt to imitate them and to compose an opera himself. He was eighteen years old when he accomplished this task. He had sought in vain for a libretto, and finally had recourse to his father, who gave him the text for an opera which enjoyed an evanescent success. “La Fille Coupable” was the name of this Opus 1, which was completed in 1793 and has now disappeared. One can imagine that the audiences were neither over-refined or hypercritical in those days of the Reign of Terror, but a more cultivated era soon followed, and the second opera, which came two years later, and was entitled “Rosalie et Myrza,” was less favorably received. Boieldieu was not yet ripe for operatic composition, but at least these works furthered his career in that they obtained him the privilege of free entrance to other operatic performances, and thus his experience and taste were gradually expanded.
BUST OF BOIELDIEU BY DANTAN.
From the Carnavalet Museum, Paris.
The partial success fired his heart sufficiently for him to leave Rouen and seek Paris for the second time. This time he carried with him thirty francs, an operatic score, and an abundance of self-confidence. He was now nineteen years old. His reception was the chilling one usually accorded to young composers in Paris, and very soon he began to feel the nippings of hunger, which put the thoughts of public success out of his head for the nonce, and drove him to teaching piano. He however had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of the celebrated tenor Garat, and this gentleman became interested in him, and finally sang some of his chansons in public and in fashionable drawing-rooms. These little songs soon found favor, and Boieldieu became gradually known through them. M. Cochet, the publisher, paid him twelve francs each for these productions, a figure which seems ridiculous until one remembers that Schubert sometimes accepted a franc or two for some of his immortal lieder. Some of these early works of Boieldieu are still in the musical repertoire, and are occasionally heard in concerts, as for example, “O toi que j’aime,” and “Menestrel,” and they served at the time to spread the social success of the composer. Finally Boieldieu made the acquaintance of Fiévée, the novelist, who wrote for him a short libretto in one act, “La Dot de Suzette,” and this opera, after many intrigues and jealousies, achieved performance and success, thanks to a bright libretto, sparkling melodies, and the excellent performance of Madame St. Aubin.
Boieldieu’s prospects now changed with Aladdin-like suddenness, for his next opera, “La Famille Suisse,” was performed at the Theatre Feydeau for thirty nights in alternation with Cherubini’s “Medee,” and thus early began that connection with the great Italian maestro, at that time the best musician in France, which was to be so fruitful of good results to the new favorite. In 1798 Boieldieu turned for a while from operatic work, and composed a number of piano sonatas, piano and harp duets, and a piano concerto. Although these exercised no permanent influence on the art, they obtained for him the appointment of professor of piano at the Paris Conservatoire, two years later. In this position, however he was not very successful; he was too much wrapped up in composition to make a good teacher. The musical historian Fétis, who was his pupil, confirms this estimate; but the post at the Conservatoire led to a close acquaintance with Cherubini, by which Boieldieu began to remedy his lack of knowledge of counterpoint and fugal work. Although Fétis denies that Boieldieu was ever the pupil of Cherubini, there is every reason to believe that this was the case, even if a regular stipend was not paid for the tuition. The very fact that in 1799 the two worked in collaboration on “La Prisonnière” might tend to show that Boieldieu was anxious to attain something of Cherubini’s musical learning, and his submission of many later operas to the judgment of this master proves that he was willing to be guided by him.
About this time Boieldieu produced two operas that carried his fame beyond his native country; these were the Polish “Benjowski” and the very tuneful “Caliph of Bagdad,” both of which will receive further mention in the analytical portion of this article. A little later there appeared a more advanced work,—“Ma Tante Aurore.” The success was now so well established that all Parisian managers sought for works from the gifted pen, and opera followed opera.
TOMB OF BOIELDIEU IN PÈRE LACHAISE, PARIS.
From a lithograph.