Famous composers and their works, Vol. 3

by Unknown

Boieldieu now lived on contentedly in Paris until 1802, when he almost wrecked his career in the same manner that his father had done; on March 19th of that year he married a ballet-dancer named Clotilde Mafleuroy, and immediately began to taste the bitterness of conjugal misery. He suddenly left Paris on this account and sought employment in Russia. He was received in St. Petersburg with open arms, and the Czar Alexander at once appointed him capellmeister of the court. He produced little on this barren soil however, and although he stayed there eight years, and his contract called for three new operas and a number of military marches annually, scarcely anything of this period has been preserved. In 1810 the political horizon began to darken, and trouble between Russia and France became so imminent that our composer again suddenly packed up and returned to his beloved Paris, arriving at the beginning of 1811. Here however he found everything changed. The Napoleonic wars had exerted a deleterious influence on operatic patronage, and the taste, too, had changed in some degree; Cherubini and Mehul were silent, and Isouard alone ruled Opera Comique. Considerable jealousy of Boieldieu was at this time displayed, and at first he was unsuccessful in having any of the works he had written in Russia performed in Paris; therefore he set himself to producing an original work, and in 1812, “Jean de Paris,” a masterpiece of its kind, was produced at the Theatre Feydeau. Again a success was won, although not such a phenomenal one as the “Caliph of Bagdad” had attained, and for the next six years another series of operas proved that the composer had not lost his hold upon the Parisian public, and in addition to his own operas Boieldieu collaborated with Cherubini and Isouard. Two years later a great success attended the first production of “Le Chaperon Rouge,” but the composer was so exhausted by this effort that he was obliged to rest for a while from further composition. He now received the position of professor of composition at the Conservatoire, taking the place of Mehul, and for seven years he produced nothing more in opera. The crowning work was however to come later. During a stay at his brother’s farm in Cormeilles Boieldieu began composing once more. This time it was something far beyond his previous efforts, it was a chef d’œuvre in the domain of comic opera,—the ever-beautiful “La Dame Blanche.” This masterwork was performed in December, 1825, and at once awakened boundless enthusiasm. Boieldieu was not much exhilarated by the result, for he seemed to feel that he could never hope to equal this work again. Nevertheless he soon attempted another subject, as if to ascertain if his surmises were correct. Bouilly’s dull libretto, “Les Deux Nuits” was accepted, as much from friendship as from any other motive. The new opera was finished in 1829, and made a flat failure, a result which hurt Boieldieu’s feelings in an inordinate degree. He had brought back a pulmonary trouble from Russia, and his disappointment seemed to aggravate the disease. He gave up his position at the Conservatoire, feeling too weak to continue teaching. The director of the Opera Comique had given Boieldieu a pension of 1200 francs for his great services to the art, but the expulsion of Charles X. now came about, a new direction was installed, the institution was found to be bankrupt, and the income from this source ceased just when it was most needed. He had married again in 1827, and this time the union was a fortunate one, for in these final days of trial, sickness, and pecuniary difficulty, his wife sustained his drooping spirits with unswerving fidelity. She was a singer, Philis by name, and was the mother of Boieldieu’s only son, a composer of good attainments, but overshadowed by his father’s ability. Finally Louis Philippe was established on the throne of France, and his minister, M. Thiers, made speedy recognition of the value of Boieldieu’s work by granting him an annual pension of 6,000 francs. It could not give back the composer’s health, however, and, after a tour to Pisa he came back worse. He had been obliged by poverty to take back his old position at the Conservatoire, and made a brave effort to continue in it, but it was useless; in another tour in hopeless search for health, he died at Jarcy, October 8th, 1834. At the tomb his old companion and teacher, Cherubini, gave a last tribute to the modest and talented nature that had passed away so prematurely.

Boieldieu may be summed up in a single phrase as a Parisian Mozart. He had Mozart’s gift of melody and grace, and in his later years something of Mozart’s skill in harmonic and contrapuntal combination, but, unlike Mozart, his work can be divided into three epochs, the third only being comparable in ensemble to the works of the German master. Boieldieu has been ranked as the best composer of opera comique that France ever produced, and it is not too much to say that only Bizet has approached him in characteristic touches and poetic inspiration. Three works are at present the chief representatives of Boieldieu’s fame, “The Caliph of Bagdad,” which shows his earliest method, “Jean de Paris,” which is a good example of his second period, and “La Dame Blanche,” which is the finest of all his operas, the best outcome of the French opera comique school, and shows the composer in his third and best period of growth.

Boieldieu was never misled by the popular applause which was showered upon him before it was fairly deserved. It has been well said that “there is no heavier burden than a great name acquired too soon,” and it is to the credit of Boieldieu that, although he acquired this burden with “The Caliph of Bagdad,” which has had over a thousand performances in France, he did not continue in the rather frivolous vein which had so captivated his earliest audiences. His modest desire to advance may be proven by the fact that when this opera was achieving its greatest success, Cherubini reproached him with “Malheureux! are you not ashamed of such an undeserved success?” when Boieldieu mildly begged for further instruction, that he might do better in the future. He even courted the opinions of his pupils in the Conservatoire as to portions of his work, a rather dangerous meekness. Pretty tunes and marked rhythms are the characteristics of this period. “Zoraime et Zulnare,” although at present almost unknown, always remained a favorite of the composer, but it is only another example of musicians not being the best judges of their own works.

Fac-simile musical manuscript written by Boieldieu.

“Benjowski” is a transition towards his second period. It has a Polish plot written by Kotzebue, and its music has much local color. It was composed in 1800, but was retouched by Boieldieu a quarter of a century later, when he wittily said, “It smells of Russia leather!” The opening quartette in this work is very dramatic.

“Ma Tante Aurore” may be said to begin the second period. It preserves the brightness of the first period, but is much finer in its scoring, and it is no exaggeration to say that in this matter Boieldieu surpassed all of his contemporaries in France, with the sole exception of Cherubini. The versatility displayed in this period speaks of growth.

The eight years spent in Russia may be passed over with but slight comment, for of all that he wrote there, he cared to preserve but three operas, “Rien de Trop,” “La Jeune Femme,” and “Les Voitures Versées.” One cause of the weakness of the works of this period was the fact that no good librettos were obtainable, and the composer was even obliged to use many that had been set by other musicians.

Some commentators class “Jean de Paris” in the third period of Boieldieu’s work. It is a beautiful and characteristic opera; the song of the Princess, full of charming grace, the bold and dashing measures of the page, and the stiff, ceremonious style of the music of the Seneschal, are a few of the striking touches that go to make up a very brilliant work which has not yet disappeared from the repertoire, but when compared with “La Dame Blanche” the ensemble-writing is seen to be inferior. In this latter opera, the climax of his works, Boieldieu did not depart from the melodious character of his first and second periods, but rather added to it. All through his career he clung to the folk-song, and exactly as “Der Freischütz” was evolved by Weber from the German Volkslied, so “La Dame Blanche” had its root in the French Chanson. The libretto was evolved by Scribe from Scott’s works by amalgamating the “Monastery” and “Guy Mannering,” but spite of the introduction of “The Bush aboon Traquier” and “Robin Adair” (the latter not a true Scotch song) the flavor is by no means Scotch either in libretto or music. The harmonization of the finales of this opera is beyond anything that has been attained in French opera comique, and shows Boieldieu as a master in a school of which we find no traces in “The Caliph of Bagdad.” Yet through all the three periods one finds the thread of the Chanson running melodiously. Music that is sincerely national can never die, and the secret of the success of Boieldieu’s operas, and their perennial freshness may be found in the fact that the composer builded upon the music of his country, and there is no firmer foundation possible.