Reviews — The New York Times

From the New York Times - December 20, 1885

MASSENET’S NEW SUCCESS
THE PRODUCTION OF HIS “CID”
AND ITS GREAT MERITS
THE MOST COMPLETE OF THIS AUTHOR’S
WORKS-HIS NERVOUSNESS THE FIRST
NIGHT-THE STORY THAT IS TOLD.

     Paris, Dec 4. - As I hinted in my last letter, the production of Massenet’s “Cid” has made a great sensation. Before going any further let me say that the immense success of the opera is in no way influenced by the astonishment and occasional dismay of the critic. By the present caviling, ambitious, and hesitating spirit anything pure, simple, and understandable is not taken up. It would seem as if either in literature, in music, in philosophy, or in religion that plain, unvarnished truth and beauty could be admitted only so far as their incoherency clothed and disguised either their depth or their shallowness. The French try to be Wagnerian, in spite of their ignorance - in the popular sense - of his works or peculiarities; they have hitherto refused to listen to his operas from political and national antipathy. It was reserved for the Sunday classical concerts to pave the way for almost regular hearing of fragments selected from the repertory of the German composer. These have made it possible for M. Carvalho to announce “Lohengrin” for February; but the representations can only be given as matin‚es, so as not to interfere with the French operas composing the usual routine of the week. Try and sing Schubert, Schumann, Franz, or Wagner in a parlor. You may be called erudite, but you will certainly be deemed a bore, and your supposed Germanic tendency will seem offensive. Nevertheless, the defined critics of the day - the leaders, in fact - strongly resist what they call the purely melodist school. Any continuation of sweet sound or rhythm drives them to sudden frenzy, while they gloat over a few measures lost in the noisy din of tempestuous orchestral fanaticism, as recently in “Sigurd.” They refuse consideration to what they stigmatize as the Italian school, or, still worse, the Verdi.
     The consternation was thus great on finding that M. Massenet, in this, his latest work, has resolutely declared himself a melodist of undoubted consistency and of remarkable inspiration. I do not mean that every note of the score bears the stamp of sudden new genius - traces of the “Roi de Lahore” could, perhaps be detected by the very inquisitive. It does not strike me as being entirely criminal to copy or to remember one’s self. The peculiarities of the musical terminations of the composer have also been classified as Gounodish. Now, Gounod never employed but one type of that kind. Since the song of the “Roi de Thule,” the charming transition which closes the final notes of each verse has been constantly used by the originator. M. Massenet has dozens of varieties, and his gift in the introduction of peculiarly felicitous accidentals and his extreme art of tone modulation make his imitation - if you admit the word - completely creative. Such are the faint shadows brought to bear by one or two critics upon the luminous musical picture of the “Cid.”
     The libretto was blocked out by M. Adolphe d’Ennery from the Spanish drama of “Guillem de Castro” and from Corneille’s “Cid;” it was versified by MM. Gallet and Blau. We are distinctly, although officiously, told that there has been no attempt to better the great classical tragedy, Corneille gathered his material from the same Spanish source, and the present adapters have united and melted both chef d’oeuvres in their writing of an operatic libretto. Where conciseness was required in the tragedy, the contrary was demanded by the larger framework and necessities of a five-act opera with ballet, chorus mise en scène, and spectacular development. There comes in this way no little diversity and change in the score, far more than in the tragedy.
     The first act of the new “Cid” takes place in Burgos at the house of Count Gormas, father of Chimène. From a very large window in the background you see the narrow streets, with the gayly decked houses, banners fluttering in the wind and the clear sound of the trumpets indicate a public fête. The occasion is the knighting of Don Rodrigue Diaz de Bivar by King Ferdinand IV. Count Gormas also confidently expects his share of the good things; in fact his friends and followers already congratulate him upon his new dignity of Governor to the infant, the son of the King. Chimène’s father feels particularly good-natured, and he encourages the inclination of his daughter, who, contrary to Juliet, has proclaimed her love publicly and with joyous accent. The daughter of the King, the Infante then appears. She, too, loves Rodrigue, but, her high position forbidding all personal attachment, she willingly gives him up to Chimène and promises her favor and support. The second tableau takes us to a gallery leading from the palace to the cathedral. Rodrigue here receives his new sword, and, flourishing it in empty space, he sings allegiance to Spain and to liberty and makes himself a Knight of St. Jacques. While he and Chimène join in a love duet the unsuspecting King makes Don Diego, father of Rodrigue, the Governor instead of Gormas. The King withdraws with his suite, and the two old rivals quarrel, fight, and Chimène’s father is disarmed. The act closes with the despair of the wounded man, who makes his son promise revenge. The latter consents to remember their honor and to forget his love.
     Act second begins with the duel between Gormas and Rodrigue. The former falls the victim. Chimène comes upon the stage and seeks the murderer of her father among the spectators, finally coming before her lover, whose guilt she detects in his pallor and trembling attitude. She understands at last and falls fainting in the arms of her attendants, while behind the scenes the monks chant the funeral dirge. The fourth tableau represents all the splendor of a Spanish fête, with its dances, fandango, guitars, castanets &c. In the midst of it all Chimène suddenly appears to beg the King to revenge her father’s death and to punish Rodrigue. Her pleadings and the King’s sorrowful temporizing are interrupted by the sudden and perhaps astounding appearance of a Moorish cavalier. He is sent by Boabdil, King of Granada, to declare war. No one understands exactly who this King is, or why his messenger comes, but in the opera it is all right, and it would be asking too much of any libretto to be exactly and constantly plausible. Fernand [Ferdinand] suddenly takes new grief at the loss of Gormas, his faithful soldier, and Don Diego offers Rodrigue in place. Rather meanly, Fernand, who evidently does not believe in personal valor, consents and asks Chimène to waive anger and revenge until the end of the campaign.
     Act third opens in the room of the heroine. Alone Chimène weeps and gives way to her grief and sorrow at the loss of her parent, and also of her lover. Suddenly the Cid appears, and in a long love duet she avows the strength of her passion, and Rodrigue goes away almost happy. Then ensues three tableaus in the camp of the Cid, near Cadiz. In the first, the dissolute, almost disbanded army can be seen with wine, women, and cards: the dancers lend their presence and their suggestive posing; in vain Rodrigue bids them begone and tries to kindle a spark of patriotic energy in the souls of his followers; they insult him and finally leave him in solitude and despair. Then the vision of St. Jacques appears with promise of new victory, glory, and fortune. Rodrigue finds his energy, he harangues his soldiers, and leads them to battle and to success. In the fourth act and ninth tableau the rumor of the Cid’s death has reached the Court. Don Diego, the Infanta, and Chimène give echo to their grief, the latter suddenly avowing all the tenderness of her pent-up affection. The King enters to tell the victorious tale and to announce the arrival of Rodrigue. Woman like, no sooner does Chimène learn that her betrothed is alive and will than she immediately demands his head. Like a sensible man the King apparently gives way and bids her pronounce sentence upon the victor. Her heart revolts, and she bids him live and love.
     This is not the first time that this fruitful subject has tempted the inspiration of a musician. Italy has listened to the story in all sorts of musical versions, some of them valuable enough, it would seem, to carry their identity into history. In its present form the libretto, with its historical discrepancies and its occasional puerility of incident or detail, is the most interesting, the most varied, and the most sensible, as a whole, ever listened to. In it M. Massenet found method, vigor, romance, and suggestive sentiment that just suited the clearly wrought tenderness, feeling, and grace of his talent and careful composition. After two hearings it would be presuming to give more than a brief summary indication of the principal beauties of so full a score; still more so as the musical numbers fall one into the other without abrupt interruptions. The composer had evidently conceived his canvas as a whole, and he had given full sweep to the clearness of cut, to the immediate comprehension of his exquisite melodies, and to the delicate refinement of phrasing. He meant to be understood at once, and it is no stretching of the truth to say that in spite of all theory the public recognized the conviction and power of the true musician and they gave instant, overwhelming applause. The recitative, of necessity somewhat heroic, is almost constantly sung to accompaniment of the most finished musical school. M. Massenet is a student; he inclines to Gluck, to the purest Italian methods also, but he is no imitator; his erudition is always made to bend before the personal conception of his own inspiration. The overture is the weakest number, chiefly, however, from its length and from the hesitancy of the composer to enter elaborately into the definition of the successive numbers of his score. One or two cuts would not hurt its value, and it would give greater weight to the outline. The success of the opera was at once started by the duet between the two sopranos, the few measures of Chimène leading to the general impression of calmness, strength, and restful melody. There was thus far - and, I might as well add, throughout the score - nowhere need of vocal rant. The music flows quietly, fittingly, and fully to the demands of the sentiment and to the words, and obedient even to average voice and interpretation. The fascination of this first duet is most winning; you could add nothing. It will take a very short time to find this number on every piano, and I almost think its interest and charm can resist the strain. It is not hard of execution, because the effects are so clearly indicated.
     The ensemble in the next scene is brilliant without being noisy, and it even affords more sweep to the declamatory outburst of Rodrigue in his cry of devotion to Spain. If there is any lack of originality in the entire score it is in this number, but the tendency is not Verdi-ish, but Meyebeerish. The few bars of love music interposed here are delightful. The opening scene of the second act, with its agitated measure of accompaniment and the supposed dramatic intonation of Rodrigue and his father, telling in abrupt broken sentences the story of his weakness, are most effective. Massenet excels in music painting. This special capability and power of interpretation are clearly defined even in his songs and romances; when he finds a field as comprehensive as in “The Cid” he works up his musical phrase with all the care and adoration of a true and believing artist. This does not exclude the ring of sudden inspiration, neither does it prevent the composition of long and trying morceaux d’ensemble. The entrance of Chimène is one of the most effective scenes I ever saw. It is admirably acted and carried out by Mme. Fidès Devriès, who found the most truthful and telling tragic accents, and this still more readily as her author made no continued demands upon the highest notes of her soprano range - a fault common to almost all musicians.
     The ballet music is all delicious. Like everything of the same kind written by Massenet, with his skillful intermingling of bells, mandolin, and flutes, allied to his perfect comprehension of the requirements and capabilities of his orchestra, each number was of its kind a perfect success. Had Mlle. Mauri chosen she might have repeated all her steps. During the dance the Infante - Mme. Bosman - sings the already famous “Alleluia,” while she distributes aims to the different groups. She gave the true ring to the melody so peculiarly sustained by the chorus of monks. This number was thrice repeated. Then comes a grand septuor. Chimène pleads for revenge, Rodrigue laments her lost love, the King and his daughter beg the crazed girl to be calm, while Don Diego defends his son’s act and asks for self-punishment. It is a master finale, not noisy, but always to the musical necessity and to the meaning and sense of the intuition. The solos of Chimène in the next act, commencing, “Pleurez, pleurez mes yeux,” is simply perfect. It is entirely true to the sentiment of her sorrow, and while it is touchingly, tearfully earnest, the easy, personal stamp of individuality makes it worthy of any classical composer, not excepting Mozart. The solo for the clarionet preceding this number indicates the melody, and is very effective. The love duet can rank with any of the best; Rodrigue and Chimène seemed to know the power of the accents given to them, and they both sang and acted as if the battle had not been won four times over. They were obliged to repeat the ensemble, and even then the audience cried for another hearing.
     The Moorish dance in the last act, which had occasioned so much interest, while it pleases the baldheads of the orchestra, failed to interest the general spectators as much as had been anticipated. The invocation of Rodrigue to Saint-Jacques, another exquisite and beautiful number, was of far more value to them Mr. Jean de Reské sang it, as he did all his rôle, with a charm of voice, manner, diction, and grace that at once gave to his d‚but the entire approbation of both critic and amateur. He has something of Capoul in the best days of the favored tenor. The winning presence of the latter is a treasure in itself, and when allied to a fresh, pure voice a long and safe career can be predicted. His brother Edward, Don Diego in “The Cid,” is a consummate artist, both vocally and dramatically. His phrasing is almost as perfect as that of Faure. As Chimène Mme. Devriès developed new talents. The part suits her vocally, and it is so carefully and naturally arranged as to permit dramatic intensity and tragic opportunity, for which it would be hard indeed to imagine better interpretation. She particularly enjoys the utmost ease and finish in her variations and shadings of modulation; there are shadows, lights, and half tints of infinite pathos. There is not a weak point in the entire cast. A new era has been inaugurated by Messrs. Gaillard & Ritt, who mounted and rehearsed this opera in about two months. It usually takes seven at this theatre. The scenery is good; not so gorgeous as one might expect when it is often about the only thing to see, but the subject gives such latitude and Spain affords so large a field for what one might call disordered imagination, that if there was any room for tinge of regret or disappointment it was in the stage decoration. As an entire score “The Cid” will remain, I think, the best, the most complete, of M. Massenet’s productions, and we must not forget that his musical creations already count “Marie Magdalene,” “Eve,” “Herodiade,” “Manon,” “The Roi de Lahore.” The gifted musician is only 42 now, and notwithstanding his extreme nervous susceptibility - he did not dare to go near the opera the first night, but sat by himself alone all the evening at the Opéra Comique, where they were giving “Manon” - he is physically stubborn to fatigue. If he will only give us two or three more such treats, he will be the most popular musical idol of the world, and attain a celebrity that may meet occasional opposition, but one that will also encounter universal esteem, belief, and approbation.

L.K.

Last updated December 29, 2006