Reviews — The New York Times

From the New York Times - June 25, 1894

SONG AND PLAY IN PARIS

“Portrait of Manon” by Massenet and Boyer.

***

     The “Portrait of Manon” by M. Jules Massenet and Georges Boyer, given at the Opéra Comique, is a mere caprice, a sort of after dream; the melancholy charm of the remembrance of past and living love is set, like some rare jewel, in pale gold filigraned; it is wrought to excess, as artistic as a frail piece of Dresden china, and as voluptuous as a Janagra statuette. The score is dainty and short, suitable even to a parlor, but full of all the sensuous beauty of the Massenet school.
     Des Grieux has grown old, he lives in the melancholy bygone days; a ribbon, a flower, the portrait of his Manon, are his only joys. He leads the life of a hermit; his only companion is Tiberge, the wise boy of the novel by Abbé Prévost, who has become a gay beau in his later years. Naturally he protects the loves of Aurore, his supported niece, and the young Viscount de Mortcerf, the pupil of Des Grieux. The latter refuses even to see the girl; he wants to spare his little friend and adopted son the love anguish of his own life. The boy and girl lovers determine to die, but the Viscount begs to kiss Aurore first. She is horrified, and endeavors to run away. In his pursuit de Mortcerf upsets a box, and the portrait of Manon falls to the ground.
     The children show it to Tiberge, who bids them take courage and hope. He makes Aurore wear the costume of Manon, and finally he tells Des Grieux who she is - the child of Manon’s brother, whom Tiberge has raised and loved. This is all.
     The bleuette will recall the original score, and with certain gratification, for its melody comes now and then with a lingering fancy; and, intermingling with the expression of the love of the children, there is the grave, tender, despondent keynote of the regret of Des Grieux. the whole is charming. The poem is facile, distinguished, Louise Quinze, touching; poet and musician meet with ease and pleasure.
     Every one has pretty things to sing and say. Aurore and her lover seem to murmur sweet nothings almost involuntarily. It is like a soft pastel or the faded, quaint beauty of some old, genuine Louis Seize brocade, delicate in coloring and faint in outline. Almost a chef d’oeuvre of refinement, and one of the best one-act operas ever written, I imagine.
     It is delightfully sung and acted. Fougère is ever perfect; but his Des Grieux was a surprise, nevertheless, still more in contrast with his rôle in “Phryné,” sung the same evening. Mlle. Laisné, who made her first appearance in “Werther,” has gained in voice, in beauty, and in grace. Her voice is clear, sweet, and wonderfully true; her execution easy and her diction faultless. Mlle. Elven wears the costume of the Viscount with rare charm; she acts and sings well. M. Grivot as Tiberge was worthy of his companions.

          A l’heure ou la rose s’eveille
          Sous le mignon baiser d’Avril
         Au bois, quand le rossignol veille,
         Avide d’aimer, se peut-il.
         Que la raison puisse d‚fendre
         A la fleurette d’embaumer,
         Au doux oiselet d’etre tendre
         Au coeur de dix-huit ans d’aimer?

Last updated December 30, 2006