History of the Opera from its Origin in Italy to the present Time Part 13

In Paris Madame Mara was received with enthusiasm, and founded the celebrated party of the Maratistes, to which was opposed the almost equally distinguished sect of the Todistes. Madame Todi was a Portuguese, and she and Madame Mara were the chief, though contending, attractions at the Concert Spirituel of Paris, in 1782. These rivalries between singers have occasioned, in various countries and at various times, a good many foolish verses and _mots_. The Mara and Todi disputes, however, inspired one really good stanza, which is as follows:--

"Todi par sa voix touchante, De doux pleurs mouille mes yeux; Mara plus vive, plus brillante, M'etonne, me transporte aux cieux.

L'une ravit et l'autre enchante, Mais celle qui plait le mieux, Est toujours celle qui chante."

Of Madame Mara's performances in London, where she obtained her greatest and most enduring triumphs, I shall speak in another chapter.

A good notion of the weak points in the Opera in Italy during the early part of the 18th century is given, that is to say, is conveyed ironically, in the celebrated satire by Marcello, ent.i.tled _Teatro a la Moda, &c., &c._[34]

[Sidenote: MARCELLO'S SATIRE.]

The author begins by telling the poet, that "there is no occasion for his reading, or having read, the old Greek and Latin authors: for this good reason, that the ancients never read any of the works of the moderns. He will not ask any questions about the ability of the performers, but will rather inquire whether the theatre is provided with a good bear, a good lion, a good nightingale, good thunder, lightning and earthquakes. He will introduce a magnificent show in his last scene, and conclude with the usual chorus in honour of the sun, the moon or the manager. In dedicating his libretto to some great personage, he will select him for his riches rather than his learning, and will give a share of the gratuity to his patron's cook, or maitre d'hotel, from whom he will obtain all his t.i.tles, that he may blazon them on his t.i.tle pages with an &c., &c. He will exalt the great man's family and ancestors; make an abundant use of such phrases as liberality and generosity of soul; and if he can find any subject of eulogy (as is often the case), he will say, that he is silent through fear of hurting his patron's modesty; but that fame, with her hundred brazen trumpets, will spread his immortal name from pole to pole. He will do well to protest to the reader that his opera was composed in his youth, and may add that it was written in a few days: by this he will show that he is a true modern, and has a proper contempt for the antiquated precept, _nonumque prematur in annum_. He may add, too, that he became a poet solely for his amus.e.m.e.nt, and to divert his mind from graver occupations; but that he had published his work by the advice of his friends and the command of his patrons, and by no means from any love of praise or desire of profit. He will take care not to neglect the usual explanation of the three great points of every drama, the place, time, and action; the place, signifying in such and such a theatre; the time, from eight to twelve o'clock at night; the action, the ruin of the manager. The incidents of the piece should consist of dungeons, daggers, poison, boar-hunts, earthquakes, sacrifices, madness, and so forth; because the people are always greatly moved by such unexpected things. A good _modern_ poet ought to know nothing about music, because the ancients, according to Strabo, Pliny, &c., thought this knowledge necessary. At the rehearsals he should never tell his meaning to any of the performers, wisely reflecting that they always want to do everything in their own way. If a husband and wife are discovered in prison, and one of them is led away to die, it is indispensable that the other remain to sing an air, which should be to lively words, to relieve the feelings of the audience, and make them understand that the whole affair is a joke. If two of the characters make love, or plot a conspiracy, it should always be in the presence of servants and attendants. The part of a father or tyrant, when it is the princ.i.p.al character, should always be given to a soprano; reserving the tenors and ba.s.ses for captains of the guard, confidants, shepherds, messengers, and so forth.

[Sidenote: MARCELLO'S SATIRE.]

"The modern composer is told that there is no occasion for his being master of the principles of composition, a little practice being all that is necessary. He need not know anything of poetry, or give himself any trouble about the meaning of the words, or even the quant.i.ties of the syllables. Neither is it necessary that he should study the properties of the stringed or wind instruments; if he can play on the harpsichord, it will do very well. It will, however, be not amiss for him to have been for some years a violin-player, or music-copier for some celebrated composer, whose original scenes he may treasure up, and thus supply himself with subjects for his airs, recitations, or choruses. He will by no means think of reading the opera through, but will compose it line by line; using for the airs, _motivi_ which he has lying by him; and if the words do not go well below the notes, he will torment the poet till they are altered to his mind. When the singer comes to a cadence, the composer will make all the instruments stop, leaving it to the singer to do whatever he pleases. He will serve the manager on very low terms, considering the thousands of crowns that the singers cost him:--he will, therefore, content himself with an inferior salary to the lowest of these, provided that he is not wronged by the bear, the attendants or the scene-s.h.i.+fters being put above him. When he is walking with the singers, he will always give them the wall, keep his hat in his hand, and remain a step in the rear; considering that the lowest of them, on the stage, is at least a general, a captain of the guards, or some such personage. All the airs should be formed of the same materials--long divisions, holding notes, and repet.i.tions of insignificant words, as amore, amore, impero, impero, Europa, Europa, furori, furori, orgoglio, orgoglio, &c.; and therefore the composer should have before him a memorandum of the things necessary for the termination of every air. This will enable him to eschew variety, which is no longer in use. After ending a recitative in a flat key, he will suddenly begin an air in three or four sharps; and this by way of novelty. If the modern composer wishes to write in four parts, two of them must proceed in unison or octave, only taking care that there shall be a diversity of movement; so that if the one part proceeds by minims or crotchets, the other will be in quavers or semiquavers. He will charm the audience with airs, accompanied by the stringed instruments _pizzicati_ or _con sordini_, trumpets, and other effective contrivances. He will not compose airs with a simple ba.s.s accompaniment, because this is no longer the custom; and, besides, he would take as much time to compose one of these as a dozen with the orchestra. The modern composer will oblige the manager to furnish him with a large orchestra of violins, oboes, horns, &c., saving him rather the expense of double ba.s.ses, of which there is no occasion to make any use, except in tuning at the outset. The overture will be a movement in the French style, or a prestissimo in semiquavers in a major key, to which will succeed a _piano_ in the minor; concluding with a minuet, gavot or jig, again in the major key. In this manner the composer will avoid all fugues, syncopations, and treatment of subjects, as being antiquated contrivances, quite banished from modern music. The modern composer will be most attentive to all the ladies of the theatre, supplying them with plenty of old songs transposed to suit their voices, and telling each of them that the Opera is supported by her talent alone. He will bring every night some of his friends, and seat them in the orchestra; giving the double ba.s.s or violoncello (as being the most useless instruments) leave of absence to make room for them.

[Sidenote: MARCELLO'S SATIRE.]

"The singer is informed that there is no occasion for having practised the solfeggio; because he would thus be in danger of acquiring a firm voice, just intonation, and the power of singing in tune; things wholly useless in modern music. Nor is it very necessary that he should be able to read or write, know how to p.r.o.nounce the words or understand their meaning, provided he can run divisions, make shakes, cadences, &c. He will always complain of his part, saying that it is not in his way, that the airs are not in his style, and so on; and he will sing an air by some other composer, protesting that at such a court, or in the presence of such a great personage, that air carried away all the applause, and he was obliged to repeat it a dozen times in an evening.

At the rehearsals he will merely hum his airs, and will insist on having the time in his own way. He will stand with one hand in his waistcoat and the other in his breeches' pocket, and take care not to allow a syllable to be heard. He will always keep his hat on his head, though a person of quality should speak to him, in order to avoid catching cold; and he will not bow his head to anybody, remembering the kings, princes, and emperors whom he is in the habit of personating. On the stage he will sing with shut teeth, doing all he can to prevent a word he says from being understood, and, in the recitatives, paying no respect either to commas or periods. While another performer is reciting a soliloquy or singing an air, he will be saluting the company in the boxes, or listening with musicians in the orchestra, or the attendants; because the audience knows very well that he is Signor So-and-so, the _musico_, and not Prince Zoroastro, whom he is representing. A modern virtuoso will be hard to prevail on to sing at a private party. When he arrives he will walk up to the mirror, settle his wig, draw down his ruffles, and pull up his cravat to show his diamond brooch. He will then touch the harpsichord very carelessly, and begin his air three or four times, as if he could not recollect it. Having granted this great favour, he will begin talking (by way of gathering applause) with some lady, telling her stories about his travels, correspondence and professional intrigues; all the while ogling his companion with pa.s.sionate glances, and throwing back the curls of his peruke, sometimes on one shoulder, sometimes on the other. He will every minute offer the lady snuff in a different box, in one of which he will point out his own portrait; and will show her some magnificent diamond, the gift of a distinguished patron, saying that he would offer it for her acceptance were it not for delicacy. Thus he will, perhaps, make an impression on her heart, and, at all events, make a great figure in the eyes of the company. In the society of the literary men, however eminent, he will always take precedence, because, with most people, the singer has the credit of being an artist, while the literary man has no consideration at all. He will even advise them to embrace his profession, as the singer has plenty of money as well as fame, while the man of letters is very apt to die of hunger. If the singer is a ba.s.s, he should constantly sing tenor pa.s.sages as high as he can. If a tenor, he ought to go as low as he can in the scale of the ba.s.s, or get up, with a falsetto voice, into the regions of the contralto, without minding whether he sings through his nose or his throat. He will pay his court to all the princ.i.p.al _cantatrici_ and their protectors; and need not despair, by means of his talent and exemplary modesty, to acquire the t.i.tle of a count, marquis, or chevalier.

"The _prima donna_ receives ample instructions in her duties both on and off the stage. She is taught how to make engagements and to screw the manager up to exorbitant terms; how to obtain the "protection" of rash amateurs, who are to attend her at all times, pay her expenses, make her presents, and submit to her caprices. She is taught to be careless at rehearsals, to be insolent to the other performers, and to perform all manner of musical absurdities on the stage. She must have a music-master to teach her variations, pa.s.sages and embellishments to her airs; and some familiar friend, an advocate or a doctor, to teach her how to move her arms, turn her head, and use her handkerchief, without telling her why, for that would only confuse her head. She is to endeavour to vary her airs every night; and though the variations may be at cross purposes with the ba.s.s, or the violin part, or the harmony of the accompaniments, that matters little, as a modern conductor is deaf and dumb. In her airs and recitatives, in action, she will take care every night to use the same motions of her hand, her head, her fan, and her handkerchief. If she orders a character to be put in chains, and addresses him in an air of rage or disdain, during the symphony she should talk and laugh with him, point out to him people in the boxes, and show how very little she is in earnest. She will get hold of a new pa.s.sage in rapid triplets, and introduce it in all her airs, quick, slow, lively, or sad; and the higher she can rise in the scale, the surer she will be of having all the princ.i.p.al parts allotted her," &c., &c.

Enough, however, of this excellent but somewhat fatiguing irony; and let me conclude this chapter with a few words about the librettists of the 18th century. The best _libretti_ of Apostolo Zeno, Calsabigi and Metastasio, such as the _Dem.o.f.onte_, the _Artaserse_, the _Didone_, and above all the _Olimpiade_, have been set to music by dozens of composers. Piccinni, and Sacchini each composed music twice to the _Olimpiade_; Jomelli set _Didone_ twice and _Dem.o.f.onte_ twice; Ha.s.se wrote two operas on the _libretto_ of the _Nittetti_, two on that of _Artemisia_, two on _Artaserse_, and three on _Arminio_. The excellence of these opera-books in a dramatic point of view is sufficiently shown by the fact that many of them, including Metastasio's _Didone_, _Issipile_ and _Artaserse_ have been translated into French, and played with success as tragedies. The _Clemenza di t.i.to_, by the same author (which in a modified form became the _libretto_ of Mozart's last opera) was translated into Russian and performed at the Moscow Theatre during the reign of the Empress Elizabeth.

In the present day, several of Scribe's best comic operas have been converted into comic dramas for the English stage, while others by the same author have been made the groundwork of Italian _libretti_. Thus _Le Philtre_ and _La Somnambule_ are the originals of Donizetti's _Elisir d'amore_ and Bellini's _Sonnambula_. Several of Victor Hugo's admirably constructed dramas have also been laid under contribution by the Italian librettists of the present day. Donizetti's _Lucrezia_ is founded on _Lucrece Borgia_; Verdi's _Ernani_ on _Hernani_, his _Rigoletto_ on _Le Roi s'amuse_.

[Sidenote: LIBRETTI.]

Our English writers of _libretti_ are about as original as the rest of our dramatists. _The Bohemian Girl_ is not only identical in subject with _La Gitana_, but is a translation of an unpublished opera founded on that _ballet_ and written by M. St. George. The English version is evidently called _The Bohemian Girl_ from M. St. George having ent.i.tled his ma.n.u.script opera _La Bohemienne_, and from Mr. Bunn having mistaken the meaning of the word. It is less astonis.h.i.+ng that the manager of a theatre should commit such an error than that no one should hitherto have pointed it out. The heroine of the opera is not a Bohemian, but a gipsey; and Bohemia has nothing to do with the piece, the action taking place in some portion of the "fair land of Poland," which, as the librettist informs us, was "trod by the hoof;" though whether in Russian, in Austrian or in Prussian Poland we are not informed. _La Zingara_ has often been played at Vienna, and I have seen _La Gitana_ at Moscow. Probably the Austrians lay the scene of the drama in the Russian, and the Russians in the Austrian, dominions. Fortunately, Mr.

Balfe has given no particular colour to the music of his _Bohemian Girl_, which, as far as can be judged from the melodies sung by her, is as much (and as little) a Bohemian girl as a gipsey girl, or a Polish girl, or indeed any other girl. The _libretti_ of Mr. Balfe's _Satanella_, _Rose of Castille_, _Maid of Honour_, _Bondsman_, &c., are all founded on French pieces. Mr. Wallace's _Maritana_, is, I need hardly say, founded on the French drama of _Don Caesar de Bazan_. But there is unmistakeable originality in the _libretto_ of this composer's _Lurline_, though the chief incidents are, of course, taken from the well-known German legend on which Mendelsohn commenced writing his opera of _Loreley_.

[Sidenote: NATIONAL STYLES.]

One of the very few good original _libretti_ in the English language is that of _Robin Hood_, by Mr. Oxenford. The best of all English libretti, in point of literary merit, being probably Dryden's _Albion and Albanius_, while the best French libretto in all respects is decidedly Victor Hugo's _Esmeralda_. Mr. Macfarren has, in many places, given quite an English character to the music of _Robin Hood_, though, in doing so, he has not (as has been a.s.serted) founded a national style of operatic music; for the same style applied to subjects not English might be found as inappropriate as the music of _The Barber of Seville_ would be adapted to _Tom and Jerry_. A great deal can be written and very little decided about this question of nationality of style in music. If Auber's style is French, (instead of being his own, as I should say) what was that of Rameau? If "The Ma.r.s.eillaise" is such a thoroughly French air (as every one admits), how is it that it happens to be an importation from Germany? The Royalist song of "Pauvre Jacques" pa.s.sed for French, but it was Dibdin's "Poor Jack." How is it that "Malbrook"

sounds so French, and "We won't go home till morning" so English--an attempt, by the way, having been made to show that the airs common to both these songs were sung originally by the Spanish Moors? I fancy the great point, after all, is to write good music; and if it be written to good English words, full of English rhythm and cadence, it will, from that alone, derive a sufficiently English character.

Handel appears to me to have done far greater service to English Opera than Arne or any of our English and pseudo-English operatic composers whose works are now utterly forgotten, except by musical antiquaries; for Handel established Italian Opera among us on a grand artistic scale, and since then, at Her Majesty's Theatre, and subsequently at the comparatively new Royal Italian Opera, all the finest works, whether of the Italian, the German, or the French school, have been brought out as fast as they have been produced abroad, and, on the whole, in very excellent style. English Opera has no history, no unbroken line of traditions; it has no regular sequence of operatic weeks by native composers; but at our Italian Opera Houses, the whole history of dramatic music has been exemplified, and from Gluck to Verdi is still exemplified in the present day. We take no note, it is true, of the old French composers,--Lulli, who begat Rameau, and Rameau, who begat no one--and for the reason just indicated. There are plenty of amusing stories about the _Academie Royale_ from its very foundation, but the true history of dramatic music in France dates from the arrival of Gluck in Paris in 1774.

CHAPTER VIII.

FRENCH OPERA FROM LULLI TO THE DEATH OF RAMEAU.

Ramists and Lullists.--Rameau's Letters of n.o.bility.--His death.--Affairs of honour and love.--Sophie Arnould.--Madame Favart.--Charles Edward at the Academie.

Lulli died in Paris, March 22nd, 1687, at the age of fifty-four. In beating time with his walking stick during the performance of a _Te Deum_ which he had composed to celebrate the convalescence of Louis XIV., he struck his foot, and with so much violence that he died from the effects of the blow. It is said[35] that this _Te Deum_ produced a great sensation, and that Lulli died satisfied, like a general expiring on the battle field immediately after a victory.

All Lulli's operas are in five acts, but they are very short. "The drama," says M. Halevy, "comprises but a small number of scenes; the pieces are of a briefness to be envied; it is music summarized; two phrases make an air. The task of the composer then was far from being what it is now. The secret had not yet been discovered of those pieces, those finales which have since been so admirably developed, linking together in one well-conceived whole, a variety of situations which a.s.sist the inspiration of the composer and sometimes call it forth.

There is certainly more music in one of the finales of a modern work than in the five acts of an opera of Lulli's. We may add that the art of instrumentation, since carried to such a high degree of brilliancy, was then confined within very narrow limits, or rather this art did not exist. The violins, violas, ba.s.s viols, hautboys, which at first formed the entire a.r.s.enal of the composer, seldom did more than follow the voices. Lulli, moreover, wrote only the vocal part and the ba.s.s of his compositions. His pupils, Lalouette and Cola.s.se, who were conductors (_chefs d'orchestre_, or, as was said at that time, _batteurs de mesure_) under his orders, filled up the orchestral parts in accordance with his indications. This explains how, in the midst of all the details with which he had to occupy himself, he could write such a great number of works; but it does not diminish the idea one must form of his facility, his intelligence, and his genius, for these works, rapidly as they were composed, kept possession of the stage for more than a century."

The next great composer, in France, to Lulli, in point of time, was Rameau. "Rameau" (in the words of the author from whom I have just quoted, and whose opinion on such a subject cannot be too highly valued) "elevated and strengthened the art; his harmonies were more solidly woven, his orchestra was richer, his instrumentation more skilful, his colouring more decided."

Dr. Burney, however, in his account of the French Opera of his period (when Rameau's works were constantly being performed) speaks of the music as monotonous in the extreme and without ryhthm or expression.

Indeed, he found nothing at the French Opera to admire but the dancing and the decorations, and these alone (he tells us) seemed to give pleasure to the audience. Nevertheless, the French journals of the middle of the 18th century constantly informed their readers that Rameau was the first musician in Europe, "though," as Grimm remarked, "Europe scarcely knew the name of her first musician, knew none of his operas, and could not have tolerated them on her stages."

[Sidenote: RAMISTS AND LULLISTS.]

Jean Phillippe Rameau was born the 25th September, 1683, at Dijon. He studied music under the direction of his father, Jean Rameau, an organist, and afterwards visited Italy, but does not appear to have appreciated Italian music. On his return to France he wrote the music of an opera founded on the _Phedre_ of Racine, and ent.i.tled _Hippolyte et Aricie_. This work, which was produced in 1733, was received with much applause and a good deal of hissing, but on the whole it obtained a great success which was not diminished in the end by having been contested in the first instance. Rameau had soon so many admirers of his own, and met with so much opposition from the admirers of Lulli that two parties of Lullists and of Ramists were formed. This was the first of those foolish musical feuds of which Paris has witnessed so many, though scarcely more than London. Indeed, London had already seen the disputes between the partisans of Mrs. Tofts, the English singer, and Margarita l'Epine, the Italian, as well as the more celebrated Handel and Buononcini contests, and the quarrels between the friends of Faustina and Cuzzoni. However, when Rameau produced his _Castor and Pollux_, in 1737, he was generally admitted by his compatriots to be the greatest composer of the day, not only in France, but in all Europe--which, as Grimm observed, was not acquainted with him. Gluck, however, is said[36]

to have expressed his admiration of the chorus, _Que tout gemisse_, and M. Castil Blaze a.s.sures us, that "the fine things which this work (_Castor and Pollux_) contains, would please in the present day."

Great honours were paid to Rameau by Louis XV., who granted him letters of n.o.bility, and that only to render him worthy of a still higher mark of favour, the order of St. Michael. The composer on receiving his patent did not take the trouble to register it, upon which the king, thinking Rameau was afraid of the expense, offered to defray all the necessary charges himself. "Let me have the money, your Majesty," said Rameau, "and I will apply it to some more useful purpose. Letters of n.o.bility to me? _Castor_ and _Darda.n.u.s_ gave them to me long ago!"

[Sidenote: RAMEAU'S LETTERS OF n.o.bILITY.]

Rameau's letters of n.o.bility were invalidated by not being registered, but the order of St. Michael was given to him all the same.

The badge of the same order was refused unconditionally by Beaumarchais, when it was offered to him by the Baron de Breteuil, minister of Louis XVI., the author of the _Marriage of Figaro_ observing that men whose merit was acknowledged had no need of decorations.

Thus, too, Tintoretto refused knighthood at the hands of Henry III. of France (of what value, by the way, was the barren compliment to Sir Antony Vand.y.k.e, whom every one knows as a painter, and no one, scarcely, as a knight)? Thus, the celebrated singer, Forst, of Mies, in Bohemia, refused letters of n.o.bility from Joseph I., Emperor of Germany, but accepted a pension of three hundred florins, which was offered to him in its place; and thus Beethoven being asked by the Prince von Hatzfeld, Prussian amba.s.sador at Vienna, whether he would rather have a subscription of fifty ducats, which was due to him,[37] or the cross of some order, replied briefly, with all readiness of determination--"Fifty ducats!"

Besides being a very successful operatic composer, (he wrote thirty-six works for the stage, of which twenty-two were represented at the Academie Royale), Rameau was an admirable performer on the organ and harpsichord, and wrote a great deal of excellent music for those two instruments. He, moreover, distinguished himself by his important discoveries in the science of harmony, which he published, defended, and explained, in twenty works, more or less copious.

"Rameau's music," says M. Castil Blaze, "marks (in France) a progress.

Not that this master improved the taste of our nation: he possessed none himself. Although he had visited the north of Italy, he had no idea that it was possible to sing better than the hack-vocalists of our Opera.

Rameau never understood anything of Italian music; accordingly he did not bring the forms of melody to perfection among us. The success of Rameau was due to the fact, that he gave more life, warmth, and movement, to our dramatic music. His ryhthmical airs (when the irregularity of the words did not trouble him too much), the free, energetic, and even daring character of his choruses, the richness of his orchestra, raised this master at last to the highest rank, which he maintained until his death. All this, however, is relative, comparative.

I must tell you in confidence, that these choruses, this orchestra, were very badly constructed, and often incorrect in point of harmony.

Observe, too, if you please, that I do not go beyond our own frontiers, lest I should meet a Scarlatti, a Handel, a Jomelli, a Pergolese, a Sebastian Bach, and twenty other rivals, too formidable for our compatriot, as regards operas, religious dramas, cantatas, and symphonies."

[Sidenote: DEATH OF RAMEAU.]

Rameau died in 1764. The Opera undertook the direction of his funeral, and caused a service for the repose of his soul to be celebrated in the church of the Oratory. Several pieces from _Castor_ and _Pollux_, and other of his lyrical works, had been arranged for the ceremony, and were introduced into the ma.s.s. The music was executed by the orchestra and chorus of the Opera, both of which were doubled for the occasion. In 1766, on the second anniversary of Rameau's death, a mortuary ma.s.s, written by Philidor, the celebrated chess player and composer (but one of those minor composers of whose works it does not enter into our limited plan to speak), was performed in the same church.

The chief singers of the Academie during the greater portion of Rameau's career as a composer, were Jeliotte, Cha.s.se, and Mademoiselle de Fel.

Jeliotte retired in 1775, and for nine years the French Opera was without a respectable tenor. Cha.s.se (baritone), and Mademoiselle de Fel, were replaced, about the same time, by Larrivee, and the celebrated Sophie Arnould, both of whom appeared afterwards in Gluck's operas.

Claude Louis de Cha.s.se, Seigneur de Ponceau, a gentleman of a good Breton family, gave up a commission in the army in 1721, to join the Opera. He succeeded equally as a singer and as an actor, and also distinguished himself by his skill in arranging tableaux. He it was who first introduced on to the French stage immense ma.s.ses of men, and taught them to manuvre with precision. Louis XV. was so pleased with the evolutions of Cha.s.se's theatrical troops in an opera represented at Fontainbleau, that he afterwards addressed him always as "General." In 1738, Cha.s.se left the Academie on the pretext that the histrionic profession was not suited to a man of gentle birth.[38] But the true reason is said to have been that having saved a considerable sum of money, he found he could afford to throw up his engagement.

However, he invested the greater part of his fortune in a speculation which failed, and was obliged to return to the stage a few years after he had declared his intention of abandoning it for ever. On his reappearance, the "gentlemanliness" of Cha.s.se's execution was noticed, but in a sarcastic, not a complimentary spirit.

"Ce n'est plus cette voix tonnante Ce ne sont plus ses grands eclats; C'est un gentilhomme qui chante Et qui ne se fatigue pas--"

were lines circulated on the occasion of the Seigneur du Ponceau's return to the Academie, where, however, he continued to sing with success for a dozen years afterwards.