his reed-pipes and essayed the lyre, he gave
Meyerbeer this,

J'ai voulu les punir ...Tu les as surpasses!

And Meyerbeer made it,

J'ai voulu les punir ... Et tu les as surpasses!

which was hardly encouraging.

Meyerbeer had other manias as well. Perhaps the most notable was to give
to the voice musical schemes which belong by rights to the instruments.
So in the first act of _Le Prophete,_ after the chorus sings, _Veille
sur nous,_ instead of stopping to breathe and prepare for the following
phrase, he makes it repeat abruptly, _Sur nous! Sur nous!_ in unison
with the orchestral notes which are, to say the least, _a ritornello._

Again, in the great cathedral scene, instead of letting the orchestra
bring out through the voices the musical expression of Fides sobs: _Et
toi, tu ne me connais pas,_ he puts both the instruments and the voices
in the same time and on words which do not harmonize with the music at
all.

I need not speak of his immoderate love for the bassoon, an admirable
instrument, but one which it is hardly prudent to abuse.

But so far we have spoken only of trifles. Meyerbeer's music, as a witty
woman once remarked to me, is like stage scenery--it should not be
scrutinized too closely. It would be hard to find a better
characterization. Meyerbeer belonged to the theater and sought above
everything else theatrical effects. But that does not mean that he was
indifferent to details. He was a wealthy man and he used to indemnify
the theaters for the extra expense he occasioned them. He multiplied
rehearsals by trying different versions with the orchestra so as to
choose between them. He did not cast his work in bronze, as so many do,
and present it to the public _ne varietur._ He was continually feeling
his way, recasting, and seeking the better which very often was the
enemy of good. As the result of his continual researches he too
frequently turned good ideas into inferior ones. Note for example, in
_L'Etoile du Nord_, the passage, _Enfants de l'Ukraine fils du desert_.
The opening passage is lofty, determined and picturesque, but it ends
most disagreeably.

He always lived alone with no fixed place of abode. He was at Spa in the
summer and on the Mediterranean in the winter; in large cities only as
business drew him. He had no financial worries and he lived only to
continue his Penelope-like work, which showed a great love of
perfection, although he did not find the best way of at