Dr. Veron's advent, Meyerbeer's "Robert le Diable" was, what they
call in theatrical parlance, "underlined," or, if not underlined, at
least definitely accepted. Only one work of his had at that time been
heard in Paris, "Il Crociato in Egitto."

It is difficult to determine, after so many years, whether Dr. Veron,
notwithstanding his artistic instincts, was greatly smitten with the
German composer's masterpiece. It has often been argued that he was not,
because he insisted upon an indemnity of forty thousand francs from the
Government towards the cost of its production. In the case of a man like
Veron, this proves nothing at all. He may have been thoroughly convinced
of the merits of "Robert le Diable," and as thoroughly confident of its
success with the public, though no manager, not even the most
experienced, can be; it would not have prevented him from squeezing the
forty thousand francs from the minister on the plea that the performance
of the work was imposed upon him by a treaty of his predecessor. To Dr.
Veron's credit be it said that he might have saved himself the hard
tussle he had with the minister by simply applying for the money to
Meyerbeer himself, who would have given it without a moment's
hesitation, rather than see the success of "Robert le Diable"
jeopardized by inefficient mounting, although up to the last Meyerbeer
could never make up his mind whether magnificent scenery and gorgeous
dresses were an implied compliment or the reverse to the musical value
of his compositions. _A propos_ of this there is a very characteristic
story. At one of the final dress-rehearsals of "Robert le Diable,"
Meyerbeer felt much upset. At the sight of that beautiful set of the
cloister of Sainte-Rosalie, where the nuns rise from their tombs, at the
effect produced by the weird procession, Meyerbeer came up to Veron.

"My dear director," he said, "I perceive well enough that you do not
depend upon the opera itself; you are, in fact, running after a
spectacular success."

"Wait till the fourth act," replied Veron, who was above all logical.

The curtain rose upon the fourth act, and what did Meyerbeer behold?
Instead of the vast, grandiose apartment he had conceived for Isabella,
Princess of Sicily, he found a mean, shabby set, which would have been
deemed scarcely good enough for a minor theatre.

"Decidedly, my dear director," said Meyerbeer, with a bitter twinge in
his features and voice, "I perceive well enough t