A Chat with Meyerbeers Daughter

A Chat with Meyerbeer’s Daughter

Baroness Andrian, a Nonagenarian Grande Dame, Possesses Manuscript of Unfinished Opera By Her Immortal Father Which May Never Be Produced

By Dr. Elsa Bienenfeld
Music Editor, "Nieuwe Wiener Journal"

republished at www.meyerbeer.com from The American Hebrew November 2, 1928 (republished here on January 23, 2001)

It is in the reading room of the Hotel Europe, in Salzburg, in a fauteuil close to the window which affords a clear view of the garden, a lady has fallen asleep. A quaint figure, so slender and suggestive of a dried leaf rather than anything else. The face sunken in sleep is covered by a hat – a hat of the latest modern style. Fine lace flutters over the dark dress, long white kid gloves are drawn over arms and hands. The soft rustle of a newspaper and she opens her eyes. Large light brown eyes, not as colorless as the eyes of a very old woman, for they dominate – yes, they dominate – in a countenance as thin as parchment. Eyes which still seek for things that are new, and in which the fire of soul still glows.

"Have I the honor to speak with Baroness Andrian, Meyerbeer’s daughter?"

"Yes," she replies in surprise, "I am she. How did you know?"

For five years, Baroness Andrian, Meyerbeer’s second oldest daughter has been living in Salzburg, well-known to the guests of the Hotel Europe, but long since unknown to the rest of the world. To state her age? Who can do that? She herself least of all. Probably between ninety and a hundred. Meyerbeer was married in 1825.

She is still a grande dame, and her manner of conversation is perfectly charming. Whether German or French the expression is imbued with rare elegance, and the grace of the highest social culture. If, in view of her extreme old age, it were not paradoxical, one would be tempted to say that the atmosphere of her good Kinderstube still envelops this woman. As a matter of course, the perfect poise of her bearing appears noticeable or rather it is not at all noticeable; it seems so natural, so simple, so amiable as to evoke an almost magical power of attraction.

The Baroness Andrian still hears keenly and speaks readily. Astonishingly varied and timely are the things which interest this artist’s daughter. She knows all about Reinhardt and the recent performances of Schiller’s Robbers, she knows Mildenburg and her Kundry, she is familiar with the Vienna opera and Schalk’s conducting, she asks how Olszewska sings Fides and Nemeth Bertha (characters in Meyerbeer’s "Le Prophete"). It is conceivable that in this brain, cherishing memories of nearly a century, there should still be room for current happenings? What historical events, what art achievements, what personal destinies have passed over these many decades? And yet?

The Baroness speaks of her brother, who died so young she hardly knew him, of Baroness Korf, her older sister, and the wife of the Berlin painter Richter, her younger sister. As she talks her face becomes animated and peculiarly beautiful. Its profile strongly resembles that of Giacomo Meyerbeer, especially the thin, long nose.

I was called to the telephone. In the meantime, the nearly one hundred year old lady has had tea and cakes brought in. Having only quite previously jaused (the afternoon custom of taking coffee and cakes indulged in by Austrians) I am compelled to decline.

"You refuse," she exclaims, almost hurt, nor will she allow me to wait upon her.

"Well, perhaps later on, very cordially and assures me that she does not at all require assistance.

"My father," she relates, "left an opera which has never been performed. In his will he requested that the question of its performance should be decided by that one of his grandchildren who at the age of twenty-five proved to be musical."

An unproduced opera of Meyerbeer’s! What musician, what impresario would not struggle with flying colors for the privilege of first bringing out a novelty by one of the greatest masters of the lyric stage?

The Baroness continued in a hesitating tone of voice: "Of the grandchildren only one was musical and he died at the age of seventeen. The director of the Paris Opera, desired to examine the posthumous work, whose title had not been chosen. But, guided by the express sentiment of the will, the family was compelled to decline."

"And now," I asked, "after so many years when such sentiments and considerations seem no longer valid, might it not nevertheless be permissible that the work be performed? What a sensation! And what a stirring even[t] for the musical world!"

"At present," said the Baroness, and there was no trace of reproach or pain as she spoke, "an opera of Meyerbeer’s would not interest the public. Taste has changed," she shrewdly and simply observed, "nowadays, one wants other things at the opera."

As a matter of fact, Meyerbeer left opera-fragment dealing with the subject of Judith. It is not known whether it consists only of fragments or whether its main features were completed. It is well-known that only during rehearsals did the composer decide upon the definite and final form of his work. In the midst of the numerous rehearsals for L’Africaine, which had been going on for months, Meyerbeer died. The date of the premiere had already been decided upon. The final revisions were made by the French musician, Fetes, [sic] some of whose work was very clumsily done. Thus, L’Africaine was the only opera of its composer given for the first time after his death. In spite of its unexampled success, the Meyerbeer family has since steadfastly refused to permit any incomplete composition of the master be given – an example of high-mindedness and of a sense of artistic responsibility not common to all the heirs of great musical artists.

"The wish of my father clearly expressed in his will be respected by the family and nothing can change that. But my father carried on a very interesting correspondence with all the artists of his time, and not only with artists, musicians, painters and writers, but with politicians, all great statesmen, eminent men of science, and leading financiers. Regarding this correspondence, no testamentary provision was made. It is very, very interesting, a good bit of history, and it has not yet been published."

The venerable lady is immersed in thought, in the past. Visions and people seem to pass before here eyes. "Yes, this correspondence is very interesting, " she repeats again and again. "This collection is in Berlin in the hands of the Richter family, the child and the grandchildren of my sister. The family has long desired to publish them. But we wish that they be accompanied by a preface or rather a biography of Meyerbeer. Permission to publish has been rescinded by the family because there is no one capable of writing such a preface."

With these words, Baroness Andrian touched a sensitive wound in German musical history. Yes, it is true, a worthwhile biography or an adequate estimate of Meyerbeer’s work and genius has not been written. The biography written by Dr. Julius Kapp of Berlin eight years ago is a study against, rather than in favor of Meyerbeer. Wagner’s work and his words still constitute a mighty, unsurmountable mountain peak against a clear unobstructed view of those other great heights of operatic music which can well stand alongside Wagner’s powerful genius, and which possess their own grandeur, their own beauty.

To be sure, today we are much better acquainted with that curious competitive conflict in which Meyerbeer displayed by far a greater generosity and a nobler behavior than his former protégé and later bitter opponent, Richard Wagner; for the facts we are indebted to Dr. Kapp’s most industrious researches. But an adequate recognition of Meyerbeer’s operatic art -- not obtained from the viewpoint of Wagner’s music dramas, but regarded as a unique, grandiose complex in the comprehensive domain of "opera" – we still lack. Meyerbeer’s unpublished letters will not be released until the lapse of six or seven years more. There are good reasons for this decision on the part of the family. Indiscreet revelations were obnoxious to the gentleman Meyerbeer. Rather than suffer injustice, especially at the hands of Wagner who did not stop at slander, but whom he could easily have exposedby giving to the public the latter’s hypocriticial, double-tongued letters. Perhaps too, the delicate artistic sense of the fitness of things possessed by the heirs, who are loath to expose the portrayal of the man Meyerbeer, as long as that of the artist is not clearly and truthfully revealed in musical history. As for the verdict upon his works, they do not wish to see it influenced by sympathy for his personality.

I am compelled to say farewell, friends are waiting.

"Come again. Surely you will come again. Perhaps tomorrow?"

I cannot promise; our paths lead in divergent directions. But the vision of this wonderfully intellectual, venerable artist’s daughter long lingers on my memory.

(translated from the German by Jacques Mayer)

Meyerbeer Fan Club acknowledges with thanks the assistance of Dr. Richard Kaufman, who obtained a copy of this article from the Brandeis University library.