"Prophète," the bust of the composer was crowned with laurel by the performers.
The family, in accordance with the curious European custom, sent around to their friends a circular worded as follows:—
"Sir,—Madame Meyerbeer (wid-
ow); Mlles. Cécile and Cornélie Mey-
erbeer; the Baron and Baroness De
Korf, and Son; M. and Madame
Georges Beer; M. and Madame Jules
Beer and Children; M. and Madame
Alexandre Oppenheim; M. and Ma-
dame S. de Haber, Madlle. Laure de
Haber; and Madlle. Anna Eberty,
have the honor to announce to you
the sad loss they have just suffered by
the death of M. Giacomo Meyerbeer,
their husband, father, father-in-law,
grandfather, uncle, and great-uncle,
who died at Paris on the 2nd May,
1864, aged seventy-two."
Meyerbeer was, up to the last, full of plans for the future, and while getting "L'Africaine" ready was looking for the libretto of a comic opera to compose "for amusement," as a repose between grander works. It is said that he has left another completed opera, on the Biblical story of Judith and Holofernes; and he also had a vague idea of writing a grand historical opera on an English subject, the idea having been suggested by a visit to the Princess Theatre, London, when Charles Kean was playing, with unusual scenic accessories, Shakspeare's "Henry VIII." The proposed opera was to have been equally as grand a work as the "Huguenots," and the peculiarities of old English music—the style of melody of Locke, Purcell, and Arne—were to have been imitated with that skill of which Meyerbeer was so eminently a master. He never would write an oratorio, because he had no hope of excelling Mendelssohn in that branch of musical art. His last composition was an aria written to Italian words for a Spanish lady-friend, the Señorita Zapater; and he was about to arrange the accompaniment for the orchestra when his last illness came on.
Personally, Giacomo Meyerbeer had many characteristics which were not inviting. He was fond of money, yet willing to lavish it whenever Art demanded the sacrifice. He took snuff, and wore green spectacles, was careless, often shabby in his dress, and would stroll through the streets of Paris wearing a wretched hat, inwardly composing music as he walked along; on grand occasions, however, he would go to the opposite extreme in matters of toilet, and appear radiant with the numerous decorations presented to him by the different sovereigns of Europe. He knew the power of the press, and was not too delicate to invite the leading critics to elaborate dinners at the Trois Frères the night before a first performance.
It is not intended here to enter into a critical or scientific analysis of Meyerbeer as a composer. As far as the present development of Art would indicate, his name seems to us destined to go down to posterity encircled by a fadeless halo of glory; and at the same time we must remember that there have been other composers who, though now forgotten, yet in their time and at their death have similarly impressed their contemporaries. But certain it is, that, in our day and generation, and at least during the life of every one now existing, the fame of Meyerbeer will be brilliant indeed, and the music of the "Robert," the "Huguenots," and the "Prophète" will challenge the admiration and love of all susceptible to the influence of the grandest and noblest strains that musical science has yet evoked.
