Gustave Doret is a real artist and he never for a moment thought of keeping the Theatre du Jorat for his own exclusive use.  He dreamt of giving Gluck’s works in their original form, for they are always altered and changed according to the fancies or incompetency of the performers or directors.  They formed a large and influential committee and a substantial guarantee fund was subscribed.  Then they gave a brilliant banquet at which the Princess of Brancovan was present.  And Paderewski, one of the most enthusiastic promotors of the enterprise, delivered an eloquent address.  No one should be surprised at either his zeal or his eloquence.  Paderewski is not only a pianist; he is a man of great intellect as well,—­a great artist who permits himself the luxury of playing the piano marvellously.

As he knew that I had spent several years in studying Gluck’s works under the microscope, so to speak, Gustave Doret did me the honor to ask my advice.  His choice for the opening work was Orphee, which requires only three principals, Orpheus, Eurydice, and Love.  It has become the custom to add a fourth, a Happy Spirit, but this spirit is one of Carvalho’s inventions and has no reason for existence.

There are, however, two Orphee.  The first is Orfeo which was written in Italian, on Calzabigi’s text, and was first presented at Venice in 1761.  The role of Orpheus in this score was written for a contralto and was designed for the eunuch Quadagni.  The Venetian engravers of that day were either incompetent or, perhaps, there were none, for the scores of Gluck’s Alceste in Italian and Haydn’s Seasons were printed from type.  However that may be the score of Orfeo was engraved in Paris.  The composer Philidor corrected the proofs.  He little thought that Orfeo would ever get so far as Paris, so he appropriated the romanza in the first act and introduced it with but slight modifications into his opera-comique Le Sorcier.  Later on Marie Antoinette called Gluck to Paris and thus afforded him the opportunity for the complete development of his genius.  After he had written Iphigenie en Aulide, performed in 1774, especially for the Opera, he had the idea of adapting Orfeo for the French stage.  To tell the truth he must have thought of it before, for Orphee appeared at the Opera only three months after Iphigenie and it had been entirely rewritten in collaboration with Moline.  The contralto part had been changed to tenor and so the principal role was given to Legros.

While it may be true that the author improved this work in the French version, it is not true in every case.  There is some question whether the overture existed in the Italian score.  It is generally believed that it did, but there are old copies of this version in existence and they begin the opera with the funeral chorus and show no overture at all.  This overture, although the Mercure de France treats it as a “beautiful symphonic piece which serves as a good introduction to the work,” in reality does not resemble the style of the rest at all.  It in no way prepares for that admirable chorus at the beginning—­unequaled of its kind—­which Orpheus’s broken hearted cry of “Eurydice!  Eurydice!” makes so pathetic.