by Georg Predota

Offenbach’s family

Offenbach’s leading ladies – Marie Garnier, Zulma Bouffar, Lea Silly, Rose Deschamps

Offenbach and his son Auguste

Hortense Schneider
It's all about the classical music composers and their works from the last 400 years and much more about music. Hier erfahren Sie alles über die klassischen Komponisten und ihre Meisterwerke der letzten vierhundert Jahre und vieles mehr über Klassische Musik.
by Georg Predota

Offenbach’s family

Offenbach’s leading ladies – Marie Garnier, Zulma Bouffar, Lea Silly, Rose Deschamps

Offenbach and his son Auguste

Hortense Schneider
by Maureen Buja June 29th, 2026

Jacques Offenbach
Jump to 1858. Jacques Offenbach set the story, written by Hector Crémieux and Ludovic Halévy, first as a two-act opéra bouffon at the Théâtre des Bouffes-Parisiens, Paris, on 21 October 1858. Over the next 12 years, Offenbach revised and expanded it to become a four-act “opéra féerie”, given at the Théâtre de la Gaîté, Paris, on 7 February 1874. In this later, very successful version, Offenbach made his name around the world.

Poster for the Paris Revival of 1878
Offenbach has taken the story of Orpheus and Eurydice and set it on its head. Orpheus isn’t the son of Apollo but just a countryside violin teacher; he and his wife Eurydice mutually detest each other. When Eurydice is abducted by Pluto, Orpheus is glad she’s gone. It takes Public Opinion (who says she’s the guardian of morality). Eurydice is happy to have the God of Death as her lover. Orpheus wants to pursue the shepherdess Chloë, but is harried by Public Opinion, who will ruin his violin teaching career unless he goes to rescue his wife.
Meanwhile, up in Olympus, reports of Pluto’s beautiful new woman are getting around. Diane is lamenting the loss of Actaeon, who Jupiter has turned into a stag to protect her reputation. Cupid and Venus have returned from their own amatory adventures, and everyone’s in revolt about the tedium of Olympus and their boring diet of ambrosia and nectar. They’re not fond of Jupiter’s reign, either. When Orpheus arrives with Public Opinion, Jupiter decides to go to the Underworld to sort things out, and all the gods decide to go with him as a holiday.
Eurydice is bored in the Underworld. She’s been locked up by Pluto and only has a country bumpkin for a jailer. Jupiter finds Eurydice and, in the guise of a golden fly, sings a love duet with her (he can only buzz in his fly guise). He’s able to free her, and they go to find the other gods in the Underworld.

Edmond Morin: Scenes from Orphée aux enfers, ca 1850 (Gallica, btv1b53117028m)
They join the other gods who are having an enormous party, or, from the description, perhaps an orgy, where, as one writer puts it, ‘ambrosia, nectar, and propriety are nowhere to be seen’. Eurydice is in disguise as a Bacchante (a wild woman who follows Bacchus). A dance is called for, and Jupiter leads everyone in a minuet, which is boring. The gods then come up with a fast dance in honour of the Underworld, the Galop infernal.
Orpheus arrives with Public Opinion. He’s permitted to walk out with Eurydice but is forced to look back when Jupiter throws an unexpected lightning bolt, so he jumps and looks back. Eurydice vanishes. Jupiter then proclaims that she will belong to the god Bacchus and become one of his priestesses. Orpheus is free of his hated wife, Pluto doesn’t want her back, and all ends resolved, except, perhaps, for Eurydice, who is not consulted on her wishes.
This opera was a box office success but, critically, was received with mixed opinion: some hated the change to a beloved story and librettists’ disrespect for classical mythology, while others found it ‘unprecedented, splendid, outrageous, gracious, delightful, witty, amusing, successful, perfect, tuneful’. The scene in Olympus ‘was widely seen as a veiled satire of the court and government of Napoleon III, Emperor of the French’. The opera made Offenbach’s name, rescued his opera company from financial problems, and broke all box office records. It was staged widely through France and then internationally, and continues to hit the stage in the 21st century.
The Galop Infernal in the final act is, of course, what is now known more familiarly as the Can-Can. The can-can was a dance in the musical halls of Paris starting in the 1840s, developing from the quadrille, a dance for 4 or more couples. It gradually evolved into a dance that featured high kicks, splits (or jump splits) and cartwheels, all the while the dancer’s long skirts and petticoats were being vigorously shaken. Eventually, the couple-pairing of the original can-can gave way to the chorus line so familiar today.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec: Troupe de Mlle Églantine, 1895, showing the Can-Can
By the end of the 19th century, the French cabarets such as the Moulin Rouge and Folies Bergère used the Galop infernal to accompany the dance, and the association continues today. In actuality, many different composers have written music for the dance, including Franz Lehár and Cole Porter.
This recording was made in June 1960 by René Leibowitz, leading the Orchestre de la Société des Concerts de Paris.

René Leibowitz
René Leibowitz (1913–1972) was a composer in the Second Viennese style and devoted follower of Arnold Schoenberg, and a conductor of a wide range of music, from Beethoven to Gershwin. Starting in the 1950s, Leibowitz conducted recordings of seven complete operas, including Orphée aux enfers, which were well received. In his later years, he recorded a set of Beethoven symphonies and was among the first to follow Beethoven’s metronome markings. Although he wasn’t the first to record this, his version was praised for its ensemble playing. As a teacher, his most important pupils were Pierre Boulez and Jacques-Louis Monod, each of whom followed a different path in 20th-century music. At his death, Leibowitz left a compositional estate of nearly 100 pieces.
The Orchestre de la Société des Concerts de Paris (or, more accurately, the Orchestre de la Société des Concerts du Conservatoire) was established in 1828 and comprised the professors of the Paris Conservatoire and their pupils. It closed in 1967 and became the basis for the Orchestre de Paris, which still plays today.

Performed by
René Leibowitz
Orchestre de la Société des Concerts de Paris
Recorded in 1960
Official Website
by Georg Predota, Interlude

Jacques Offenbach
Medically speaking, gout is a form of inflammatory arthritis “characterized by recurrent attacks of a red, tender, hot and swollen joint, caused by deposition of monosodium urate monohydrate crystals.” Basically, this means that the patient has persistently elevated levels of uric acid in the blood, resulting from a combination of diet, other health problems, and genetic factors. The ailment was historically known as “the disease of kings” or “rich man’s disease,” and it tended to carry a mild moral stigma, as it “supposedly indicated that the patient habitually over-indulged in good living.” And while the disease is easily treated today, acute attacks of gout were rather common throughout the ages. A 17th-century physician writes, “the sufferer would wake in the night with such exquisite pain, that he could not bear the weight of the bed sheet or the jar of a person walking across the room. Fever, restlessness, dyspepsia, and irritability would follow… The condition of the patient would deteriorate over time, resulting in death from renal failure.” In the case of Jacques Offenbach, who died on 5 October 1880, the cause of death was established as heart failure brought on by acute gout.

Giulietta act from the 1881 première of Les contes d’Hoffmann
Since Offenbach had a long-standing bad cough, which he tried to cure with frequent trips to various spas, doctors have suggested that he “also had a low-grade tuberculous condition of the lungs.” When Offenbach returned to Paris from a highly successful tour of the United States in 1876, giving a series of more than 40 concerts in New York and Philadelphia, he set to work on the score of the fantastic opera Les contes d’Hoffmann. He had first seen the play, written by Barbier and Michel Carré in 1851, and now an adaptation was handed to Offenbach by Barbier. The composer had a premonition that he would not see the work completed and staged, but he did attend some rehearsals. Already seriously ill, he was brought to the theatre in a wheelchair. Shortly before his death he wrote to a colleague, “Hurry up and stage my opera. I have not much time left, and my only wish is to attend the opening night.” In the event, he died on 5 October 1880, with the manuscript in his hand.

Jacques Offenbach: Les contes d’Hoffmann
Les contes d’Hoffmann is based on three short stories by E. T. A. Hoffmann, who is also the main protagonist of the story. Set in Germany and Italy in the early 19th century, the Prologue finds the poet Hoffmann in a tavern near the opera house in Nuremberg. He is waiting for the opera singer Stella, who sent him a letter that she will join him after her performance finishes. However, Councilor Lindorf, who also loves Stella, steals the letter. While Hoffmann is waiting, he tells his friend Nicklaussee about his past lost loves.

Olympia act from the 1881 première of Les contes d’Hoffmann
In Act I we meet Olympia, a life-sized mechanical doll. Invented by the mad scientists Spalanzani and Coppelius, they also sell Hoffmann a pair of magic glasses that lets him perceive Olympia as human, and he falls in love with her. One day, Coppelius gets angry and breaks the doll. Act 2 features the sickly singer Antonia, and her father forbids her to sing. Hoffmann falls in love with her, but then Dr. Miracle advises Antonia to sing, causing her death. In Act 3, Hoffmann falls in love with the courtesan Giulietta, and is convinced that she returns his affections. However, Giulietta seduced him under orders from Captain Dapertutto, who promises her a diamond if she steals Hoffmann’s reflection from a mirror. Once she succeeds in getting Hoffmann’s reflection, she immediately abandons the poet. The Epilogue returns us to the tavern in Nuremberg, and a drunk Hoffmann tells Stella to go away. As she departs with Lindorf, Nicklausse reveals that she is the Music reclaiming Hoffmann as a poet. “Everyone learns from love, and learns from tears.”

Elegy to Offenbach in the illustrated
English magazine, Punch.
Offenbach died four months before the premiere, after completing substantial portions of the piano score and orchestrating the prologue and first act. Offenbach’s son Auguste, with help from Ernest Guiraud, completed the work, and the premiere took place at the Opéra-Comique on 10 February 1881. That particular completion appears to have been far removed from the composer’s intentions as various manuscripts were subsequently discovered after World War II. These sources include rough drafts, outlines, and fair copies completed in Offenbach’s hand, as well as vocal parts made by his copyists. These discoveries led to the publication of a brand-new edition, and additional discoveries with a newly paired emphasis on authenticity spawned further revisions of the musical text. The musical world was led to believe that the 1992 edition by Michael Kaye, first performed at the L.A. Opera, would be the definitive text. However, additional authentic music was discovered and published in 1999. Finally, in 2011, two competing publishing companies, in France and Germany, respectively, decided to “release a joint edition reflecting and reconciling the research of recent decades.” Only time will tell if this definitive edition of Les contes d’Hoffmann will need to undergo further revisions and changes in the future.
“The only love affair I have ever had was with music.”
Maurice Ravel
The history of classical music, however, is full of fabulously gifted individuals with slightly more earthy ambitions. Love stories of classical composers are frequently retold within a romanticized narrative of sugarcoated fairy tales. To be sure, happily-ever-after stories do on rare occasions take place, but it is much more likely that classical romances lead to some rather unhappy endings. Johannes Brahms had an overriding fear of commitment, Claude Debussy drove his wife into an attempt at suicide, Francis Poulenc severely struggled with his sexual identity, and Percy Grainger was heavily into whips and bondage. And that’s only the beginning! The love life of classical composers will sometimes make you weep, or alternately shout out with joy or anguish. You might even cringe with embarrassment as we try to go beyond the usual headlines and niceties to discover the psychological makeup and the societal and cultural pressures driving these relationships. Classical composer’s love stories are not for the faint hearted; they are heightened reflections of humanity at its best and worst. Accompanying these stories of love and lust with the compositions they inspired, we are able to see composers and their relationships in a completely new light.
Let's start with Jacques Offenbach.

Offenbach’s family

Offenbach’s leading ladies – Marie Garnier, Zulma Bouffar, Lea Silly, Rose Deschamps

Offenbach and his son Auguste

Hortense Schneider