Breaking Prejudice

Prologue: Summer, 1870

We regret to inform you, that despite our earlier inclination, we find your work unacceptable to perform at this time.

Sincerely,

L'Opera National

That was all. After weeks of complements and correspondence this was all they could bother themselves to write. I tried not to be crushed or bitter; they behaved no worse than any other opera house to which I had submitted my score. The only difference was that I thought this time it would finally work. They had accepted my score without a meeting. All that remained was to sign the contract. Looking back I realized I was foolish to have gone. I should have asked my brother to go in my stead. I am not sure if he would have agreed to the deception, but I should have at least asked.

I arrived for the contract signing, and there was an immediate hush when I entered the room. All contracts were hastily stowed away in folders. Then followed some awkward babbling on the part of the managers, during which time I was humiliated by having to assure them that I was, indeed, L. Sauvon, the composer of the work they had just been admiring. At that point one of the gentlemen in the room seemed to collect himself and reproached me for having given them no notice of my being a lady. The conference ended some five minutes later, after some unnecessary preliminary questions about the staging of my opera. I was then told I would hear their final decision in a week or two.

I new what the decision would be before I even left the room. In a letter they had told me that they would love to have the premier rights to my opera, but that was before they knew I was a woman. No one would ever agree to perform a full scale opera by a female composer; it simply was not done. Fanny Mendelssohn, herself, had never accomplished such a feat.

I tried to comfort myself. I tried to believe that this time did not hurt any worse than all the other times I had been rejected, but it did. This time I had caught a glimpse of the contracts, already signed by the management, waiting there on the table; they lacked only my signature to bind my work to production. But that could never be. They did not want my signature. They wanted Luc Sauvon or Lumiere Sauvon or maybe Lucius Sauvon, but there was no place for a Lucette Sauvon in the world of musical composition.

The carriage slowed, and I hastily tucked the hurtful note away in my book. I looked out the window at the impressive façade of the Opera Populaire. I sighed as I thought what my new life would be. I had been living with my brother, Paul, and his wife. Paul was a dear, but I could never stand Celeste, my sister-in-law. After my latest rejection it became clear that I would never achieve my dream of keeping myself as a composer. Celeste had wanted to be rid of me for some time, and it did not seem fair to disturb my brother's domestic life any longer while I chased a dream. I applied for and received a post as a practice pianist for the corps de ballet at the Opera Populaire. It was by no means an ideal job for me, but it would keep music in my life and that is what I wanted right now.

The carriage stopped. I descended and the porter lowered my bag. The bag contained most of my clothing, pens and lined paper for composition, and little else. I had been told that a "living space" was part of my compensation for working at the opera, but I did not know how large that "living space" would be, and so I left most of my personal effects in my brother's attic. I did, however, bring my portfolio containing the majority of my work. I now held it protectively under my left arm as I took my carpet bag with my right.

I was to report to a Madam Giry upon my arrival. I asked the a porter where I could find her, and he wrote down precise directions to her room. At first I thought this superfluous, but as I went on my way I was glad of it. The opera house was enormous. After what seemed like an eternity navigating a veritable labyrinth of passages, I arrived at the door indicated by the porter as Madam Giry's. I gave a brisk knock, and prepared myself to meet the lady who would introduce me to the Opera Populaire.