''To have heard Manon is to have heard the whole of Massenet,'' wrote an imprudent contributor to the fifth edition of Grove who obviously had never heard Esclarmonde, which owes more to Meyerbeer and Wagner than any other of his two dozen or so operas. ''His orchestration, often piquant, was unambitious and varied little from scene to scene,'' claimed the same writer—an unfortunate comment, as can be heard from the contrast between the exquisite writing at the start of Act 2 and the violent prelude to the next act, the grandiosity of the prologue or some almost Puccinian lyricism.
Esclarmonde, proclaimed Empress (with magic powers) on condition that she veil her face from men until the age of 20 (though how old she is to start with is not divulged), falls madly in love with the knight Roland, who, after yielding to her magic arts, has to return home to fight the Saracens. (Esclarmonde's cry as she buckles on his sword, ''Moi, je t'en armerai!'', recalls Sieglinde's great cry ''Siegmund, so nenn' ich dich!''.) The ensuing action becomes more and more involved, with an invincible sword that will shatter if a vow of secrecy is broken, Roland refusing the hand of the daughter of the king whose lands he has saved (by a victory that takes him all of three minutes!), rites of exorcism and of renunciation, and finally a happy ending at a tournament.
Meaty stuff, and Bonynge, in his best form ever, procures a full-blooded performance from a well-chosen cast, aided by a suitably vivid recording that shows no sign at all of its age. It is as well to have the libretto before one's eyes while listening, however, as Sutherland's words are not easy to understand, even though her enunciation is better than sometimes; but the precision, brilliance and sweetness of her voice in the prominently featured upper register (rather less steady lower down) compensates for much. Equally, Aragall's French is the least idiomatic of all the cast, with too many false vowels; but after a poor start, missing his very first note and being distinctly flat on his first entry, he sings with a passion and heroic ringing tone that are hard to resist. The performances by Louis Quilico and Clifford Grant are splendid (both with exemplary enunciation), and the chorus is excellent. It is good to see this still little-known opera back in the catalogue when it is as well done as here.'