Famous composers and their works, Vol. 3

by Unknown

ANDRÉ ERNEST MODESTE GRÉTRY

André Ernest Modeste Grétry, the author of “Richard Cœur de Lion,” was born at Liège on the 11th of February, 1741. At the age of seven years he was placed by his father, a poor musician and one of the violinists of the Collegiate Church of St. Denis, as a chorister in that church.

The unfortunate little boy, who was of a delicate constitution and who suffered from hemorrhages throughout the whole of his laborious existence, was obliged to walk six times every day from his home to the church—a distance of about a mile—in order to take part in the services. Matins were sung, even in the most rigorous days of winter, between five and six o’clock in the morning. One day the child arrived somewhat late at this early service, and although he was not to blame, the choir-master obliged him to remain upon his knees for two hours in the midst of his fellow choristers. This punishment had such an effect upon little Grétry, who was naturally of a timid disposition, that he would awake several times during the night in a state of fear lest he should arrive too late. “Without considering the hour or the weather, I would often start off as early as three o’clock in the morning, through snow and ice, and would sit down at the door of the church, warming my hands at my little lantern, which I held on my knees. In this way I used to sleep more peacefully, because I was sure that they could not open the door without waking me.”

Grétry finally emancipated himself from this choir, which was a veritable scholastic place of torment, having learned scarcely anything of music. His first professor of any importance was the organist of the Church of St. Pierre at Liège, M. Renekin, who gave him lessons in counterpoint for two years, and kindly encouraged him in his early essays in instrumental music. The young musician also studied under Moreau, a talented musician and a methodical and conscientious professor.

In order to finish his musical studies and because of an ardent desire to visit other countries, Grétry conceived the idea of going to Rome to establish himself there. The idea of separation was not a pleasant one for his father. He opposed it for two reasons: his son’s delicate health, and the expense which would necessarily be incurred. However, there was no choice but to yield before the determination expressed by this young aspirant to musical glory; and Grétry, who was then eighteen years of age, started from Liège for Rome. He set forth on foot—being destitute of the means which would enable him to make this long journey by coach or on horseback—after having seen performed a mass of his own composition, in recognition of which a present was made him by the canons of St. Denis.

With a small stock of money and a pair of pistols given him by his grandfather to defend himself against the highwaymen—there were highwaymen then, and many of them on the roads of beautiful Italy—Grétry set out with a guide named Remacle, who, in spite of his sixty years, was accustomed to travel on foot from Liège to Rome, and from Rome to Liège, regularly twice a year. His ostensible profession was that of a guide, but he also followed the less respectable and more remunerative calling of smuggler. Remacle fraudulently carried into Rome quantities of fine Flanders lace, while from Rome he brought back relics and Popes’ slippers which he supplied to the convents in the Netherlands. Whether these slippers had really been worn by his Holiness and whether the relics had the origin ascribed to them by the honest Remacle, it is not necessary to inquire here: rumor said so, and by faith we attain salvation.

When the day fixed for the departure of the young musician arrived, the guide went to the house of Grétry’s parents. His coming might be likened to the appearance of a spectre to this poor couple, so deeply affected were they by the departure of their child. Without a word the little fellow laid hold of his valise and strapped it on his back; then knelt down with his hands clasped before his father and mother and asked their blessing. “God bless thee, dear child!” were the simple words pronounced by the broken-hearted parents, and then the traveller disappeared with his guide.

The son was not less moved than his father and mother, whose kindly faces were bathed in tears and wore the ashy hue of death. “As soon as I was able to think calmly,” writes the musician, “I felt tears trickling down my cheeks, and I said: ‘O God, grant that thy poor creature may one day become the support and consolation of his unfortunate parents!’” How touching is this simple scene, how eloquently does it speak in favor of this patriarchal household which Grétry, by his genius, has made illustrious; and how strongly are our sympathies moved by the immortality earned for it by this most sensible of sons!

The brave youth, who was accompanied by a young surgeon, walked regularly ten leagues a day with his knapsack upon his back. Those were hard day’s marches. At Trèves the two young men began to fear that they would not be able to go any farther, but their energetic determination gave them strength, and they continued their journey, still at the rate of ten leagues a day. They passed through the Tyrol, singing the while, and braved the dangers of the avalanches, and a few days later stood in rapt admiration of the beautiful land of the Milanese. They afterward visited the artistic curiosities of Florence. Every part of Italy was in their eyes an enchanted region. At last Grétry saluted the Eternal City, which he entered by the Porta del Popolo. He had ample time to make himself thoroughly familiar with Rome and to carefully study the works of the Italian masters, then so greatly renowned; for he remained at least nine years in Italy. Here he made his early efforts in sacred and in theatrical music, but without achieving any brilliant success. He was then feeling his way, and did not as yet know for what particular style of music he was best fitted. Chance, however, brought to his notice a comic opera by Monsigny, and he at once felt that his true vocation was the music best suited to comedy. But as Paris was the only field which offered him the means of making himself known to advantage in this branch of musical art, he resolved to settle in the French capital.

In this biography of Grétry it would be unjust to omit the name of the Swedish Envoy, the Comte de Creutz, who raised the musician’s hopes and helped him to continue his struggle at times when he felt greatly depressed. M. de Creutz had divined the degree of genius exhibited in the early attempts of our musician, although they had not been publicly successful, and it is fitting that his name should be mentioned in connection with the successes of his illustrious protégé. Grétry never lost an opportunity of testifying his deep gratitude to M. de Creutz.

When, after his long sojourn in Italy, the composer was guided by his lucky star to settle in Paris, he had neither harpsichord nor pianoforte, and it appears that for some time he pursued his studies without having one of these instruments which are of the first necessity for a composer. It was upon a clavichord lent him by M. Louet that the composer wrote: “Les Mariages Samnites,” “Lucile,” “Le Huron,” “Le Tableau Parlant,” “Le Sphinx,” “Les Deux Avares,” “L’Amitié à l’Epreuve,” and “Zemire et Azor.”

In the clavichord, which was the predecessor of the spinet, brass rods are used instead of pen nibs to make the chords vibrate. Grétry’s clavichord, which may be found in the interesting collection of the Instrumental Museum at the Paris Conservatoire, possesses only four octaves and two notes, as was usually the case with the clavichords of the seventeenth century. We asked permission of M. Pillaut, the learned conservator of the Instrumental Museum, to take a photograph of this clavichord, which is not only highly interesting in itself, but because it was the faithful confidant of the master’s inspiration. M. Pillaut gave the permission asked, and we think it right to tender him our thanks.

GRETRY’S CLAVICHORD AT THE INSTRUMENTAL MUSEUM AT THE PARIS CONSERVATOIRE.
From a photograph made by special permission.

Grétry passed the last years of his life at Montmorency, near Paris, in a house called the Hermitage, where the celebrated writer Jean Jacques Rousseau lived for some time and died. Here, retired from the world, Grétry received his faithful friends of the last days, notably D’Alayrac and Boieldieu, who lived in a cottage near the Hermitage. The old master loved to talk about his art to those who succeeded him in the career, and he lavished upon them the precious counsels of his experience. It was in acknowledgment of this great service that Boieldieu dedicated to Grétry his charming Opera-Comique, “Jean de Paris.” During the latter part of his life Grétry composed nothing, and after the death of his wife, which occurred March 17, 1807, he very rarely visited the theatre. In 1812 Grétry partially rewrote his score of Elisa, which was his last bit of composition. On Sept. 12, 1813, feeling very ill, he wrote the following letter to M. Le Breton, life secretary of the department of Fine Arts at the Institute:—

“My dear colleague: It is impossible for me to be present at the Institute for the judgment of the musical prize. On arriving at the Hermitage, still convalescent, I was attacked with a hemorrhage which lasted three days, and from which I lost a pint and a half of blood, leaving me extremely weak. I now await the end of my long sufferings. I am resigned, but in leaving this life, I feel that one of my keenest regrets will be never again to meet my dear colleagues whom I love no less than I honor them. I pray you to let them see this letter. Adieu, my dear colleague; I embrace you with all my heart.

Grétry.”

GRÉTRY’S TOMB AT THE HERMITAGE.

A few days later, Sept. 26, 1813, the author of Richard Cœur de Lion passed away. The funeral ceremony took place in Paris, with great solemnity. The pall-bearers were Méhul, Berton, Marsallier and Bouilly.

Grétry’s heart has been the object of much discussion, and even a tedious law suit. The composer had often expressed in his lifetime the desire that his heart should be offered to his native city, Liège. M. Flamand, one of Grétry’s nephews, having obtained from the prefect of police at Paris the authorization to have the body exhumed in order to send the heart to Liège, wrote to the mayor of that city and offered him this precious token of the illustrious composer’s ardent love for his native country. The mayor responded in such terms as to cause M. Flamand to reconsider his proposition, and the heart was kept at the Hermitage.

In 1821 the city of Liège reclaimed the bequest which had been made it, but this time M. Flamand absolutely refused to deliver it up. A lawsuit followed which was decided by the court substantially as follows: that since the extraction of Grétry’s heart had been demanded by the family and granted by public authority solely for the purpose of paying homage to the city of Liege, which had prepared a monument to receive it, therefore it should be withdrawn from the garden of the Hermitage, and sent to the commissioners of the city of Liège. This decree was not carried out. The prefect of the Seine and the minister of the interior objected. The question was then carried before the council of state, and in 1828, fifteen years after Grétry’s death, the precious leaden box containing the heart of the illustrious composer was carried to Liège.

GRÉTRY’S HERMITAGE.
Formerly inhabited by Jean Jacques Rousseau.

GRÉTRY’S HERMITAGE.
View from the garden behind house.

MEMORIAL CHAPEL.
Erected by M. and Mme. Flamand Grétry in Enghien, Montmorency, to receive the heart of the illustrious Grétry.

INTERIOR OF CHAPEL.

We cannot close this biography of the most celebrated musician of Liège—one of the most musical cities in Europe—without mentioning the Musée Grétry at the conservatory in the capital of the Walloon country. This most interesting museum, where may be seen the objects which either formerly belonged to the celebrated composer or serve to remind us of him, is the personal work of the present director of the Liège Conservatoire, the learned and distinguished composer, Theodore Radoux. We have had the pleasure of visiting this museum—a veritable shrine—accompanied by M. Radoux, who described the various objects exhibited, in a most lucid and instructive manner.

Grétry left Rome for Geneva in the month of January, 1767. A short time before, Favart’s “Isabelle et Gertrude” had been represented at the Comédie Italienne in Paris. It was a success, but the music seemed to be weak. Grétry seized upon this comedy and wrote new airs for it. “Isabelle et Gertrude” was represented at Geneva, and was very well received.

In Paris Grétry was present at a representation of “Dardanus,” by Rameau, which he did not altogether understand, and which, as he admitted later, he found to be almost wearisome. He was still too full of the memories of Italian music—although it had exercised very little real influence on his genius—to be able to thoroughly appreciate at its proper value this essentially dramatic French music, which was at times somewhat crude as to harmony and melodious expression, but always suited to the action. Nevertheless, although this work of the immediate predecessor of Gluck did not appeal to him strongly, Grétry was not long in recognizing its true merit. He told himself that Music, although not merely the humble handmaid of Poesy, with which she is allied, ought to aid her to express her feelings with due effect, and that consequently theatrical music should, as far as possible, be subject to the rules of pure elocution. Following the example of Lully—for whom Grétry always expressed great admiration—he was wont to attend the Théâtre-Français to find the notes, so to speak, of spoken declamation, and unite it intimately with song and melody. Moreover, the difficulty he experienced in finding a piece to set to music gave him a good deal of leisure; indeed the first two years of Grétry’s stay in Paris were devoted to a search for a poem. At last he obtained from an unknown poet named du Rozoy, “Les Mariages Samnites,” a piece in three acts which was destined for the Comédie Italienne but was not accepted at that theatre and was afterwards rewritten for the Opera. The work was represented there, but with great difficulty and bitter mortification for the composer.

This essay, which failed to impress the public of the Académie de Musique, was followed by “Le Huron,” a comedy in two acts by Marmontel, which was represented for the first time at the Italiens on the 20th of August, 1769. The piece was unanimously and we might say even enthusiastically applauded, both by the audience and by the critics. Above all, the care taken by the composer as to good prosody and the proper feeling peculiar to the dramatis personæ, was greatly applauded. The songs were considered very happy, although they did not exhibit that graceful variety of form and contour then characteristic of the music which the public were accustomed to hear at the Italiens by masters like Piccinni, Pergolèse, Jomelli, Galuppi, etc.

After “Le Huron” was given “Lucile,” also a poem by Marmontel, in which a quartet on the words: “Où peut-on être mieux qu’au sein de sa famille?” was long celebrated. But in reality “Le Tableau Parlant,” the comic opera which followed “Lucile,” consisting of one act in verse by Ansaume, produced at the Italiens, was the starting point of Grétry’s fortune. While fully preserving the good humor of the subject of the piece and the words which are sung during its progress, the composer succeeded in clothing the work of the author of the words with impressive sonorousness, the telling and well-chosen passages being at the same time instinct with frank gaiety.

From that day forth, it may be said that the celebrated composer thoroughly realized his capacity, and it was easy to see that he would take his place in the first rank of comedy in music.

Fac-simile musical manuscript written by Grétry; from Cherubini’s collection.
The name in upper left-hand corner was written by Cherubini.

Grétry did not and could not succeed in grand opera music. Nature had not endowed him with the lofty sentiment of lyric tragedy; he would have needed a courage bordering upon temerity or a high-strung imagination to dare to measure himself with the formidable Gluck, surnamed the Æschylus of music. But if lyric tragedy was a closed book to him, he nevertheless succeeded at the theatre of the Grand Opera in lyric comedy, which he was the first to bring to the notice of the Academy. Grétry himself takes care to tell us this fact in the following passage of his book: “When I introduced lyric comedy on the stage of the opera, I was looked upon as a culpable innovator, and yet I saw that the public was weary of tragedy, which was always on the boards. I heard many lovers of dancing murmur because their favorite art was only allowed to play a subsidiary and frequently a useless rôle in tragedy. I saw the managers who were desirous of adopting the best possible productions, and were feeling their way, unsuccessfully revive fragments or pastorals of former times, and I said as often as I had the opportunity that two styles of music placed in opposition lent each other mutual charms; that the French comedians alternately produced tragedy and comedy, and that if they were obliged to give up these two styles they would not know what to do.” It would appear that the public of the Grand Opera shared Grétry’s opinion, as the composer gave several comedies to that theatre which were brilliantly successful, in particular “La Caravane du Caire,” which had a long and fashionable run. This piece was represented for the first time before the Court at Fontainebleau in October, 1783, and a little later at the Opera. At court, as before the general public, the piece and its music gave the greatest delight to the spectators. The short but brilliant and extremely graceful overture of this work speedily became popular, not only in France but all over Europe. The morceaux of song are gay but elevated and are all agreeable, although the public would have liked them better had they been more strongly tinged with oriental color than they are. If Grétry did not possess the dramatic afflatus in lyric tragedy, he exhibited in all his operas of a semi-character an elevated style which, combined with his exceptional wealth of melody, places him in the first rank of the French masters of the last century. He gave to pathetic scenes a wonderful sublimity, an admirable instance of which may be found in the beautiful prison scene in “Richard Cœur de Lion.” In this work, the fruit of such a rich imagination, Grétry has exhibited the full measure of his genius and all the talent of which he was possessed as a harmonist. It is interesting to remark in regard to this opera that Grétry made of certain portions of the celebrated ballad, “Une Fievre brûlante,” a sort of leit motiv after the manner of Wagner. Indeed, this fragmentary theme returns again and again under different aspects at least nine times in the course of the score. But we shall see later that Grétry was Wagner’s predecessor not only for the leit motiv, but that he was also the first to suggest an invisible orchestra such as that of the theatre of Bayreuth. As to the characteristic theme of “Richard Cœur de Lion” (the fragmentary ballad considered in its transformations as playing the part of the modern leit motiv), it is curious to notice that Grétry used it in this comic opera with exactly the same idea as Wagner in his lyric dramas. Whenever allusion is made to the royal prisoner, described in the ballad sung by Blondel, a fragment of this air appears. And when Blondel sings to this same air, but in common measure, the following words:

Sa voix a pénétré mon âme,

Je la connais, Madame,

“is it not,” writes Grétry, “as though he said: ‘His voice has gone to my heart while he sang the air which he made for you.’”

GRÉTRY
From an engraving after a painting by Mme. Vigée-Lebrun, in 1785, the year of the first representation of “Richard Cœur de Lion.”

“Richard Cœur de Lion”—the denouement of which was changed by the author of the piece, Sedaine, at least three times—marks the culminating point of the master’s career. The piece had a great and lasting success, and it remains still in the répertoire of the Opéra Comique. The instrumentation has been reconstructed in a very careful and happy manner by Adolphe Adam.

After this work Grétry produced several others, which did not, however, meet with the same good fortune. Nevertheless, Grétry occupies a place of honor in the history of theatrical music, and his style is remembered as original. If he never acquired the dexterity of the adepts at counterpoint then in renown, and if his harmonies are at times awkward and even faulty, they still have a peculiar attraction which makes them not only acceptable but original and charming.

One day when I went to see Auber in his little house in the Rue St. Georges I found the author of “La Muette de Portici” and the “Domino Noir” at the piano with one of Grétry’s scores in front of him. “Just look at this passage,” said Auber, “it is very curious, considered as to the succession of chords. This harmony is certainly not correct, and would never have entered the mind of what is called a musical savant. And yet if you try to change it you may make it more accurate, but it will be wanting in relief and expression.” That is because the awkwardness of Grétry is the awkwardness of an artistic genius, and awkwardness of that kind is a thousand times better than the accuracy of the cold and unimaginative musician.

I said above that Grétry had the first intuition of the leit motiv in “Richard Cœur de Lion,” as a device for recalling to the spectator either an event, a scene, an essential object or a personage, with their distinctive peculiarities, at the same time preserving unity of style in the general construction of his work;—I said that he also imagined an invisible orchestra such as that which exists in the Wagner Theatre at Bayreuth. Grétry speaks as follows in his work, “Mémoires et Essais sur la Musique,” in the chapter entitled: “Plan for a new Theatre”:

“I should like the auditorium of my theatre to be small, holding at the most a thousand persons, and consisting of a sort of open space without boxes, small or great, because these nooks only encourage scandal or worse. I should like the orchestra to be concealed so that neither the musicians nor the lights on their music-stands would be visible to the spectators. The effect would be magical, the more so as it is always understood that the orchestra is not supposed to be there. A solid stone wall ought, in my opinion, to separate the orchestra from the theatre, so that the sound may reverberate in the auditorium.”

GRÉTRY CROSSING THE STYX.
“Grétry in crossing the Styx plays upon his lyre to beguile the time. ‘Why do you not row?’ he asks Charon.... ‘Because I am listening!’”
Drawn by Joly and engraved by Duplessi-Berlaus.

FRANÇOIS ADRIEN BOIELDIEU
Reproduction of a lithograph portrait by Grevedon, 1826, after a painting by Riesener.