III
If the work of Bruneau and Charpentier does not follow in historic or chronological sequence that of Debussy and Ravel, their juxtaposition is defensible since the former in common with the latter have received their individual stimulus from sources extraneous to music. In the case of Bruneau the vitalizing motive is the literary realism of Émile Zola; in that of Charpentier the direct inspiration comes from socialism or at least a socialistic outlook.
Louis-Charles-Bonaventure-Alfred Bruneau was born in Paris, on March 1, 1857. His father played the violin, his mother was a painter, thus an æsthetic environment favored his artistic development. Alfred Bruneau entered the Paris Conservatory at the age of sixteen; three years later he was awarded the first prize for violoncello playing. He studied harmony for three years in Savard's class, became a pupil of Massenet and was the first to win the second prix de Rome in 1881 with a cantata Geneviève. For some years previously Bruneau had been a member of Pasdeloup's orchestra, and in 1884 an Overture héroïque (1885) was played by this organization. Other orchestral works—La Belle au bois dormant (1884) and Penthesilée (a symphonic poem with chorus, 1888)—belong to this period.
Despite some fifty songs, choruses, a Requiem, and some pieces for various wind instruments and piano, Bruneau is essentially a dramatic composer, and it is chiefly as such that he deserves consideration. His first dramatic work, Kérim, the text by Millet and Lavedan (1886), is an unpretentious opera of eminently lyric vein, in which a facile orientalism plays a prominent part. It displays the technical fluidity which might be expected of a pupil of Massenet, and possesses a slight, though palpable, individuality. A ballet, Les Bacchantes (1887), not published until 1912 and recently performed, is in the old style of detached pieces without continuous music. Here Bruneau has been successful in dramatic characterization, but the music is again largely a reflection of Massenet.
It was not until 1891 that Bruneau gave evidence of his characteristic style and individual dramatic method which he has since pursued steadily. French musicians had awakened to the permanent significance of Wagner's dramatic principles, and it is not surprising, therefore, to find that Bruneau accepted these in slight degree. His Wagnerian obligations are virtually limited to an attempt to unite music and text as intimately as possible, to employ leading-motives as symbols of persons or ideas, and to avoid formal melody in the voice parts except at essentially lyric moments. His development of motives, while to a certain extent symphonic, is in fact markedly different from that of Wagner, and his recitatives depart from the traditional accompanied recitatives in that they employ as nearly as possible the inflections of natural speech over single chords.
The kernel of Bruneau's dramatic method lies in his ardent championing of realism as a guiding principle in general, and his admiration for Émile Zola as a man and as a literary artist in particular. With the exception of Kérim all his operas have been on subjects taken from Zola's works, or on texts by Zola himself. With the ideals of realism in mind, Bruneau has avoided legendary subjects, although many of his works are symbolic, and he has preferred to treat dramas of everyday life, animated by the passions of ordinary mortals. As Debussy reflected the impressionism or symbolism of poets, painters, and dramatists in his music, so Bruneau's operas are a counterpart of the realistic movement. In place, therefore, of the stilted, unreal action which disfigures even the finest conceptions of Wagner, Bruneau has sought to replace it with a lifelike, tense, and rapid simulation of life itself. His realism has even led to the discarding in his later operas of verse for prose from obvious realistic considerations. In spite of some Teutonic sources, Bruneau is eminently Gallic in his musical and dramatic standpoint, and, while certain formulas of his teacher, Massenet, persist for a time, in the main he is rigorously independent. For a time Bruneau was considered revolutionary in his harmonic standpoint, but musically at least he cannot be called iconoclastic, or even progressive. The strength of his achievement lies entirely in his qualities as a dramatist pure and simple.
The first work which embodied Bruneau's realistic attitude was Le Rêve (1891), text by Gallet after Zola's novel. The essence of the work dramatically lies in the mystical temperament of the heroine, Angélique, who loves the son of a priest (born before his father, a widower, entered the priesthood) despite the opposition of his father. When she is apparently dying the priest restores her by a miracle and consents to the marriage, only to have the bride fall lifeless as she leaves the church. While Bruneau's musical treatment of Angélique's mystical hallucinations is in a sentimental manner that recalls Massenet, the opera as a whole shows dramatic power of an independent character. Bruneau's second opera in his new style, L'Attaque du Moulin (1893), the dramatization by Gallet of a story by Zola in Les Soirées de Médan, dealing with an episode of the Franco-Prussian war, is far more vital both in drama and music. The mill, the source of life to the miller, Merlier, and his daughter Françoise, is attacked by the enemy. Dominique, a foreigner, who is betrothed to Françoise, is found with powder marks on his hands and is condemned to be shot. The enemy retreat, leaving a sentinel at the mill. The sentinel is assassinated and Merlier is to be shot for the deed. Although Dominique confesses that he did the deed, Merlier dies in his stead so that his daughter may be happy. Bruneau has been equally happy in delineating the peace which reigns at the mill before the arrival of the enemy and the celebration of Françoise's betrothal, and in depicting the brutalities of war and the unselfish death of Merlier. L'Attaque du Moulin is a work of solid inspiration, clarity of style and vivid dramatic force. The Institute of France awarded the Monbinne prize to its composer.
Messidor (1897), text by Zola himself, deals with the struggle between capital and labor and the love of the poor Guillaume for the capitalist's daughter Hélène. The capitalist is ruined, saner economic conditions are brought about and the lovers are united. For a drama which is both sociological and symbolistic Bruneau has written music of broadly humanitarian character and a vitally descriptive vigor. His musical style is firmer and his conceptions are realized with less crudeness than in previous works. L'Ouragan (1901), whose action turns upon a devastating hurricane in a fishing village, and also the tempestuous passions of its inhabitants, has a primitive quality characteristic of both author and composer. There is conscious symbolism in this work also in the distinction of types found in the three feminine characters. Of this opera Debussy wrote: 'He (Bruneau) has, among all musicians, a fine contempt for formulas, he walks across his harmonies without troubling himself as to their grammatical sonorous virtue; he perceives melodic associations that some would qualify too quickly as "monstrous" when they are simply unaccustomed.'[67]
L'Enfant roi (1905), Naïs Micoulin (1907), and La Faute de l'Abbé Mouret (1907) display qualities similar to Bruneau's other operas, in which close adjustment to the drama and consistent musical treatment are the notable features. Naïs Micoulin, text by Bruneau himself after Zola's novel, is particularly admirable for its clarity of style, its absence of mannerism, and its vital depiction of two types of jealousy and the faithful devotion of the hunchback, Toine.
Beyond his activity as a dramatic composer, especial mention should be made of Bruneau's work as a critic. He has contributed to many magazines, and he has acted as musical critic for the Gil Blas, Le Figaro, and Le Matin. He has collected three volumes of able criticism, Musiques d'hier et de demain (1900), La Musique Française (1901), containing much valuable historical material, and Musiques de Russie et Musiciens de France (1903). In these volumes he has shown himself a vigorous and broad critic of catholicity of taste and striking discrimination.
To sum up the dramatic work of Bruneau as a whole, he must be considered as representing a sincere phase of French evolution at a critical time. While it is questionable whether realism can be a permanently successful basis for opera, a form in which æsthetic compromise and illusion are inherent, there is no denying the courageous independence of his position and the plausible defense of his methods which his operas constitute. It must be confessed, however, that Bruneau's dramatic instinct takes precedence over his concrete musical gifts and the former carries off many scenes and episodes in which the latter lags behind. In short, Bruneau's gift for the stage is unquestionable, and his dramatic innovations must remain identified with French progress in this medium. His most obvious defect lies in the inequality of his musical inspiration. If his melodic sense is frank and spontaneous as in the prelude to Act I of L'Attaque du Moulin, the broad theme after the curtain rises in Act I of Messidor, the introduction and 'Sowing Song' in Act II of the same opera, the 'Song of the Earth' in Naïs Micoulin, the contour of Bruneau's melodies is, on the other hand, too often awkward and devoid of distinction. Likewise his thematic manipulation is lacking in flexibility or striking development, especially in the too obvious employment of the devices of 'augmentation' and 'diminution' (see L'Ouragan, prelude to Act I). Yet the allegorical Ballet of Gold in Act III of Messidor and the Introduction to Act IV of the same work show that Bruneau has sensibility toward symphonic qualities. Bruneau's harmonic idiom is rather monotonous and devoid of that subtle recognition of style that we find in the impressionistic school. On the other side, its wholesome vigor has the sincerity which is the hall-mark of realism. As a harmonist Bruneau is not advanced.
Despite the flaws that one can find in Bruneau the musician, they are perhaps after all the defects of his virtues. At a time of wavering and uncertainty, Bruneau showed uncompromising sincerity, stuck to his guns, defied opinion with a resolution and a reckless adherence to his æsthetic standpoint worthy of a friend of Zola. If his works have not the involuntary persuasion that we find in other ultra-modern French operas, one must acknowledge a preëminent dramatic gift, possessing in its presentation of sociological and humanistic problems vitality, high purpose and moments of indubitable inspiration. If Bruneau's musical defects hamper to a certain extent his wider recognition, his fearless independence, his utter contempt for imitation of others, and the remarkable dramatic affinity between his conceptions and those of Zola's are too striking not to be considered an interesting episode in French dramatic evolution.
While Bruneau's operas, apart from a few performances in London, Germany, and New York, have received attention chiefly in France, Gustave Charpentier, despite his relatively small productivity, has won a universal recognition.
Gustave Charpentier was born in the town of Dieuze in Lorraine, June 25, 1860. After the Franco-Prussian war his parents came to live in Tourcoing, not far from Lille. As a boy Charpentier showed natural aptitude for the violin, clarinet, and solfeggio, although he was obliged to work in a factory to support himself. His employer became so struck with his musical ability that he sent him to the Conservatory at Lille, where he obtained numerous prizes. As a result of this the municipality of Tourcoing granted him an annual pension of twelve hundred francs to study at the Paris Conservatory. In 1881 he began his work there as a pupil of Massart, the violinist. He was not successful in competition and, moreover, was obliged to leave to fulfill his military service. Returning to the Conservatory, he took up the study of harmony and later entered Massenet's class in composition. He was unsuccessful in a fugue competition, but in 1887 he received the first prix de Rome for his cantata Dido, which showed distinct dramatic gift and a concise and logical continuity of musical development.
From Rome he sent back as the required proofs of his industry an orchestral suite 'Impressions of Italy,' permeated with Italian atmosphere and folk-song, a symphony-drama, 'The Life of a Poet,' for solos, chorus and orchestra, which may be regarded as a precursor of his later dramatic work, and the first act of 'Louise.' This last was, however, not presented to the Institute, as that institution considered that 'The Life of a Poet' might count for two works.[68]
On returning to Paris Charpentier went to live in Montmartre, the Bohemian and artistic quarter, and entered passionately into the life about him. It presented the inspiration and material which he wished to embody in musical conceptions. He absorbed both the socialism of the quarter and its Bohemian disparagement of artistic and moral convention. Thus he witnessed the aspiration of artists, their enthusiasm for a life of freedom, together with its inevitable degradation. He studied its types avidly, and reproduced them with a verisimilitude that has made them well nigh immortal. During these years he composed many of the Poèmes chantés (published as a whole in 1894), the songs, Les Fleurs du mal (1895), on poems by Baudelaire; the Impressions fausses, on poems by Verlaine, including La Veillée rouge (1894); symbolic variations for baritone and male chorus with orchestra; and La Ronde des Compagnons (1895), for the same combination. In 1896 his Sérénade à Watteau (the poem by Verlaine) for voices and orchestra was performed in the Luxembourg gardens. In 1898 a cantata, Le Couronnement de la muse, depicting an established Montmartre custom, later incorporated in 'Louise,' was given in the square of the Hôtel de Ville. As a whole, these vocal works, with the exception of the cantata, are of interest merely as showing the early style of the composer and for their premonitions of his later idiom. Charpentier is not a born song-writer and his settings of Baudelaire's Le Jet d'eau, La Mort des amantes and L'Invitation au voyage, of Verlaine's Chevaux de bois and Sérénade à Watteau have been easily surpassed by Debussy and Duparc. The most attractive are a setting of Mauclair's La Chanson du chemin for solo voice, women's chorus and orchestra, and the Impressions fausses by Verlaine, in which his dramatic and socialistic bent is more plausible.
In the meantime Charpentier had been working steadily at his 'musical novel' Louise, both text and music by himself, which he had begun at Rome. This work, perhaps the most characteristic of his style, was performed for the first time at the Opéra-comique, February 3, 1900. It was an instant and prolonged success, and its composer was not only famous but prosperous financially. Since the recognition of 'Louise' Charpentier has suffered from irregular health. The production of 'Julien' (1896-1904) at Paris, June 4, 1913, announced as a sequel to 'Louise,' has added little to his reputation. It is founded largely on the music of 'The Life of a Poet,' with added episodes which contrast incongruously with the idiom of the earlier work. It has been announced that Charpentier has finished a 'popular epic' entitled a Triptych. This, it is said, will contain three two-act operas with the sub-titles, L'Amour au faubourg, Commédiante, and Tragédiante.
In 1900 Charpentier founded the Conservatoire populaire de Mimi Pinson (the generic slang title for the shop-girl) for encouraging the musical education of working girls. But, despite its worthy sociological purpose, this institution has failed. Charpentier has occasionally written critical articles, among them sympathetic reviews of Bruneau's L'Attaque du Moulin and L'Ouragan.
In considering the music and personality of Charpentier it must be recognized at the outset that he is far removed in emotional and intellectual makeup from other prominent figures in modern French music. A child of the people, absorbing socialistic tendencies from his boyhood, he is a musician of the instinctive type, averse to analysis or pre-conceived theory. As Bruneau drew his inspiration from the creed of realism and the works of Zola, so Charpentier is dominated by his ardent socialistic bent. His music attempts to embody his impressions of life from a democratic standpoint, in which realism and symbolism are sometimes felicitously and sometimes jarringly mingled.
In his musical idiom Charpentier stands close to Massenet, with that involuntary absorption of his teacher's principles which actuates most of the pupils of that facile but marvellously grounded composer. Charpentier is far more sincere, however, in his relations to his art, in that he has not courted popularity or lowered his artistic standard for the sake of success. Despite his obligations to Massenet, Charpentier has a vigorously independent idiom in which Bohemianism and a poetic humanity are the chief ingredients. This asserts itself even if the ultimate source of his style is obvious. He is also indebted to his master for the transparent yet coloristic treatment of the orchestra, in which sonority is obtained without waste or effort. If at times it is evident that Charpentier has not listened to Wagner without profit, the main current of his orchestral procedures, like his basic musical qualities, is preëminently Gallic.
In the early suite, 'Impressions of Italy' (1890), Charpentier has depicted in a pleasing and picturesque style various aspects of nature, the serenades of young men on leaving the inns at midnight, with responses of mandolins and guitars; the balanced and stately walk of peasant maidens carrying water from the spring; the brisk trot of mules with jingling harnesses and their driver's songs; the wide stretches of country seen from the heights near the 'Desert of Sorrento,' the cries of birds and the distant sounds of convent bells; and for finale a realistic description of a fête night at Naples with the tarantella, folk-songs, bands drowning each other out and general and uproarious gayety. While the musical substance of this suite is undeniably light, Charpentier has mingled Italian melodies, descriptions of nature and a poetic undercurrent with an unusual atmospheric charm and glamour that outweigh concretely musical consideration. His instinctive and coloristic manipulation of orchestral timbres heightens greatly the programmistic illusion.
Though the 'Life of a Poet' (1889-91), scenario and text by Charpentier, is crude and immature, it possesses indubitable dramatic vitality notwithstanding. It tells the tragedy of a young and aspiring poet who would conquer the world of expression, confident in his ability. Gradually he is assailed by doubt, loses his faith and ultimately recognizes that he cannot coördinate the vast problems confronting him into unity. Seeking oblivion in drunkenness, he acknowledges his defeat and the drama of his life is over.
In this work Charpentier has placed symbolism and realism side by side in a way that is disconcerting. After an orchestral prelude entitled 'Enthusiasm,' at once rough, forceful and incoherent, a mysterious chorus with the title 'Preparation' has dramatic power and human sentiment. The second and third scenes, respectively described as 'Incantation' and 'In the Land of Dreams,' are still occupied with the symbolic appeal of the poet to inspiration. Throughout this act the music is effective dramatically, although often not far removed from tawdry. In the second act, 'Doubt,' there is a luminous charm in the chorus sung by the 'voices of night,' an appropriate interpretation of the poet's harassing uncertainty in the second scene, and an extremely poetic orchestral passage descriptive of his meditations, which ends the act. In the first tableau of the third act, entitled 'Impotence,' an orchestral introduction of some length, again crudely dramatic, depicts graphically the losing struggle of the poet for his artistic soul. The chorus, 'voices of malediction,' curse a divinity which permits the ruin of the artist's dreams. To this, the poet, sombre and fantastic, adds his last plaint of despair and his curse. In the second 'picture' the poet is at a fête in Montmartre. The orchestra paints vividly the riot of cheap bands and the reckless jollity. The chorus echoes the curse of the preceding act and dies away in mysterious murmurs. A dance orchestra (in the wings) plays a vulgar polka, a noisy military band chimes in while passing. To these a melody is dexterously added in the orchestra. A reminiscence of a chorus in the first act is ingeniously contrived with the polka and orchestral melody as accompaniment. The poet, now drunk, apostrophizes a wretched girl of the streets, who replies with mocking laughter. The orchestra suggests the æsthetic disintegration of the poet, the chorus recalls the aspirations of his earlier life and finally the poet voices his defeat.
'The Life of a Poet' is interesting because it presents in a somewhat primitive state the essential characteristics of the mature Charpentier, namely, a palpable dramatic gift, the faculty of poetic and humanizing illumination and differentiation of scenes. In the scene at Montmartre he has not only furnished a precursor of the Bohemian realism in 'Louise,' but he has displayed considerable contrapuntal facility. If the 'Life of a Poet' has the clearly discernible defects of youth, it has also its vitality and a spontaneous conviction which was prophetic of the future.
The universality of appeal to be found in 'Louise' (finished in 1900, although begun at Rome), a 'musical novel' in four acts, text by the composer, lies chiefly in its simple dramatic poignancy. The story is that of an innocent girl trusting the instincts of her heart in returning the affection of the irresponsible Bohemian poet who lives nearby; her elopement with the poet, her enthralling happiness and brief triumph as 'Muse of Montmartre' shattered by the false report of her father's serious illness; her return to the parental dwelling, her impatient chafing at restraint, her intolerable longing to return to her lover and the facile Bohemian life; her father's anger and her brutal dismissal into the night by him, followed by his curse on Paris. All is basically human and typical of life under all conditions and places. But 'Louise' contains other elements which make alike for retentive charm and for critical admiration. In the first place, it is pervaded by an insinuating glorification of Paris as a city of freedom and provocative attraction, a perpetual Bohemian paradise. Next, by the nature of the plot it affords an opportunity for the librettist to voice a socialistic assertion of the individual's right to personal liberty, somewhat sententiously uttered, and a condemnation of restraint symbolized by parental egotism. 'Louise' also contains a plausible and graphic portrayal of artist life in Montmartre, including the time-honored ceremony of crowning its 'Muse,' by which Charpentier has immortalized types doomed to disappear before the commercialization of the quarter for the foreign visitor. In addition Charpentier may claim distinction for his services as a folk-lorist by introducing the street cries of various vendors to increase 'local color,' recalling the ingenious choruses by Jannequin (of the sixteenth century), such as Les Cris de Paris and Le Chant des Oiseaux. Thus in time it may be recognized that he has fulfilled an ethnographic purpose of some import.
As the dramatic attraction of 'Louise' resides in its simplicity, so also its musical value resides in its continuous spontaneity, its limpidity of style, devoid of all pretentious scholasticism, in which, however, there is plenty of technical skill and unostentatious mastery of material. Charpentier's dramatic and musical idiom follows the conception of Massenet, in which the constituent elements are balanced, without superfluous insistence upon either. He employs formal lyricism, except when the situation demands it, uses a flowing and melodic declamation which gives free play to the annunciation of the text. He employs motives freely, not in the Wagnerian fashion, however, but in their flexible manipulation succeeds in giving the needful touches of detailed characterization. If his orchestral sonority verges occasionally upon coarseness, as a whole it enhances and colors the dramatic emotions with remarkable skill and poetic fancy.
But, aside from the question of dramatic method, it is the freshness of invention, the skill in characterization, and the ebullient musical imaginativeness of 'Louise' which makes it so unusual among operas. It is more accurate and illusive in its picture of Bohemianism than Puccini's La Bohème, and possesses far more human depth and emotional sincerity throughout. In this respect also it is far above the generality of Massenet's operas, and may be compared, despite their essential difference in musical individuality, to the operas of Bruneau. Charpentier is more of a poet, and his musical invention is far readier. While it may be needless to particularize the domestic scenes in the first act; the prelude to the second act, 'The City Awakens,' with the scene before the dawn in which the rag-pickers, the coal-gleaners, and other characters of the night-world discuss of life as they have found it; the second scene in the same act, the dressmaker's workshop, with an orchestral part for the sewing machine, in which the sewers converse idly and try to account for Louise's moodiness, the whole first tableau of the third act, in which Julien and Louise sing of the lure of Paris; Louise's scene with her father in the fourth act, all these are concrete examples of the interpretative power of Charpentier the dramatist and composer.
It is difficult to be enthusiastic over Julien. If the hero justifies the opposition of Louise's parents (for the story of 'The Life of a Poet' forms its dramatic basis), the introduction of many allegorical or symbolic episodes not only mars the continuity of the drama, but their musical style offends by its difference from that of the music of 'The Life of a Poet,' upon which Charpentier has drawn so freely for the later opera. While in many instances Charpentier has shown ingenuity in adapting his earlier music, the total result of his labors has not only been disappointing but disillusionizing in the extreme.
As a whole, Charpentier, the poet of 'Impressions of Italy,' the crude but forceful dramatist of the 'Poet's Life,' the mature artist of 'Louise,' has accomplished certain unique aspects of realism with a symbolic or sociological undercurrent. Limited as he is to 'the quarter,' he has been also universal, and his sincere and picturesque vision has something of permanence. As a pupil of Massenet he does not belong to the vanguard, but his plausible synthesis of seemingly contradictory elements has left a permanent impress in the annals of modern French music.