Undoubtedly there must be rules of some kind, but these are intended for the student and are not meant to hamper the inspiration of the master. In order to explain my meaning I cannot do better than quote the following extract from the preface of Mr. Ebenezer Prout's admirable work on "Harmony,"[27] which conclusively disposes of the question:
"The principle must surely be wrong which places the rules of an early stage of musical development above the inspirations of genius! Haydn, when asked according to what rules he had introduced a certain harmony, replied that 'The rules were all his very obedient humble servants;' and when we find that in our own time Wagner, or Brahms, or Dvórak, breaks some rule given in old text books, there is, to say the least, a very strong presumption, not that the composer is wrong, but that the rule needs modifying. In other words practice must precede theory. The inspired composer goes first, and invents new effects; it is the business of the theorist not to cavil at every novelty, but to follow modestly behind, and make his rules conform to the practice of the master."
These are golden words, involving a precept that should be seriously taken to heart by those who are inclined to pass a hasty verdict upon works exhibiting tendencies of a novel nature. At the same time it does not follow that composers of inferior talent should be allowed a liberty which with them often degenerates into licence, and imagine that it is only necessary for them to stud their scores with consecutive fifths and octaves, and avoid any but the most out-of-the-way modulations in order at once to be ranked as men of genius. There is a vast amount of difference between the crude harmonies, obviously introduced for effect, that occur in the scores of some composers, and those employed with a due sense of dramatic fitness by a musician like Bruneau.
The composer of "Le Rêve" was born on the 1st of March 1857. He is, therefore, at the present time in the full flush of his creative ability, and his powers of production have doubtless not yet reached their full maturity of expression. There is no knowing how far a musician of his calibre may not eventually go, or what works he may be destined to produce. Up to the present he has shown a wonderful amount of independence of thought, and his very exaggerations are the evident outcome of a consistent striving to attain an elevated ideal.
Alfred Bruneau's musical studies were begun in a brilliant manner at the Paris Conservatoire, where he obtained the first prize for violoncello in 1876. He entered into the composition class, presided over by Massenet, and finally, in 1881, triumphantly carried off the "Prix de Rome." This was already a great step towards fame and fortune, although it has been proved over and over again that it leads to neither. Many an old winner of the "Prix de Rome" has, after a fruitless struggle, been compelled to give up the game and resign himself to a life of comparative obscurity. For an artist to remain true to his convictions and resist the temptations thrown in his way of obtaining an ephemeral popularity by pandering to the taste of the public, is not always so easy an achievement as it may appear. It was through the means of the concert-room that Alfred Bruneau's name first became known to the musical public of Paris. An "Ouverture Héroïque," a symphonic poem entitled "La Belle au bois dormant," and "Léda," styled a "poème antique;" these works were played at different times, and sufficed to stamp their author as a musician of undeniable capacity and distinct promise. "Penthésilée" is the name of a symphonic poem of great daring and originality for a solo voice and orchestra, which was only recently produced at one of Mons. Colonne's concerts. It is a musical interpretation of some wild and striking stanzas by the poet Catulle Mendès. Thoroughly independent in structure as it is in its workmanship, bold almost to excess, distinguished by a most unconventional harmonic treatment, this composition exhibits a masterly grip that irresistibly commands attention. The interest may be said to be mainly concentrated in the orchestra, the voice part being strictly declamatory.
It is, however, through his conception of the "lyrical drama" that Bruneau especially asserts his individuality.
"Kérim," his first stage work, brought out in 1887 at the Théâtre du Chateau d'Eau, provisionally given up to operatic performances, does not appear to have excited much attention, possibly owing to the inadequacy of the interpretation. In this work, the tendencies which are so accentuated in "Le Rêve" are already foreshadowed. There is but little in this interesting score that denotes the beginner, and "Kérim" is distinguished by qualities for which we may search in vain through the pages of many works that have acquired a greater popularity. For some reason hard to assign, operas dealing with Eastern subjects do not seem to appeal readily to the taste of the public, at any rate in England. And yet what delightful musical impressions are evoked by the recollection of works such as Goldmark's "Queen of Sheba," Cornelius' "Barber of Bagdad," Bizet's "Djamileh" and others! It may be remarked en passant that the fact of the first of these works being practically unknown on this side of the channel scarcely redounds to our credit.
From the very first page of "Kérim," it becomes evident that we are in the presence of a composer who has something new to say and who intends to say it whether or not it pleases the musical faculty or those who measure the value of a work according to a preconceived standard.
In the matter of harmonic boldness Bruneau goes to very great lengths, and from this point of view alone the score of "Kérim" will prove highly interesting to musicians. The plan upon which he works is admirably logical. He commences by exposing some of his most important themes in their simplest guise, so that they may in a way impose themselves upon the attention of the listener. These are then subjected to various transformations according to the sense of the words they are intended to interpret, and are heard in different forms, either singly or jointly, being employed in combination when the composer has in view the expression of some complex sentiment. It is this system, which in a more embryonic form is apparent in "Kérim," that constitutes the constructive basis of "Le Rêve."
The first of these works, which is termed an opera, but has more of the characteristics of the lyrical drama, treats of an Eastern legend.