Famous composers and their works, Vol. 3

by Unknown

Now that the music known as imitative has made such notable progress, frequently exceeding the limits of good taste, now that Meyerbeer, Berlioz, and, above all, Wagner have carried to such perfection the complicated art of orchestration, it is very interesting to read in the score of “Isis” the air imitative of the noises in nature and called the “air de Pan.” It enables us to realize the extraordinary progress made in instrumentation since Lully’s time. This air was exceedingly popular at that day. In addition to the sounds heard in nature, which are not made very prominent, however, this page of music is rich in declamation, and is not without charm. But sweeter to the ear, in our opinion, is the duet of nymphs in the second act. It is simple, clear, and remarkably graceful.

It will be readily understood that the limits of this biography will not admit of an exhaustive criticism of Lully’s works. We can only point out, in a somewhat cursory manner, the finest passages of his better-known operas, “Psyché,” “Bellerophon,” “Proserpine,” “Armide,” etc. In “Bellerophon” one is fain to quote the entire prologue, in order to show the ideas, the subjects, or, to put it in another way, the mere melody. This grand spectacular lyric tragedy was performed with great success during ten consecutive months, and it was afterward reproduced several times.

“Phaéton”—for some inexplicable cause—has been called the “people’s opera,” just as “Armide” has been styled the “women’s opera.”

Lully’s “Armide,” although much inferior to the “Armide” of Gluck, must nevertheless be included among his works best adapted for the stage, and the most concentrated in style. Only eight years before the appearance of Gluck’s immortal “Armide,” that is to say, in 1764, the Academy of Music performed the opera of the same name by Lully for the last time, and with brilliant success.

“Persée” is, without doubt, one of Lully’s finest works. The score abounds with charming morceaux, the product of a skilled and fertile pen. This opera held its place for long in the répertoire, and each time it was revived the public accorded it a favorable reception. The libretto, by Quinault, the faithful collaborator of the musician, is written in a superior style, offering excellent situations for the musician. Nor should we forget to mention “Proserpine,” Lully’s tenth opera in order of representation.

We have already observed that the distinguishing trait of the dramatic music of Lully, as compared with his contemporaries, is pre-eminently the grandeur of his style, with a declamation so exact that it may be described as perfect. His music is the embodiment of the art of moderation in the recitative, and the accessories of song so lavishly employed by nearly all the Italian composers of the seventeenth century are not permitted by him to overwhelm the essential note of the melody. Lully shows less variety, less flexibility in the ensemble of his productions, than do Carissimi, Léo, Pergolèse, and Marcello, but he comes nearer dramatic truth than any of these masters. His music, for the most part, has the killing frost of age upon it; but that he was a man of genius is scarcely in need of demonstration. He was an innovator, as surely as was Gluck, and, moreover, was an epoch-maker in operatic music. As a musician he was not without learning, as an examination of his overtures will clearly evidence. Some charming pieces for the clavecin show him as a pleasing and skilful writer for that instrument. The student can still find much in Lully’s scores that will repay thoughtful attention.

The name of Lully is inseparable from that of his faithful collaborator, Quinault, the versatile and imaginative poet who aided the composer by providing him subjects which were not only suited to the taste of the time, but contained situations adapted for the purposes of the musician. Before all and beyond all, Quinault, who in no wise deserved the bitter satires that Boileau showered upon him, thoroughly understood the genius of Lully, and knew how to adapt that genius to the tragedies which he was thereby inspired to write.

It will be understood why we do not give a facsimile reproduction of Lully’s musical manuscript, when we say that neither in the musical library of the Opéra, nor in that of the Conservatoire, nor at the National Library of Paris, nor anywhere else, can a single note of music from the pen of the founder of French opera be discovered. The same is true of his handwriting, not a line of which has come down to us. All that remains of it are three signatures. The composer of the music of “Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme” has this in common with its author, Molière, of whose writing only two or three signatures are extant.