JEAN PHILIPPE RAMEAU
Reproduction of an excellent lithograph portrait of Rameau.

JEAN PHILIPPE RAMEAU

Just as Lully was the glory of the seventeenth century, so French musical genius is represented in the eighteenth by Rameau, the most learned theorist and illustrious composer of his time.

Jean Philippe Rameau was born at Dijon on the 25th of September, 1683. His father and mother were amateur musicians, and they carefully taught their son the elements of the art of which he was destined to become such a celebrated master. The little Rameau made very rapid progress, and his numerous biographers are agreed that at the age of seven there was no musical score which he could not execute at sight on the harpsichord.

In spite of his extraordinary talent for music, Rameau’s parents did not wish him to become an artist. They desired that he should enter the magistracy, and placed him as a student in the care of the Jesuits. He did not make much progress, however, and did not get beyond the fourth class in Latin; for his head was full of music and he could not apply himself to study, insomuch that he became a deplorable example for his school-fellows. His copy-books were annotated with fragments of music which passed through his mind and which he took a great pleasure in putting upon paper. He was at last sent away from the Jesuit college as an intractable pupil; he had but a very slight knowledge of Latin, French, or history, and the same might be said of other subjects.

On returning to his family he gave himself up completely to the study of the harpsichord and the organ, and also learned to play upon the violin. As regards harmony, the youthful Rameau failed to get beyond the first principles of that art-science, as he could not find in Dijon any musician sufficiently well informed on the rules and practice of counterpoint to perfect his knowledge of harmony. Who knows whether it was not precisely this unfortunate blank in his studies which caused him later on to undertake the theoretical inquiries into the formation of chords that are the subject of his admirable treatises on harmony?

Before he had thoroughly learned the laws of harmony, Rameau, as yet a beardless youth, yielded to the law laid down by the little winged god whose name is Cupid. He fell madly in love with a widow who was his neighbor. Everybody knows that nothing exercises a more unfortunate or more beneficial influence over the mind of a young lover than the advice given him by the woman he loves. Happily the widow gave good advice to her adorer. She went so far one day as to reproach him with his ignorance of the French language. “You spell like a scullion!” she told him. Rameau did not die on the spot in consequence of this outrage, for he was a strong-minded youth; but his face became scarlet, and he promised to study—a promise he kept.

Rameau’s father, however, who desired to put an end to the intrigue carried on by his son—who was as precocious in passionate gallantry as he was talented on the harpsichord—broke off the liaison by sending him to travel in Italy. Rameau did not tear himself away from his fair neighbor without great emotion, his heart beating prestissimo appassionato; but he was bound to obey the paternal behest.