Opera Books

French Music in
the XIXth Century

By

Arthur Hervey

CHAPTER XIII

ALFRED BRUNEAU AND THE MODERN
LYRICAL DRAMA

Music in its alliance with the drama is ever in a transitory condition, and we have seen how evanescent are its forms. The Wagnerian theories have haunted the minds of numberless composers, who have tried to apply them in a modified manner while not altogether breaking away from tradition.
     Soyez de votre temps et de votre pays are words which I believe Saint-Saëns once addressed to the younger musicians of France.
     If there is a composer who has realised this, he is assuredly Alfred Bruneau, for he is essentially up-to-date in his ideas and methods. Indeed he is rather in advance of his epoch, which is all in his favour, and at the same time he is typically representative of his country.
     Coming at a moment when all sorts of attempts were being made to shirk the recognised operatic forms without abandoning them altogether, Bruneau resolutely put his shoulder to the wheel, and adopting the system of representative themes in its entirety proceeded to employ it in his own way. He has proved that it is quite possible to follow the example of Wagner without in any way becoming an imitator of the German master. He has fully recognised that the old operatic forms have had their day, that to attempt to revive them is worse than useless, and that " each epoch lives in its art," to quote his own words.
     Although an enthusiastic admirer of Wagner, he has realised .the folly of attempting to write legendary music-dramas of the Bayreuth type. With Emile Zola as his collaborator, he has inaugurated practically a new departure in opera and created a fresh type of lyrical drama. The ideal aimed at by the author and musician had best be told in their own words.
     Emile Zola has related how comparatively late in life he began to take interest in music through having met Alfred Bruneau, whom he describes as—une des intelligences les plus vives, un des passionnés et des tendres les plus pénétrants que j’ai connus.
     "The French lyrical drama "—he writes— "haunts me. When a despotic and all-powerful genius like Wagner appears in an art it is certain that he weighs terribly over the succeeding generations. We have seen this in our poetry; after Hugo, Lamartine and Musset, it would seem to-day that lyricism is for ever exhausted. Our young poets torture themselves desperately in order to conquer originality. Likewise, in music, the Wagnerian formula, so logical, so complete, so exhaustive, has imposed itself in a sovereign fashion, to that extent that outside it, already for a long time, one may believe that nothing excellent and new will be created. . . . - Since my friend Bruneau has made me care for music, I sometimes reflect on these things. To neglect Wagner would be childish. . . . All his conquest must be acquired. He has renewed the formula, it is no longer allowable to turn back and to accept another. Only instead of remaining stationary with him, one can start from him; and the solution is certainly not elsewhere, for our French musicians. . ... . I see a drama more directly human, not in the vagueness of the Northern mythologies, but taking place amongst us, poor men, in the reality of our miseries and our joys...
     "I should like the poem to be interesting in itself, like an engrossing story that might he told one...
     "I conceive that the lyrical drama should be human, without repudiating either fancy or caprice, or mystery. All our race is there, I repeat it, in this quivering humanity of which I desire that music should express the passions, the sorrows, the joys."
     Alfred Bruneau has heen animated by this spirit in composing his works.
     "A fervent admirer of Richard Wagner," he writes, "I have never ceased in my works and in my criticisms to defend the cause of French art. In composing Le Rêve, L’Attaque du Moulin, Messidor, not legendary, but contemporary dramas, very French in action and sentiments, I have had the constant and firm desire—singing the tenderness of mystic love, the abomination of unjust wars, the necessity of glorious labour, of acting as a Frenchman, and I am proud to have been helped in this task and to be so still by the master of our literature, by my dear and great friend Emile Zola, who is not only for me a collaborator, but a veritable inspirer."
     The above extracts will show how entirely of one mind were Emile Zola and Alfred Bruneau, and how well fitted to work together for the regeneration of the musical drama in France. Briefly, their theory amounts to this. The old-fashioned opera, with its airs, duets, trios, and concerted pieces, has had its day; the Wagnerian system of representative themes must be accepted in its entirety; a fresh departure must be made, starting from Wagner, and Zola says : "The races are there, which differentiate the works when the same creative breath has passed over the world." Germany is essentially the land of legends. Has not Wagner exclaimed : "How much must I not love the German people, who even to-day believe in the marvels of the most naïve legend!" Bruneau would paraphrase this, and make a French composer exclaim : "How much must I not love the French people, who even to-day believe in the sun and in life!"—in other words, no legends for French composers, but subjects taken from the life of to-day.
     There is another important innovation made by Zola and Bruneau which has raised a considerable amount of discussion—the substitution of prose for verse in the "lyrical drama" of the future.
     This question had been mooted many years ago. Berlioz and Gounod both seemed to think that a libretto written in prose would be an advantage to a composer, and the latter even began to set one of Molière’s comedies to music in order to test his theories. It was reserved, however, for Zola and Bruneau to make the first real attempt in this direction with Messidor.
     A great deal of ink was used at the time in the discussion of verse v. prose, Saint-Saëns writing an article in which he strongly condemned the abandonment of the former in favour of the latter. Bruneau has explained what he considers the advantage of prose in the following words : "It is the liberty which prose brings to the com poser in the large folds of its ample and generous phrases. Liberty of the dialogue establishing itself, developing itself without any sort of constraint or trouble over the instrumental texture, becoming intimately allied with it : liberty of the never interrupted symphony, singing, roaring, calming itself according to the fancy of the musician, according to the necessities of the drama; liberty of expression— this is more precious still than the others—offered by the precision of the word; illimitable liberty of the infinite melody coursing alert, grave, superb, tender or powerful, certainly joyful to be able to escape from the imprisonment of the cadence and the rhyme; liberty of the phrase, liberty of inspiration, liberty- of art, liberty of forms, liberty complete, magnificent, and definite."
     The literary weakness of the typical operatic "libretto" of the past has often been a matter of comment. Only the future will be able to decide whether prose is more suitable than verse for opera. One thing, however, seems certain, that un(ler present conditions, now that an absolutely consecutive musical treatment is de rigueur in an opera, prose gives more latitude to the composer, leaving him free and unfettered in the expression of his ideas.
     Alfred Bruneau’s first opera, Kérim, founded on an Oriental subject was produced at the Théâtre du Château d’Eau in 1887. Already in this work the composer displayed considerable originality and independence. The system of representative themes is consistently employed in Kérim. We have seen how, in Carmen, Bizet intensified the dramatic situation by the occasional repetition of the pregnant theme associated with the heroine of his beautiful opera, how Saint-Saëns in Samson et Dalila and Henry VIII., Reyer in Sigurd, had gone a little farther and shown a disposition to recognise the value of the leitmotiv (Henry VIII. affords a particularly interesting study on this point). In Kérim, however, Bruneau went farther than his predecessors. Without any attempt at compromise, he constructed his opera on a symphonic basis of representative themes. Considering that Wagner’s works had at that time not been admitted into the répertoire of the Paris Opéra, and that Bruneau was only a beginner, the fact deserves notice. Kérim is a very interesting score in many ways, but as space is limited I must perforce pass on to the composer’s later and more representative works.
     I shall never forget the deep impression made upon me the first time I heard I.e Réve, which was performed at Covent Garden in the régime of the late Sir Augustus Harris during an autumn season in 1891, the same year as its production in Paris. It was a revelation. The originality of the music, the departure from recognised conventionalities, the deep sincerity of the work, its emotional feeling, its peculiar mystic charm, combined in an irresistible appeal. Every one was not of the same opinion. Like all original works, I.e Réve provoked many discussions. It had its enthusiastic admirers and its violent detractors.
     Emile Zola’s beautiful novel upon which Bruneau’s opera is founded occupies a special place in the great French writer’s works. It is full of mystic charm, and it is precisely this which is so admirably reflected in the music. Realistic if you will, in the sense that the impression conveyed is one of reality, that the story and music combine together and impart a sense of truth and sincerity. Exquisitely poetical in the idealisation of the characters ; deeply touching in the tenderness of its accents; profoundly moving in its heart-stirring strains, I.e Réve is a work of quite exceptional fascination, and it is high time that it should be revived.
     When it was first given in London, the style of the music seemed so unconventional, and the harmonic treatment so bold, that many people doubtless did not realise the value and beauty of the work. It was different on the occasion of the production of L’Attaque du Monlin in 1894. This admirable musical drama, in which author and composer have evoked the horrors of the FrancoGerman War, was received with a chorus of approval and hailed on every side as a masterpiece.
     Here was a work which seemed destined to be incorporated into the répertoire side by side with the best known operas. Although Bruneau had adhered to his system, yet his music was so melodious and its appeal so wide that great popularity might have been predicted for it. This will prob-ably come to it yet. Matters move slowly in music, and the real masterpieces are generally those that have taken the longest time to acquire recognition.
     In I.e Réve the action takes place in an old cathedral town, and the musician had to depict scenes of dreamy mysticism, to suggest the internal conflict of contending sentiments. In L’Attaque du Moulin the subject is in direct contrast to that of the former work. Here the conflict is external, the contending forces the French and German armies.
     "Oh, la guerre ! héroique leçon et fléau de La terre."
     These words, declaimed by Marcelline, furnish the keynote of the work, or rather point its moral.
     In I.e Rêve and in L’Attaque dn Moulin Bruneau was able to create a special atmosphere. The two works are totally dissimilar, and yet there is no mistaking their authorship, for Bruneau has a distinct style of his own.
     Messidor, the next work due to the collaboration of Zola and Bruneau, which was brought out at the Grand Opéra in 1897, marks a new departure. We have not to do here with a libretto taken from a novel and arranged for operatic purposes by an outsider, but with an absolutely new work. Messidor is entirely written in prose. It is partly realistic, partly symbolical—its theme being the glorification of labour, and its four acts typifying the four seasons of the year.
     Zola described his intention in the following words :—" To give the poem of labour, the necessity and beauty of effort, faith in life, in the fruitfulness of the earth, hope in the rich harvests of to-morrow. To imagine in our land of France a village, mountains, where the streams bear gold and the inhabitants of which have up to the present lived in collecting this gold; and then to make one of these seize the gold, by turning the streams from their course, and thus ruin the entire village; then, in a catastrophe, destroy the gold, restore the water to the stony uncultivated land from which will rise the August harvest of corn, when from seekers of gold the men will become labourers."
     This represents the fundamental idea of the prose-poem, round which of course is entwined a story of life and love.
     It must be admitted that the groundwork of Messidor has something of the legend about it, a fact which is accentuated by the introduction of an allegorical ballet symbolising the power of gold, for which Bruneau has written marvellolus music. The characters of the work are also rather symbolical. Guillaume, the hero, the honest labourer, sowing the fertilising grain, personifies labour; Mathias, the dishonest workman, may be accepted as typifying Anarchy; then there is a shepherd, a delightful creation, whom we may take as the type of a contemplative nature; Maitre Gaspard is the employer of labour; Véronique represents superstitious feeling, and Hélène, the bride, destined to become the type of womanhood.
     Although the dramatis personae in Messidor are peasants, they are refined and idealised, and, it is needless to say, do not express themselves in the language adopted by the sons of the soil described by Zola in" La Terre "and "Germinal."
     Bruneau has in his turn stated his intentions in composing Messidor thus :—" On a symphonic ground I have wished to leave in its true place, that is to say in the first, the human drama of which I have only been the servant. I have endeavoured to translate in as simple, as faithful a manner as possible the sentiments of the characters, and I have desired that the public should not miss any of the words."
     Bruneau has done this and more, for he has produced a work of high and lofty inspiration, in which the originality of conception is equalled by its successful realisation. His score is a veritable masterpiece, alternately powerful, tender, fantastic, the work of a great musician, who is also a poet, and as sincere an artist as ever lived.
     That Messidor did not achieve the success it deserved is not surprising. A work so entirely novel, so thoroughly out of the ordinary operatic track, could scarcely be expected to appeal to the habitués of the Grand Opéra who were disconcerted by the unconventionality of book and music exactly as their predecessors had been scared by Tannhäuser.
     Messidor, however, was warmly discussed, and, as in the case of I.e Rêve, had its enthusiasts and its detractors. That it will be revived is more than probable, and its great worth cannot then fail to he recognised [As I write these words comes the news of the successful production of Messidor at Munich.]. The last "lyrical drama" written by Bruneau in collaboration with Zola is entitled L’Ouragan, which was produced at the Opéra Comique during the first year of the present century. Here, again, the subject is an entirely original one, and perhaps more purely human than that of Messidor, although it also has a symbolical signification. A passionate drama of love, the scene is laid by the seaside on the coast of an imaginary island. The storm rages without, and seems to accord with the inward feelings of the characters. A simple and beautiful undulating theme is associated with the sea, and is in a measure the leitmotiv of the work. Bruneau’s score teems with passionate exuberance, and con-tains a love scene of quite extraordinary power. Here, again, he has been able thoroughly to realise the atmosphere of the play and to create types.
     I.e Rêve, L’Attaque du Moulin, Messidor, L’Ourag an, these four admirable works, so original yet so dissimilar, are sufficient to stamp Bruneau as one of the most gifted musicians of the age. His great collaborator Zola, snatched away in so tragic a manner, has left him the book of a "lyrical comedy " entitled L’Enfant Roi, the production of which will be awaited with the greatest interest. Among Bruneau’s other compositions, I would mention the fine Requiem performed by the Bach Society a few years ago, the Symphonic Poem "Penthésilée," for voice and orchestra, a bold and highly-coloured work, the quaint and charming Lieds de France and Chansons à danser. Bruneau is also an admirable critic, and has published two volumes in which his views are expressed in language of great beauty, and where he discusses the various manifestations of musical art with enthusiasm tempered by invariable common sense.
     In the full force of his creative ability, Bruneau is not likely to rest upon his laurels. He has already produced four masterpieces, and he may be counted upon to add to these. I have not been able to enter as much into detail as I should have wished concerning works I admire so much, the dimensions of this volume imposing limits that had to be respected. I hope though to have said enough to give an idea of the important place occupied by Bruneau in the operatic evolution of the ceutury.

Last updated October 21, 2006