S

A FRENCH SONG
COMPANION
D
 A BS IL, Jean (–)
This Belgian composer, unjustly neglected outside his own country, wrote a large number of songs.
The earlier work includes Cimetière (Moréas, ) and a cycle with words by Absil’s compatriot
Maeterlinck, QUATRE POÈMES () for either piano or string quartet accompaniment. These songs
show the polytonal influence of Absil’s mentor Darius Milhaud, as well as his interest in the second
Viennese school. There is also a very effective setting of Hugo’s Autre guitare [ ]. From this peri-
od the CINQ CHANSONS DE PAUL FORT for two equal voices are a useful and piquant contribution to the
duet repertoire. The late s and s brought a new lyricism to Absil’s work. Especially fine are
the TROIS POÈMES DE TRISTAN KLINGSOR (), a small Absil bestiary: the collection opens with Chanson
du chat (one of the best cat songs ever written) and continues with Ma mère l’oye and Où le coq a-t-il
la plume? (Absil was later to make choral settings of a selection of Apollinaire’s Bestiaire poems.) Also
to be recommended are a set of ENFANTINES (Madeleine Ley, ) where the nursery poems range in
subject from spiders to mechanical dolls, and the transparently lucid miniature cycle RÊVES (René Lyr,
). Absil set the Belgian poet Maurice Carême (HEURE DE GRÂCE Op. ) in , anticipating by a
few years Poulenc’s discovery of that poet for the cycle LA COURTE PAILLE [  i–vii]. The last
cycle, CACHE-CACHE (), also includes a Carême setting.

 Chanson du chat Song of the cat

(Tristan Klingsor)

Chat, chat, chat, Cat, cat, cat,

Chat noir, chat blanc, chat gris, Black cat, white cat, grey cat,
Charmant chat couché, Graceful recumbent cat.
Chat, chat, chat, Cat, cat, cat,
N’entends-tu pas les souris Don’t you hear the mice
Danser à trois les entrechats Dancing entrechats in threes
Sur le plancher? On the floor?

Le bourgeois ronfle dans son lit The bourgeois are snoring in their beds,
De son bonnet de coton coiffé A cotton nightcap on their heads
Et la lune regarde à la vitre: And the moon peers through the window-pane:
Dansez souris, dansez jolies, Dance, dance, you pretty mice,
Dansez vite, Dance swiftly,
En remuant vos fines queues de fées. Swishing your delicate fairy-like tails.

Dansez sans musique tout à votre aise Dance without music just as you will,
À pas menus et drus With your pattering little steps
Au clair de la lune qui vient de se lever, In the light of the moon just risen,
Courez: les sergents de ville dans la rue Run: the policemen in the street
Font les cent pas sur le pavé All are on their beat
Et tous les chats du vieux Paris And all the cats of old Paris
Dorment sur leur chaise, Are sleeping in their chairs.
Chats blancs, chats noirs, ou chats gris. White cats, black cats, or grey cats.
 

A L BÉNIZ, Isaac (–)

The songs of this composer are interesting mainly in the light of his unique achievements in the
field of Spanish piano music. He was the most wandering of bohemians, and an itinerant life is
reflected in his work-list which includes a number of songs in Spanish, Italian, French, and, rather
more surprisingly, English. The poor man found himself having to set a great deal of the poetry of
his patron, the English banker Francis Money-Coutts. At least Albéniz’s handful of French songs
seem to have been the result of a more spontaneous affinity with the texts, and an admiration for
Debussy, as well as Chausson, Fauré, and Bordes. The best known of these is probably Chanson de
Barberine (Musset, ), although Il en est de l’amour (Costa de Beauregard) is included in the
Salabert anthology Mélodies et chansons du XX e siècle. There are also the songs Crépuscule and
Tristesse which make up the DEUX MORCEAUX DE PROSE DE LOTI (). In terms of atmosphere the
QUATRE MÉLODIES of  seem most influenced by the French aesthetic. The poems are by Money-
Coutts (In sickness and health, Paradise regained, The retreat, and Amor summa injuria) but this is a
rare instance when French translations (by Calvocoressi) sound more acceptable than the original
language. The titles are Quand je te vois souffrir, Paradis retrouvé, Le refuge, and Amour, souffrance
suprême. As accomplished as these songs are, we hear only occasional hints in Albéniz’s vocal writ-
ing of the bold originality of the Iberia suite for piano, a work which was to have an unexpected
influence on the piano-writing of Messiaen. The seldom-performed songs of Chopin, another com-
poser known chiefly for his pianistic output, seem similarly uncharacteristic.

A N S ER M ET, Ernest (–)

It is not unknown for conductors to aspire to the composition of large works—after all who can
better understand the workings of an orchestra? Weingartner and Klemperer composed symphonies,
and many composers such as Mahler, Strauss, and Boulez achieved their first recognition as con-
ductors. It is more rare to find a conductor whose songs with piano fit the medium so well that they
show no signs of misplaced orchestral thinking. The Swiss conductor Ansermet composed a piece
named Feuilles d’automne for orchestra, but his seven CHANSONS to the texts of the Swiss poet Ramuz
(librettist of Stravinky’s L’histoire du soldat) are models of clarity and delicacy, chansons as opposed
to mélodies. Their sound-world is a combination of French impressionism and folksong. The
Chanson de dragon has something of the neo-classical Stravinsky about it, as does the last of the set,
Les filles du village. They show Ansermet to have had a melodic gift and a perfect sense of scale. If
ever there was a famous conductor whose ear and sensibility showed him capable of the refinement
of mélodie composition, it was Ansermet. With the same wit and a lightness of touch we find in
these songs, Ansermet conducted the first performances of El sombrero de tres picos of Falla, Satie’s
Parade, as well as L’histoire du soldat, Renard, and Pulcinella by Stravinsky.
  

A R R IEU, Claude (–)

Had she been ten years older, Claude Arrieu might have qualified for membership of Les Six (the
critic Henri Collet’s grouping together of Auric, Durey, Honegger, Milhaud, Poulenc, and
Tailleferre). Her music lacks the pre-war frivolity of those composers, but it shares with them a neo-
classical grace and economy of means, and a feeling for lyricism that goes back to Chabrier. Like
Oliver Messiaen, she was a pupil of Paul Dukas at the Conservatoire, and she spent much of her
career working for French radio. Some of Arrieu’s work seems indebted to Poulenc: the set (without
collective title, words by Roumanez) consisting of La vache, Le crapaud, La sauterelle, Froid, très
froid, and Chanson, each song over in a trice, is inspired by the pithiness of Poulenc’s LE BESTIAIRE ;
and three of her fastidious POÈMES DE LOUISE DE VILMORIN ( ) are dedicated to the soprano
Geneviève Touraine, that remarkable friend and exponent of contemporary composers, who had
created Poulenc’s FIANÇAILLES POUR RIRE. Another of Poulenc’s poets, Maurice Fombeure, was an
Arrieu favourite (Bonjour village, Prière pour dormir heureux). English singers may also like to try her
Les filles de Mayfair (Claude-André Puget). Arrieu’s CHANSONS BAS (Mallarmé, ) show a different
side of this poet from that exploited by Debussy and Ravel; it is interesting that these poems had
also been set by Milhaud in , and Arrieu’s work does not suffer in comparison.

AUBERT, Louis (–)

This namesake of the eighteenth-century violinist and composer is all but forgotten on the recital
platform today. A child prodigy and pupil of Fauré (he sang the treble solo in the first performance
of the Requiem), Aubert composed an enchanting opera after Perrault (La forêt bleue, –)
which is still valued by aficionados of the epoch. Unrepentantly influenced by his teacher, Aubert
owes more to the sensuality of Caplet and Ravel (he was the dedicatee of Valses nobles et sentiment-
ales) than to the Stravinsky-influenced Parisian musical world after the First World War. He thus
became quickly unfashionable, and, unlike his contemporary Reynaldo Hahn, has not yet discov-
ered a new public. Among Aubert’s many successful songs are the SIX POÈMES ARABES (Franz Toussaint,
) which are evocative of the east in the manner of Ravel’s SHÉHÉRAZADE ; the incantation
‘Messaouda! Souviens-toi!’, which concludes Le destin, the final song of the set, is reminiscent of the
same composer’s CHANSONS MADÉCASSES. The TROIS CHANTS HÉBRAÏQUES (Klingsor, ) are at least as
interesting as Ravel’s harmonizations and settings of Jewish texts, and were also inspired by the
singer Madeleine Grey. Durand published a recueil of DOUZE CHANTS which contains songs mainly
from the turn of the century, including RIMES TENDRES (), three settings of Armand Silvestre, one
of Fauré’s favourite poets. There is also a beautiful duet setting (entitled Nocturne) of Verlaine’s La
lune blanche [  iii,   v] and a black-humoured chanson written for the celebrated
diseuse Marie Dubas entitled La mauvaise prière. Aubert also made an orchestration of Fauré’s Soir
[ ].
 

AUR IC, Georges (–)

The teenage Auric arrived in Paris from Montpellier with a letter of recommendation addressed by
Déodat de Séverac to Florent Schmitt. Much was expected of him. Cocteau had considered him the
most important of his young composer friends—the group known as Les Six (also including Durey,
Honegger, Milhaud, Poulenc, and Tailleferre). He was early considered the wise man of the group,
and Poulenc consulted Auric on which settings of his LE BESTIAIRE to discard; it was also Auric who
pointed out to Poulenc that he had taken a wrong direction with his POÈMES DE RONSARD. He had a
brilliant mind and was widely read; both he and his wife Nora were at the centre of the cultural life
of Paris for an astonishingly long period, as is shown by his autobiography Quand j’étais là ().
This ubiquity as a permanent member of le tout Paris, and his gifts as a conversationalist, writer, and
administrator (he was a distinguished critic, as well as director of the Paris Opéra –), disguised
a lack of depth as a composer, although he could always claim that he had never aspired to profun-
dity. He was perhaps at his best in the early years of Les Six when a deliberate simplicity and use of
popular song was at the core of the communal style. This was a youthful affectation for some of the
group, but for Auric this ability to evoke popular music with the added spice of modern harmony
was at the heart of his talent as clown and wry commentator. His urbanity concealed a barbed
tongue and a keen musical wit. As Claude Rostand put it, the malice of Auric was situated some-
where between Couperin and Dada. He could also write music with commercial potential, and he
will perhaps be best remembered, to his chagrin, for the waltz song from the film Moulin Rouge, as
well as the music for Bonjour tristesse and Aimez-vous Brahms?—films based on Françoise Sagan’s
novels. His scores for Cocteau’s films, as well as Clair’s make him an important figure in the devel-
opment of film music as a serious art.
Auric’s wide knowledge of contemporary literature ensured a fascinating and discerning choice of
poetry for his mélodies. He favoured publishing short groups of songs to single poets throughout
his life. This pattern is established in his first cycle, composed when he was only , TROIS INTERLUDES
(Chalupt, ). This contains the charming if slight Le pouf, Le gloxinia, and Le tilbury. These songs
are of similar length and density to a much later set like TROIS POÈMES DE MAX JACOB of . Already
an old hand in , he wrote HUITS POÈMES DE JEAN COCTEAU, a set which contains such titles as
Hommage à Satie, Marie Laurencin, and Portrait d’Henri Rousseau—the last of which ends with a
wry quotation from La Marseillaise. This work was an important and influential one in the history
of French song in that it turned its back on romantic lyricism in favour of the carefree spirit of
the Parisian music-hall. During the same period he composed two miniature cycles to the words
of Cocteau’s brilliant young protégé Raymond Radiguet—LES JOUES EN FEU and ALPHABET (both
). In the second of these two works the letter ‘M’ stands for Mallarmé, a charming musical
evocation of the poet’s style. Whatever the intrinsic musical worth of these songs (the quality is
uneven) they document and evoke, perhaps better than any other, Parisian cultural life during the
s.
By the early s Poulenc rather than Auric was already setting the pace in terms of the new
mélodie. Auric’s song Printemps with a text by Ronsard was composed for Édouard Bourdet’s play
Margot (), where the role of Marguerite of Navarre was taken by Yvonne Printemps; it is a use-
   

ful and worthy companion piece to another Ronsard setting, À sa guitare [ ], written
for the same production. TROIS POÈMES DE LOUISE VILMORIN () and TROIS POÈMES DE LÉON-PAUL
FARGUE () further show Auric’s identification with Poulenc’s literary world as well as that of
Auric’s one-time mentor Érik Satie. His most ambitious song cycle is QUATRE CHANTS DE LA FRANCE
MALHEUREUSE () where the words of Aragon, Supervielle, and Éluard comment on the plight
of occupied and humiliated France. Perhaps this was an attempt to equal an almost instantly
famous song written in the same year: Poulenc’s C [  i], where the text was also by
Aragon. But Poulenc’s less complex, and more lyrical, music gets to the heart, and the pity, of the
matter in a way denied to Auric. The SIX POÈMES DE PAUL ÉLUARD (–) are also worthy of inves-
tigation, though, here again, the exalted tone of the love poetry and the way the cycle ends in the
key in which it began foster a suspicion that it is merely an imitation of Poulenc’s Éluard master-
piece TEL JOUR TELLE NUIT [  i–ix].
Although primarily sympathetic to modern poetry, Auric also included settings of Marceline
Desbordes-Valmore and Théodore de Banville in his catalogue of eighty or so mélodies. The CINQ
POÈMES DE GÉRARD DE NERVAL (, Heugel) show Auric’s understanding of an important nineteenth-
century poet otherwise undervalued by musicians. This was the tragic poet whose reworkings of
Goethe were used by Berlioz in parts of his Damnation de Faust, but whose lyrics have largely been
ignored by mélodie composers. The dedication of the cycle to Louis Aragon, a fellow Nerval enthu-
siast, shows how the composer’s tastes were formed by contact with the most gifted literary men of
his time. Auric’s slightly quirky style, sometimes whimsical, sometimes abrasive, but never senti-
mental, suits the words, which sound at least as modern as the music. The harmonic language sug-
gests amused detachment, and perhaps even the poet’s mental instability (here only evident as
engaging eccentricity). In the gently unhinged world evoked by this cycle, Auric does not suffer in
comparison with his greater contemporaries.

 Printemps Spring
(Pierre de Ronsard)

Quand ce beau printemps je vois, When I see this lovely Spring,

J’aperçois I behold
Rajeunir la terre et l’onde, The land and sea grow young again,
Et me semble que le jour, And it seems to me as if the day
Et l’Amour, And Love
Comme enfants naissent au monde. Are born into the world like children.

Le jour qui plus beau se fait, The day which grows more beautiful
Nous refait Makes for us
Plus belle et verte la terre, The land more lovely and green,
Et Amour armé de traits And Cupid, armed with arrows
Et d’attraits, And charms,
Dans nos cœurs nous fait la guerre. Wages war in our hearts.
   i

Il répand de toutes parts He scatters on all sides

Feux et dards, Fire and darts,
Et dompte sous sa puissance And with his power he tames
Hommes, bêtes et oiseaux, Men, beasts and birds,
Et les eaux And the waters
Lui jurent obéissance. Vow to obey him.

CINQ POÈMES DE GÉRARD FIVE POEMS OF GÉRARD

DE NERVAL DE NERVAL

 i Fantaisie Fantasy
Il est un air pour qui je donnerais There is a tune for which I’d give
Tout Rossini, tout Mozart, tout Wèbre, All Rossini, all Mozart, and all Weber,
Un air très vieux, languissant et funèbre, An ancient, languorous, funereal tune,
Qui pour moi seul a des charmes secrets! Which for me alone has hidden charms!

Et, chaque fois que je viens à l’entendre, Now every time I hear that air,
De deux cents ans mon âme rajeunit... My soul grows younger by two hundred years...
C’est sous Louis treize; et je crois voir s’étendre Louis XIII reigns; before me I seem to see
Un coteau vert, que le couchant jaunit, A green slope yellowed by the setting sun,

Puis un château de brique à coins de pierre, Then a chateau of brick with quoins of stone,
Aux vitraux teints de rougeâtres couleurs, With stained glass windows of reddish hue,
Ceint de grands parcs, avec une rivière Girded by great parks, with a river
Baignant ses pieds, qui coule entre des fleurs; That laps its walls and flows amidst flowers;

Puis une dame, à sa haute fenêtre, Then a lady, at her high window,
Blonde aux yeux noirs, en ses habits anciens, Fair-haired, dark-eyed, in old-fashioned dress,
Que, dans une autre existence peut-être, Whom, in another life, perhaps,
J’ai déjà vue... et dont je me souviens! I’ve already seen... and now remember!

 ii Chanson gothique Gothic song

Belle épousée Beautiful bride,
J’aime tes pleurs! I love your tears!
C’est la rosée They are the dew
Qui sied aux fleurs. That befits the flowers.

Les belles choses Things of beauty

N’ont qu’un printemps, Live but one spring,
Semons de roses Let us sow with roses
Les pas du Temps! The tracks of Time!
   iv 

Soit brune ou blonde Brunette or blonde,

Faut-il choisir? Must one choose?
Le Dieu du monde, The God of this world
C’est le Plaisir. Is Pleasure.

 iii Les Cydalises* The Cydalises

Où sont nos amoureuses? Where are the women we loved?
Elles sont au tombeau: They are in their tomb:
Elles sont plus heureuses, They are happier
Dans un séjour plus beau! In a more beautiful abode!

Elles sont près des anges, They are alongside angels

Dans le fond du ciel bleu, At the heart of blue heaven,
Et chantent les louanges And sing the praises
De la mère de Dieu! Of the mother of God!

Ô blanche fiancée! O white betrothed!

Ô jeune vierge en fleur! O blossoming young virgin!
Amante délaissée, Forsaken beloved,
Que flétrit la douleur! Whom grief has withered!

L’éternité profonde Profound eternity

Souriait dans vos yeux... Once smiled in your eyes...
Flambeaux éteints du monde, Extinguished torches of this world,
Rallumez-vous aux cieux! Rekindle yourselves in heaven!

 iv Avril April
Déjà les beaux jours,—la poussière, Fair days already—dust,
Un ciel d’azur et de lumière, A blue sky filled with light,
Les murs enflammés, les longs soirs;— Walls on fire, drawn-out evenings;
Et rien de vert:—à peine encore And nothing green: scarcely yet
Un reflet rougeâtre décore A reddish reflection to adorn
Les grands arbres aux rameaux noirs! The tall trees with their black boughs!

Ce beau temps me pèse et m’ennuie. These fine days oppress and weary me.
—Ce n’est qu’après des jours de pluie —It is only after days of rain
Que doit surgir, en un tableau, That an image of spring can suddenly rise,
Le printemps verdissant et rose, Verdant and pink,
Comme une nymphe fraîche éclose, Like a freshly born nymph
Qui, souriante, sort de l’eau. Who steps from the water, smiling.

* The name given to actresses and dancers of the 18th century, who wore Regency dresses; see Camille Rogier’s famous painting La
Cydalise ‘en costume Régence, en robe de taffetas feuille morte’.
   v

 v Une allée du Luxembourg An avenue in the Luxembourg

Elle a passé, la jeune fille The young girl has flitted by
Vive et preste comme un oiseau: Quick and nimble as a bird:
À la main une fleur qui brille, In her hand a dazzling flower,
À la bouche un refrain nouveau. On her lips a new song.

C’est peut-être la seule au monde The only girl on earth perhaps

Dont le cœur au mien répondrait, Whose heart would answer mine,
Qui venant dans ma nuit profonde Who entering my deep night
D’un seul regard l’éclairerait! Would brighten it with a single glance!

Mais non,—ma jeunesse est finie... But no—my youth is over...

Adieu, doux rayon qui m’as lui,— Farewell, sweet ray that shone on me,—
Parfum, jeune fille, harmonie... Perfume, young girl, harmony...
Le bonheur passait,—il a fui! Happiness passed by—and fled!

BAC HEL ET , Alfred (–)

As a composer of French verismo operas, Bachelet is hardly remembered today for such stage-works
as Quand la cloche sonnera and Un jardin sur l’Oronte. An expert orchestrator, his speciality was the
use of local colour and pastiche, and in this way he was something of a successor to Saint-Saëns. As
a mélodie composer, Bachelet is known only for his opulently romantic song Chère nuit (Adenis),
chosen by Sergius Kagen to open the widely used anthology entitled  French songs (International
Music Company). This is typical of a certain type of mélodie of the time which is virtually an oper-
atic aria with piano accompaniment.

BA R BER, Samuel (–)

Although this famous American composer (and accomplished singer) never studied in France
(Barber’s foreign links were almost exclusively with Italy), it seems he was at home with the French
language from an early age. Among his unpublished compositions are La nuit (Meurath, ), and
Au clair de la lune (). In – he composed MÉLODIES PASSAGÈRES (Rilke) for the baritone Pierre
Bernac accompanied by Francis Poulenc. The cycle is dedicated to this duo. There are five songs in
the set (available in two keys) including a meltingly liquid Un cygne (surely inspired by Ravel’s swan
in HISTOIRES NATURELLES), and a Debussian exercise for middle pedal in Le clocher chante. This cycle
has a dignified elegance but it is seldom programmed, probably because it makes rather a muted
impression on the platform. Rilke settings in French are sadly rare, and this short cycle might have
gained stature with the addition of a few more songs. It is possible that Barber felt rather awkward
writing in French, not because he was unfamiliar with the language, but because he felt it the duty
   iii 

of English-speaking composers to write in their own language. (Barber’s younger compatriot Ned
Rorem was more of a Francophile, but nevertheless felt this to be the case.) If this was so, Barber’s
choice of the Rilke texts has a delicate logic: Rilke worked as Rodin’s secretary in Paris, and French
was his second language.

MÉLODIES PASSAGÈRES FLEETING MELODIES

(Rainer Maria Rilke)

 i Puisque tout passe Since all things flit by

Puisque tout passe, Since all things flit by,
faisons la mélodie passagère; let’s create a fleeting melody;
celle qui nous désaltère the one that slakes our thirst
aura de nous raison. shall be the one to win us.

Chantons ce qui nous quitte Let us sing what leaves us

avec amour et art; with love and art;
soyons plus vite let us be swifter
que le rapide départ. than a swift departure.

 ii Un cygne A swan
Un cygne avance sur l’eau A swan moves over the water
tout entouré de lui-même, ringed all around by itself,
comme un glissant tableau; like a painting that glides;
ainsi à certains instants thus, at certain moments,
un être que l’on aime a being that one loves
est tout un espace mouvant. is a whole moving space.

Il se rapproche, doublé, It draws near, bent double,

comme ce cygne qui nage, like the drifting swan,
sur notre âme troublé... over our troubled soul...
qui à cet être ajoute adding to that being
la tremblante image the trembling image
de bonheur et de doute. of happiness and doubt.

 iii Tombeau dans un parc Tomb in a park

Dors au fond de l’allée, Sleep at the end of the row,
tendre enfant, sous la dalle, dear child, beneath the stone;
on fera le chant de l’été around your space we shall sing
autour de ton intervalle. the song of summer.

Si une blanche colombe Should a white dove

passait au vol là-haut, pass overhead,
je n’offrirais à ton tombeau as sole offering for your tomb,
que son ombre qui tombe. I’ll present its falling shadow.
   iv

 iv Le clocher chante The bell-tower sings

Mieux qu’une tour profane, Better warmed than a secular tower
je me chauffe pour mûrir mon carillon. am I to ripen my carillon.
Qu’il soit doux, qu’il soit bon May it be sweet, may it be good
aux Valaisannes. for the girls of the Valais.

Chaque dimanche, ton par ton, Every Sunday, tone by tone,

je leur jette ma manne; I cast to them my manna;
qu’il soit bon, mon carillon, may it be good, my carillon,
aux Valaisannes. for the girls of the Valais.

Qu’il soit doux, qu’il soit bon; May it be sweet, may it be good;
samedi soir dans les channes into their beers on Saturday nights
tombe en gouttes mon carillon my carillon falls, drop by drop,
aux Valaisans des Valaisannes. for the boys of the girls of the Valais.

 v Départ Departure
Mon amie, il faut que je parte. My love, I must leave.
Voulez-vous voir Would you care to see
l’endroit sur la carte? the place on the map?
C’est un point noir. It’s marked in black.
En moi, si la chose In me, if things
bien me réussit, ce sera work out, it will be
un point rose a pink mark
dans un vert pays. in a green land.

BA R R AUD , Henri (b. )

This Bordelais composer of operas, instrumental music, and vocal music of all kinds was influential,
as the director of Radiodiffusion Française, in encouraging new music in all its forms. As an opera
composer he was perhaps most successful with Lavinia (). As a composer of mélodies he set
Reverdy and Mme de Sévigné among others, but his most charming collection is HUIT CHANTEFABLES
POUR LES ENFANTS SAGES (Desnos, ). These small animal poems (some of which are also wonder-
fully set by Jean Wiener and Lutoslawski) triumphantly update Apollinaire’s LE BESTIAIRE while doing
homage to the older poet’s original concept. In L’alligator, Barraud’s sly quotation from Gershwin’s
Porgy and Bess shows the alligator’s passion for the man he loves . . . to eat. Barraud’s spare but witty
style, more reminiscent perhaps of Milhaud and Honegger than of Poulenc, is perfectly attuned to
these jewelled texts. Other cycles include the CHANSONS DE GRAMADOCH (Victor Hugo, ) with its
jolly opening Le sorcier et le pirate, and QUATRE POÈMES DE LANZA DEL VASTO ().
  

BEAC H, Amy Marcy (–)

The songs of Mrs H. H. A. Beach are a treasure trove of early American art song, and are now being
progressively rediscovered and reassessed. Like her European contemporaries Cécile Chaminade and
Maude Valérie White, Amy Beach displayed qualities of professionalism and craftsmanship in her
songwriting (not to mention melodic resourcefulness) which might have received greater attention
had she been a male composer. Her prolific output includes settings of French from the outset. Jeune
fille et jeune fleur (Chateaubriand) is among her first songs and dates from , and the three songs
of Op.  () are settings of Hugo and F. Bovet. Two further French songs from – to texts
by the ubiquitous Armand Silvestre have been reprinted by Southern Music Company; these are
Canzonetta and Je demande à l’oiseau.

BEM BERG, Herman (–)

This Franco-Argentine composer, a pupil of Massenet, achieved considerable renown with his stage-
works, and some of his sentimental but effective songs. He was most famous for his Arthurian opera
Élaine which was well received at both Covent Garden and the Metropolitan, New York. Bemberg’s
songs were hugely popular with the singers of the day, for he had a real feel for melody. The most
celebrated were Chant hindou (Ocampo), which appeared in various arrangements with optional
obbligato instruments, and Il neige (with a text by the composer). Bemberg also composed a version
of La fée aux chansons which is better known in Fauré’s setting, and Sully Prudhomme’s Soupir
[ ]. It was a brave man who could set this poem in  when the Duparc song was already
immortal, but there seems to have been a foolhardy streak in Bemberg’s nature which was ready to
take risks. As a result of this lack of discretion, his career was overshadowed by sexual scandal, and
suffered a decline at the turn of the century.

BER KEL EY , Sir Lennox (–)

The most Francophile of all English composers, Berkeley felt most at home with the refined Gallic
sensibility of, say, Fauré and Mallarmé; not for him the France of berets, bicycles, and garlic. He
admired Chabrier and Poulenc without being in the least like them, for his France was neither that
of Offenbach and the naughty Second Empire, nor the boulevards and pavements of nocturnal Paris
rich in amorous adventure. In his music (and not only his songs in French) his creative spirit was
governed by the rational: exquisite taste, understatement, discipline were all second nature to him,
partly because of his own temperament (he was a Catholic convert) and partly the result of the
influence of his redoubtable teacher Nadia Boulanger. Through her he came to value and emulate
the transparent clarity, logic, and economy of means we find in the neo-classical Stravinsky. There
are fifteen songs in French (published in a collected edition by Chester), among which we can find
  

some of Berkeley’s most characteristic work. He has a marked taste for the poetry of the sixteenth
century or earlier (Joachim du Bellay, Charles d’Orléans, Louise Labé, Jean Passerat) but he also
wrote cycles with poems by his contemporaries—Jean Cocteau (TOMBEAUX—five songs, ) and
Charles Vildrac (TROIS POÈMES DE VILDRAC, ), a poet he shares with Darius Milhaud. His best-
known French songs are D’un vanneur de blé aux vents to a text by du Bellay (C. Day Lewis, poet
and singer, pronounced this ‘one of the most musical pieces of song-writing of our period’ () )
and the enchanting Ode du premier jour de mai (Passerat, ) [ ] with a gentle lilt typ-
ical of Berkeley’s music at its most ingratiating. The death of Poulenc inspired Berkeley to an
Apollinaire setting (Automne, ), for which, as in Ned Rorem’s similarly memorial homage For
Poulenc (O’Hara), the composer deliberately took on a tinge of his old friend’s style.

 D’un vanneur de blé aux vents From a winnower of corn to the winds
( Joachim du Bellay)

À vous, troppe légère, To you, troop so fleet,

Qui d’aele passagère Who with winged wandering feet
Par le monde volez, Through the world do fly,
Et, d’un sifflant murmure And with soft murmuring
L’ombrageuse verdure Gently shake
Doulcement esbranlez, The shady foliage,

J’offre ces violettes, I offer these violets,

Ces lis, et ces fleurettes, These lilies and these flowerets
Et ces roses icy, And these roses here,
Ces vermeillettes roses, These bright red roses,
Tout freschement écloses, All freshly blooming,
Et ces oeilletz aussi. And these carnations too.

De vostre doulce halaine With your sweet breath

Éventez ceste plaine, Fan this plain,
Éventez ce séjour: Fan this dwelling-place:
Ce pendant que j’ahanne While I toil away
À mon blé, que je vanne At my corn, which I winnow
À la chaleur du jour. In the heat of the day.

BER L IOZ, Hector (–)

Berlioz’s greatness as a symphonist and composer of operas is no longer in doubt, but the songs
remain controversial. The tenor Hugues Cuenod, for example, was not fond of them, and his dis-
dain for what he called their lack of elegance was not untypical of his generation, whose mind had
been made up long before the Berlioz revival, which was launched in the s by the conductor
Colin Davis, among others. Pierre Bernac writes of the songs that ‘they often have a quality of
  

romantic grandiloquence, which is certainly opposed to the essential characteristics and finest mer-
its of the French mélodie’. On the other hand the mezzo-soprano Sarah Walker from a much
younger generation feels more closely attuned to Berlioz than to almost any other composer. This
is largely due to his highly developed sense of drama, prized by all artists who have had anything to
do with the Berlioz operas. But perhaps it has also something to do with the composer’s own dis-
like of high sopranos—the majority of his finest vocal music for female voice is written for the mid-
dle range, and he had a love of the mezzo timbre.
Whatever the vicissitudes of taste and fashion, it is true that these songs lie outside the normal
definitions of French mélodie; they are more closely related to the strophic romance which preced-
ed them, and bear little relation to the songs of Gounod which follow them. It is significant that
Ravel thought of Gounod, not Berlioz, as the father of the mélodie. Berlioz was nevertheless the
founding father of romanticism, and one of the few French composers to be taken seriously by
forward-thinking German artists in a century where cultural influence came mostly from the oppo-
site direction. Indeed Ravel’s verdict acknowledges, perhaps unintentionally, the important
influence of the German lied on French music. Gounod could not have been the song composer he
was without the example of Schubert, whose songs were performed in Paris by the tenor Adolphe
Nourrit in the late s. The first Berlioz songs on the other hand were composed in Schubert’s
lifetime, well before that composer was imported to France, and Berlioz’s first important cycle
IRLANDE (Gounet, after Thomas Moore) was complete by , only a year after Schubert’s death.
This set stands alone in the French song repertoire, magnificently free of foreign musical influence
(apart from the shade of Gluck in the background), largely ignored, but challenging and fascinat-
ing. One can feel in these songs the composer’s obsession with Harriet Smithson, the Shakespearian
actress and Thomas Moore’s compatriot; Berlioz has adopted the Irish cause with the passion and
partiality of a man who wishes to identify with the background of his beloved at all costs. Most of
these long songs are dedicated to Thomas Moore himself, and are strophic in the rather laboured
manner of the French romance. This, and a glance at the height of the demanding tenor tessitura,
makes singers pass over them when planning recitals. This is a pity, for Le coucher du soleil, L’origine
de la harpe, La belle voyageuse, and Adieu Bessy contain much that is rewarding. It is interesting that
the composer’s identification with these texts should have sprung from a haphazard personal con-
nection with Smithson; the quality of the literature itself, or Berlioz’s own connection with poets,
seems to have played a less than crucial part in his selection of poems. He was, for example, a close
friend of Vigny and acquainted with Heine, neither of whom he set to music. Nevertheless these
IRLANDE songs fascinate; what Bernac dubs grandiloquence here often seems passionate, brave, and
quixotically modern.
These qualities are even more pronounced in the last song of the set entitled Élégie which is ded-
icated ‘to the shade of the unfortunate Robert Emmet’ who was executed by the British in  for
his part in an uprising. There is nothing like this vehement outburst in all French song; as the elegy
is written in prose, Berlioz abandons convention and gives free rein to his emotions. All of his frus-
tration and pain over the Smithson romance is poured into the music, where for once the percus-
sive nature of the piano seems suited to the drama (the song, unlike most of the others, was never
orchestrated). In this music, gauche and inspired by turns, we can hear the very birth-pains of
romanticism: the awkward writing, where major and minor tonalities clash in wilful juxtaposition,
 

seems consistent with the painful and ecstatic emergence of a new way of responding to literature.
Musical architecture yields to emotion, and words dictate the shape of the music in seemingly arbi-
trary fashion; this disguises the fact that the work is written in a fairly conventional ABA form. The
title of Thomas Moore’s collection—Irish melodies—also bequeathed to French song its new name:
‘Have you heard Berlioz’s mélodies?’ music-lovers asked each other, and the word stuck as a label for
the countless masterpieces of piano-accompanied song to come in future generations.
Of course, some of the Berlioz songs are quiet and contemplative, inspired by the lilting /
rhythm of the bergerette. Nevertheless this velvet-gloved gentleness cannot really disguise that the
composer is thinking in epic terms with almost everything he does. One is often aware of a gigan-
tic musical personality not quite at home with a miniaturist medium, and somehow uncomfortably
constrained by the limits of the single human voice, and the inadequacies of the pianoforte in terms
of colour and power. (He was not a pianist, after all.) It is not surprising for example that the solo
voice in the piano-accompanied version of the haunting La mort d’Ophélie () is replaced by a
female chorus in the version with orchestra, however persuasive were the composer’s first ideas. (In
the same way Wolf replaces the solo voice with a chorus in his orchestral version of the Mörike song
Der Feuerreiter.) One feels Berlioz ever aspiring to the grander and more universal, especially in the
case of a work like La mort d’Ophélie which is inspired by his beloved Shakespeare, a universal poet
if ever there was one. In these heady regions of the spirit, the orchestra is his strongest ally and one
suspects that the piano version has been something of a substitute for the ‘real thing’. Nevertheless
much of the vocal music was conceived for piano in the first place, and can be performed
unashamedly on the recital platform. In this respect Berlioz is similar to Gustav Mahler, whose orig-
inal piano versions for works like LIEDER EINES FAHRENDEN GESELLEN and the songs from Des Knaben
Wunderhorn have a definite authenticity of their own. A recent edition of these Mahler songs has
reinstated the original piano parts which are rather different from the piano reductions of the
orchestral scores.
François Lesure has recently done a similar service for LES NUITS D’ÉTÉ in an edition published in
the Patrimoine series (Éditions Musicales de Marais). The old Costallat scores (in two keys), which
performers have used for generations, are a reduction of the orchestral score. The new edition goes
back to the composer’s original version for piano accompaniment and reveals many new interesting
details; for example in Le spectre de la rose the familiar long prelude (always a great challenge to the
pianist, and strangely unconvincing without orchestral colours) is replaced by a single bar of intro-
duction. This set of songs, however it is accompanied, is a marvellous compendium of Berlioz’s art.
It is the fruit of the composer’s friendship with the poet and fellow-critic Théophile Gautier, and
was written in –, the period of Robert Schumann’s greatest lieder, and yet utterly unlike them.
The Villanelle with its almost Mozartian elegance and wit has the lightest touch of any of the songs
and is a perfect appetizer. Le spectre de la rose is justly famous (above all in Régine Crespin’s remark-
able recording with Ansermet) for the languid beauty of its long unfolding lines; the ecstatic phrase
‘Et j’arrive du paradis’ leaps high into the air in such a way, and with such an orchestral shimmer to
support it, that the spirit of Nijinksy is somehow conjured before our eyes (although he danced the
ballet of this name to Weber’s Invitation to the waltz, for which Berlioz provided only the orches-
tration). The dark majesty of Sur les lagunes is broodingly impressive; it was a poem set later (and
less remarkably) by Gounod, Fauré, and Duparc. Then there is the plaintive and statuesque Absence,
  

a poem which Bizet also set (though in truncated form) under the same title. This and Au cimetière
(often taken far too slowly) could only have been written by Berlioz. His debt to the static grandeurs
of Gluck is as apparent in the former song as is his restless harmonic originality in the latter. It is
interesting to compare this Au cimetière with the Duparc setting entitled Lamento from many years
later: Berlioz cedes nothing to the younger man, innovator though Duparc was, in terms of a bold
and original response to the words. And nothing could better illustrate the difference between
Berlioz’s songs and the mainstream mélodie than to compare L’île inconnue, the last of LES NUITS
D’ÉTÉ, with Gounod’s setting of the same poem, Où voulez-vous aller? The Gounod is all charm with
a delightful melody, light of touch and ideal for the salon. The Berlioz is painted on a much larger
canvas, a seascape with the intrepid composer at the helm. There is a reckless quality here as the
imaginary barque ploughs through the water with sails flapping in the breeze. But this delight in
travel is combined with a dark pathos, not to be found in the Gounod, which perfectly captures the
poem’s undertones of deception, cynicism, and betrayal.
I suspect that singers will remain happy with the old Costallat version of LES NUITS D’ÉTÉ, if only
because they are familiar with the orchestral score. A work which can have a double life on both the
concert and recital platform is considered good value for money in terms of a performer’s learning
time. It is, however, a far from ideal recital piece, no matter how well it works in the concert hall
with a good conductor and a world-class soloist. It is extremely taxing for almost any singer (per-
haps more so in the piano version, for the orchestra provides a different kind of support) and it is
very seldom that all the songs in the set suit the same performer, tessitura-wise. One understands
conductors who opt for a performance shared between two or more soloists; indeed, this seems to
have been the composer’s intention. The piano-accompanied version was conceived for mezzo-
soprano or tenor, but the orchestral version (if performed in the composer’s chosen keys) calls for
all four voice types: soprano (Villanelle, Absence, and L’île inconnue); mezzo-soprano (Le spectre de la
rose); tenor (Au cimitière); baritone (Sur les lagunes). Ever impractical in the grand manner, Berlioz
even employs different instrumentation for each song.
A glance through the complete Berlioz songs (there is a Kalmus reprint of the old Breitkopf &
Härtel edition) yields a number of unusual treasures. The early song Le pêcheur is an extraordinar-
ily turbulent adaptation of Goethe’s Der Fischer (although no tenor recitalist I know would count-
enance the high C sharp). In Chant du bonheur (), to the composer’s own text, the tessitura is
once again very high, and there is a remarkable extended piano postlude which shudders in sweet
anticipation of the lover’s kiss. Premiers transports (Deschamps) has a chorus as well as an obbligato
cello. The collection known as FEUILLES D’ALBUM Op.  (a title later adopted by Bizet) is as good an
introduction to the variety of these mélodies as any, with songs dating from various periods of the
composer’s life. Les champs (Béranger) is an old-fashioned romance rescued by Berlioz from a first
version made as early as ; La belle Isabeau (Dumas) from  is an opera scène with optional
chorus and the recurring feature of thunderclaps suggested by the elaborate piano writing; Le chas-
seur danois (Leuven) of  for bass voice is a varied strophic song influenced by the fashion for
hunting music that followed Weber’s success with Der Freischütz ; the last of the set is Zaïde
(Beauvoir, ), which is a bolero in the Moorish manner. Here Berlioz, habitually the innovator,
owes something to the oriental works of Félicien David, but he carries the idea to a higher plane of
energy; after this we find countless examples of Spanish-inspired music throughout the pages of
  

French song. There is an optional castanet part in Zaïde, but where can one find a castanet player?
It is a tempting challenge for a singer who fancies that she can click away as she sings, matching the
composer’s quirky exuberance. The separate song La captive (), a Hugo evocation, also displays
Berlioz luxuriating in an exotic world of sybaritic delights. His ability as a pasticheur with a pen-
chant for armchair travel is displayed in these oriental evocations, both of which exist in orchestral
versions.
The collection FLEUR DES LANDES Op.  once again gathers together songs from different periods.
These works contain influences as various and disparate as the naivety of Breton folk music, and a
meeting in  with Johannes Brahms, whom Berlioz immediately recognized as a musical innova-
tor. Le matin is a strophic song with harmonies recherché enough to challenge the younger com-
poser; Petit oiseau (both songs have indifferent texts by the Abbé de Bouclon) is more deliberately
archaic; Le jeune pâtre breton (Brizeux, ) has a horn obbligato; one remembers that Schubert’s
Auf dem Strom had been published in . The composer suggests that the horn should be ‘in a
room, somewhat away from the piano’. Ensemble may be rather difficult between the players, but
Berlioz never let mere practical considerations dampen the quality of his febrile imagination. Le
chant des bretons (Brizeux, ) is for four-part men’s chorus. Short works such as these are sadly sel-
dom heard on the concert platform, simply because it is not cost-effective to hire a large number of
artists for something that is over in minutes. Less expensive to mount is the delectable duet Le
trébuchet (Bertin and Deschamps,  or earlier) which, with its inventive use of
hiatus and silence, is surprisingly modern (like so much of Berlioz’s music), and seems to have been
composed without taking the rest of the musical world into account. This composer is only ever
capable of being himself.
Even more than the usual run of his unbiddable compatriots, Berlioz was a rugged pioneer and
complete individualist. His songs bear little resemblance to anyone else’s, a quality which frightens
many performers and listeners who feel happier with music that has a natural place in a hierarchy
or lineage. These songs stand outside the traditions that are to be found almost everywhere else in
this book. The same could be said of Érik Satie’s very different mélodies which, despite their eccen-
tricity, are similarly indispensable to the canon.

 Élégie Elegy*
(Thomas Gounet)

Quand celui qui t’adore n’aura laissé derrière lui que When he who adores you has left behind him naught
le nom de sa faute et de ses douleurs, oh! dis, pleur- but the name of his transgression and grief, ah say!
eras-tu s’ils noircissent la mémoire d’une vie qui fut will you weep if they darken the memory of a life
livrée pour toi? Oui, pleure! Et quel que soit l’arrêt de devoted to you? Yes, weep! And whatever my enemies
mes ennemis, tes larmes l’effaceront. Car le Ciel est decree, your tears shall efface it. For Heaven can bear
témoin que, coupable envers eux, je ne fus que trop witness, that though guilty to them, I have been only
fidèle pour toi. too faithful to you.

* On the death of Robert Emmet, an Irish nationalist executed by the British in  for his part in an uprising.
   

Tu fus l’idole de mes rêves d’amour, chaque pensée de You were the idol of my dreams of love; you were the
ma raison t’appartenait. Dans mon humble et object of all my thoughts. In my final humble prayer
dernière prière ton nom sera mêlé avec le mien. Oh! your name shall be mingled with mine! Ah! may
bénis soient les amis, oui, bénis soient les amants qui friends be blessed, yes, may lovers be blessed, who
vivront pour voir les jours de ta gloire! Mais, après shall live to see your days of glory! But after this joy,
cette joie, la plus chère faveur que puisse accorder le the dearest blessing that Heaven can grant is the
Ciel, c’est l’orgueil de mourir pour toi. pride of dying for you!

 La mort d’Ophélie The death of Ophelia

(Ernest Legouvé, after Shakespeare*)

Auprès d’un torrent Ophélie Beside a brook, Ophelia

Cueillait, tout en suivant le bord, Gathered along the water’s bank,
Dans sa douce et tendre folie, In her sweet and gentle madness,
Des pervenches, des boutons d’or, Periwinkles, crow-flowers,
Des iris aux couleurs d’opale, Opal-tinted irises
Et de ces fleurs d’un rose pâle And those pale purples
Qu’on appelle des doigts de mort. Called dead men’s fingers.

Puis, élevant sur ses mains blanches, Then, raising up in her white hands,
Les riants trésors du matin, The morning’s laughing trophies,
Elle les suspendait aux branches, She hung them on the branches,
Aux branches d’un saule voisin. The branches of a nearby willow.
Mais trop faible le rameau plie, But the bough, too fragile, bends,
Se brise, et la pauvre Ophélie Breaks, and poor Ophelia
Tombe, sa guirlande à la main. Falls, the garland in her hand.

Quelques instants sa robe enflée Her dress, spread wide,

La tint encor sur le courant, Bore her on the water awhile,
Et, comme une voile gonflée, And like an outstretched sail
Elle flottait toujours chantant, She floated, still singing,
Chantant quelque vieille ballade, Singing some ancient lay,
Chantant ainsi qu’une naïade, Singing like a water-sprite
Née au milieu de ce torrent. Born amidst the waves.

Mais cette étrange mélodie But this strange melody died,

Passa, rapide comme un son. Fleeting as a snatch of sound.
Par les flots la robe alourdie Her garment, heavy with water,
Bientôt dans l’abîme profond Soon into the depths
Entraîna la pauvre insensée, Dragged the poor distracted girl,
Laissant à peine commencée Leaving her melodious lay
Sa mélodieuse chanson. Hardly yet begun.

* Hamlet, Act IV, scene VII.

   i

LES NUITS D’ ÉTÉ SUMMER NIGHTS

(Théophile Gautier)

 i Villanelle Villanelle
Quand viendra la saison nouvelle, When the new season comes,
Quand auront disparu les froids, When the cold has gone,
Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle, We two will go, my sweet,
Pour cueillir le muguet au bois; To gather lilies-of-the-valley in the woods;
Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles Scattering as we tread the pearls of dew
Que l’on voit au matin trembler, We see quivering each morn,
Nous irons écouter les merles We’ll go and hear the blackbirds
Siffler! Sing!

Le printemps est venu, ma belle; Spring has come, my sweet;

C’est le mois des amants béni, It is the season lovers bless,
Et l’oiseau, satinant son aile, And the birds, preening their wings,
Dit ses vers au rebord du nid. Sing songs from the edge of their nests.
Oh! viens donc sur ce banc de mousse, Ah! Come, then, to this mossy bank
Pour parler de nos beaux amours, To talk of our beautiful love,
Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce: And tell me in your gentle voice:
Toujours! Forever!

Loin, bien loin, égarant nos courses, Far, far away we’ll stray from our path,
Faisons fuir le lapin caché, Startling the rabbit from his hiding-place
Et le daim au miroir des sources And the deer reflected in the spring,
Admirant son grand bois penché; Admiring his great lowered antlers;
Puis, chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises, Then home we’ll go, serene and at ease,
En panier enlaçant nos doigts, And entwining our fingers basket-like,
Revenons rapportant des fraises We’ll bring back home wild
Des bois! Strawberries!

 ii Le spectre de la rose The spectre of the rose

Soulève ta paupière close Open your eyelids,
Qu’effleure un songe virginal; Brushed by a virginal dream;
Je suis le spectre d’une rose I am the spectre of a rose
Que tu portais hier au bal. That yesterday you wore at the dance.
Tu me pris encore emperlée You plucked me still sprinkled
Des pleurs d’argent de l’arrosoir, With silver tears of dew,
Et parmi la fête étoilée And amid the glittering feast
Tu me promenas tout le soir. You wore me all evening long.

Ô toi qui de ma mort fus cause, O you who brought about my death,
Sans que tu puisses le chasser, You shall be powerless to banish me:
Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose The rosy spectre which every night
À ton chevet viendra danser. Will come to dance at your bedside.
   iii 

Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame But be not afraid—I demand

Ni messe ni De profundis; Neither Mass nor De Profundis;
Ce léger parfum est mon âme, This faint perfume is my soul,
Et j’arrive du paradis. And I come from Paradise.
Mon destin fut digne d’envie: My destiny was worthy of envy;
Et pour avoir un sort si beau, And for such a beautiful fate,
Plus d’un aurait donné sa vie, Many would have given their lives—
Car sur ton sein j’ai mon tombeau,* For my tomb is on your breast,
Et sur l’albâtre où je repose And on the alabaster where I lie,
Un poëte avec un baiser A poet with a kiss
Écrivit: Ci-gît une rose Has written: Here lies a rose
Que tous les rois vont jalouser. Which every king will envy.

 iii Sur les lagunes On the lagoons

Ma belle amie est morte: My dearest love is dead:
Je pleurerai toujours; I shall weep for evermore;
Sous la tombe elle emporte To the tomb she takes with her
Mon âme et mes amours. My soul and all my love.
Dans le ciel, sans m’attendre, Without waiting for me
Elle s’en retourna; She has returned to Heaven;
L’ange qui l’emmena The angel who took her away
Ne voulut pas me prendre. Did not wish to take me.
Que mon sort est amer! How bitter is my fate!
Ah! sans amour, s’en aller sur la mer! Alas! to set sail loveless across the sea!
La blanche créature The pure white being
Est couchée au cercueil. Lies in her coffin.
Comme dans la nature How everything in nature
Tout me paraît en deuil! Seems to mourn!
La colombe oubliée The forsaken dove
Pleure et songe à l’absent; Weeps, dreaming of its absent mate;
Mon âme pleure et sent My soul weeps and feels
Qu’elle est dépareillée. Itself adrift.
Que mon sort est amer! How bitter is my fate!
Ah! sans amour, s’en aller sur la mer! Alas! to set sail loveless across the sea!
Sur moi la nuit immense The immense night above me
S’étend comme un linceul; Is spread like a shroud;
Je chante ma romance I sing my song
Que le ciel entend seul. Which heaven alone can hear.
Ah! comme elle était belle, Ah! how beautiful she was,
Et comme je l’aimais! And how I loved her!
Je n’aimerai jamais I shall never love a woman
Une femme autant qu’elle. As I loved her.
Que mon sort est amer! How bitter is my fate!
Ah! sans amour, s’en aller sur la mer! Alas! to set sail loveless across the sea!
* The new Patrimoine edition by François Lesure has ‘Car j’ai ta gorge pour mon tombeau’.
   iv

 iv Absence Absence
Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée; Return, return, my sweetest love!
Comme une fleur loin du soleil, Like a flower far from the sun,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée The flower of my life is closed
Loin de ton sourire vermeil! Far from your crimson smile!

Entre nos cœurs quelle distance! Such a distance between our hearts!
Tant d’espace entre nos baisers! So great a gulf between our kisses!
Ô sort amer! ô dure absence! O bitter fate! O harsh absence!
Ô grands désirs inapaisés! O great unassuaged desires!

Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée! Return, return, my sweetest love!

Comme une fleur loin du soleil, Like a flower far from the sun,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée The flower of my life is closed
Loin de ton sourire vermeil! Far from your crimson smile!

D’ici là-bas, que de campagnes, So many intervening plains,

Que de villes et de hameaux, So many towns and hamlets,
Que de vallons et de montagnes, So many valleys and mountains
À lasser le pied des chevaux! To weary the horses’ hooves!

Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée! Return, return, my sweetest love!

Comme une fleur loin du soleil, Like a flower far from the sun,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée The flower of my life is closed
Loin de ton sourire vermeil! Far from your crimson smile!

 v Au cimetière At the cemetery

Connaissez-vous la blanche tombe Do you know the white tomb,
Où flotte avec un son plaintif Where the shadow of a yew
L’ombre d’un if? Waves plaintively?
Sur l’if, une pâle colombe, On that yew a pale dove,
Triste et seule, au soleil couchant, Sad and solitary at sundown
Chante son chant; Sings its song;

Un air maladivement tendre, A melody of morbid sweetness,

À la fois charmant et fatal, Delightful and deathly at once,
Qui vous fait mal Which wounds you
Et qu’on voudrait toujours entendre, And which you’d like to hear forever,
Un air, comme en soupire aux cieux A melody, such as in the heavens,
L’ange amoureux. A lovesick angel sighs.

On dirait que l’âme éveillée As if the awakened soul

Pleure sous terre à l’unisson Weeps beneath the earth together
De la chanson, With the song,
Et du malheur d’être oubliée And at the sorrow of being forgotten
Se plaint dans un roucoulement Murmurs its complaint
Bien doucement. Most meltingly.
   vi 

Sur les ailes de la musique On the wings of music

On sent lentement revenir You sense the slow return
Un souvenir; Of a memory;
Une ombre, une forme angélique A shadow, an angelic form
Passe dans un rayon tremblant, Passes in a shimmering beam,
En voile blanc. Veiled in white.

Les belles-de-nuit, demi-closes, The Marvels of Peru, half-closed,

Jettent leur parfum faible et doux Shed their fragrance sweet and faint
Autour de vous, About you,
Et le fantôme aux molles poses And the phantom with its languid gestures
Murmure, en vous tendant les bras: Murmurs, reaching out to you:
Tu reviendras? Will you return?

Oh! jamais plus, près de la tombe Ah! nevermore shall I approach that tomb,
Je n’irai, quand descend le soir When evening descends
Au manteau noir, In its black cloak,
Écouter la pâle colombe To listen to the pale dove
Chanter sur la pointe de l’if From the top of a yew
Son chant plaintif! Sing its plaintive song!

 vi L’île inconnue The unknown isle

Dites, la jeune belle, Tell me, pretty young maid,
Où voulez-vous aller? Where is it you would go?
La voile ouvre son aile, The sail is billowing,
La brise va souffler! The breeze about to blow!

L’aviron est d’ivoire, The oar is of ivory,

Le pavillon de moire, The pennant of watered silk,
Le gouvernail d’or fin; The rudder of finest gold;
J’ai pour lest une orange, For ballast I’ve an orange,
Pour voile une aile d’ange, For sail an angel’s wing,
Pour mousse un séraphin. For cabin-boy a seraph.

Dites, la jeune belle, Tell me, pretty young maid,

Où voulez-vous aller? Where is it you would go?
La voile ouvre son aile, The sail is billowing,
La brise va souffler! The breeze about to blow!

Est-ce dans la Baltique, Perhaps the Baltic,

Dans la mer Pacifique, Or the Pacific
Dans l’île de Java? Or the Isle of Java?
Ou bien est-ce en Norvège, Or else to Norway,
Cueillir la fleur de neige To pluck the snow flower
Ou la fleur d’Angsoka?* Or the flower of Angsoka?
* Engklokke (literally ‘meadow bell’) is the Campanula patula, a small harebell found in Norwegian meadows.
  

Dites, la jeune belle, Tell me, pretty young maid,

Où voulez-vous aller? Where is it you would go?

Menez-moi, dit la belle, Take me, said the pretty maid,

À la rive fidèle To the shore of faithfulness
Où l’on aime toujours. Where love endures forever.
—Cette rive, ma chère, —That shore, my sweet,
On ne la connaît guère Is scarce known
Au pays des amours. In the realm of love.

Où voulez-vous aller? Where is it you would go?

La brise va souffler. The breeze is about to blow!

 La belle Isabeau Fair Isabeau

(Alexandre Dumas, père)

Dans la montagne noire, On the black mountain,

Au pied du vieux château, At the foot of the old castle,
J’ai ouï conter l’histoire I heard them tell the tale
De la jeune Isabeau. Of young Isabeau.
Elle était de votre âge, She was your age,
Cheveux noirs et l’œil bleu. With black hair and blue eyes.

Enfants, voici l’orage! Children, the storm is brewing!

À genoux! priez Dieu! Fall to your knees! Pray to God!

La belle jeune fille The fair young maiden

Aimait un chevalier. Loved a knight.
Son père sous la grille Her father, like a jailer,
La tint comme geôlier. Kept her behind bars.
Le chevalier volage The fickle knight
L’avait vue au saint lieu. Had seen her in church.
Un soir, dans sa cellule One evening, Isabeau
Isabeau vit soudain, Suddenly saw the paladin
Sans crainte et sans scrupule, Enter her prison cell
Entrer le paladin. Without fear or qualms.
L’ouragan faisait rage, The hurricane raged,
Le ciel était en feu. The sky was ablaze.

Enfants, voici l’orage! Children, the storm is brewing!

À genoux! priez Dieu! Fall to your knees! Pray to God!

De frayeur Isabelle Isabelle’s heart

Se sentit le cœur plein: Filled with fear:
‘Où donc est, disait-elle ‘But where’, she said,
Le sire chapelain?’ ‘Can the chaplain be?’
Il est, suivant l’usage, He is, as he is wont to be,
À prier au saint lieu. At his prayers in church.
   

‘Venez! avant l’aurore ‘Come with me! Before dawn

Nous serons de retour.’ We shall be back!’
Hélas! son père encore Her father, alas, from that day on,
L’attend depuis ce jour. Awaits her still.

Enfants, voici l’orage! Children, the storm is brewing!

À genoux! priez Dieu! Fall to your knees! Pray to God!

 Zaïde Zaïde
(Roger de Beauvoir)

‘—Ma ville, ma belle ville, ‘My city, my beautiful city—

C’est Grenade au frais jardin; That’s Granada with its cool gardens,
C’est le palais d’Aladin, That’s the palace of Aladdin,
Qui vaut Cordoue et Séville! Worth all of Cordoba and Seville!
Tous ses balcons sont ouverts, All its balconies are open wide,
Tous ses bassins diaphanes; All its fountains crystal clear,
Toute la cour des sultanes The entire court of the Sultans
S’y tient près des myrtes vertes!’ Is there beneath green myrtle trees!’

Ainsi près de Zoraïde, Thus by Zoraïde’s side,

À sa voix donnant l’essor, With passion in her voice,
Chantait la jeune Zaïde, Young Zaïde sang,
Le pied dans ses mules d’or. Golden sandals on her feet.

‘—Ma ville, ma belle ville, ‘My city, my beautiful city—

C’est Grenade au frais jardin; That’s Granada with its cool gardens,
C’est le palais d’Aladin, That’s the palace of Aladdin,
Qui vaut Cordoue et Séville!’ Worth all of Cordoba and Seville!’

La reine lui dit: ‘Ma fille, The queen said to her: ‘My child,
D’où viens-tu donc?—Je n’en sais rien. Where are you from?’ ‘I do not know.’
—N’as-tu donc pas de famille? ‘Have you no family, then?’
—Votre amour est tout mon bien! ‘Your love is all I have!
Ô ma reine, j’ai pour père O my queen, for father
Ce soleil plein de douceurs. I have this gentle sun;
La sierra, c’est ma mère, The Sierra is my mother
Et les étoiles, mes sœurs!’ And my sisters the stars!’

‘—Ma ville, ma belle ville, ‘My city, my beautiful city—

C’est Grenade au frais jardin; That’s Granada with its cool gardens,
C’est le palais d’Aladin, That’s the palace of Aladdin,
Qui vaut Cordoue et Séville!’ Worth all of Cordoba and Seville!’

Cependant, sur la colline, But on the hillside

Zaïde à la nuit pleurait: Zaïde cried into the night:
‘Hélas! Je suis orpheline; ‘Alas, I am an orphan,
De moi qui se chargerait?’ Who will take care of me?’
  

Un cavalier vit la belle, A knight saw the beautiful girl,

La prit sur sa selle d’or. Lifted her onto his golden saddle.
Grenade, hélas! est loin d’elle, Alas, she is far from Granada now,
Mais Zaïde y rêve encor! But Zaïde still dreams of it!
‘—Ma ville, ma belle ville, ‘My city, my beautiful city—
C’est Grenade au frais jardin; That’s Granada with its cool gardens,
C’est le palais d’Aladin, That’s the palace of Aladdin,
Qui vaut Cordoue et Séville!’ Worth all of Cordoba and Seville!’

 La captive The captive girl

(Victor Hugo)

Si je n’étais captive, If I were not a captive,

J’aimerais ce pays, I should love this country,
Et cette mer plaintive, And this plaintive sea,
Et ces champs de maïs, And these fields of maize,
Et ces astres sans nombre, And these stars without number,
Si le long du mur sombre If in the wall’s dark shadow
N’étincelait dans l’ombre There did not glint
Le sabre des spahis. The spahis’* scimitar.
Je ne suis point tartare I was not born a Tartar
Pour qu’un eunuque noir For a black eunuch
M’accorde ma guitare, To tune my guitar
Me tienne mon miroir. And hold up for me my mirror.
Bien loin de ces Sodomes, Far away from this land of Sodom,
Au pays dont nous sommes, In our native country, we are permitted
Avec les jeunes hommes When evening falls,
On peut parler le soir. To talk with the young men.
Pourtant j’aime une rive And yet I love a land
Où jamais des hivers Where winter’s chill breath
Le souffle froid n’arrive Never crosses
Par les vitraux ouverts. Wide-open windows.
L’été, la pluie est chaude, In summer the rain is warm,
L’insecte vert qui rôde And the hovering insects
Luit, vivante émeraude, Gleam bright emerald
Sous les brins d’herbe verts. Beneath green blades of grass.
J’aime en un lit de mousses I love on a bed of moss
Dire un air espagnol, To sing a Spanish air,
Quand mes compagnes douces, While my sweet companions,
Du pied rasant le sol, Feet grazing the ground,
Légion vagabonde Nomadic throng
Où le sourire abonde, With generous smiles,
Font tournoyer leur ronde Dance and whirl
Sous un rond parasol. Beneath an open parasol.
* Spahi—A Turkish or Algerian horseman, serving in the army.
  

Mais surtout, quand la brise But most of all when a breeze

Me touche en voltigeant, Lightly brushes my cheek,
La nuit j’aime être assise, I love to sit at night,
Être assise en songeant, Sit and dream,
L’œil sur la mer profonde, Gazing on the deep sea,
Tandis que pâle et blonde, While the pale moon
La lune ouvre dans l’onde Opens across the water
Son éventail d’argent. Its silver fan.

B ERNER S, Lord (Sir Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson) (–)

The music of Berners has some of the hallmarks of the wealthy amateur dilettante, but even com-
posers as distinguished as Stravinsky found him interesting and diverting. (Berners’s piano piece Le
poisson d’or is dedicated to Stravinsky; it is prefaced by a French poem also written by Berners.) He
had a genuine gift for light music, and although it would be an exaggeration to call him the English
Satie, his good taste and understanding were veiled by irony, mockery, and wilful eccentricity in a
way that suggests the master of Arcueil. None of the Berners ballets is as important as Satie’s Parade,
but the songs present a similar combination of melodic charm to divert the music-lover, and a use
of dissonance to épater les bourgeois, as well as shock Berners’s fellow aristocrats. He tended to mock
the music (such as Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier) which one suspects he secretly loved. Berners was at
home in the French language, and his Mérimée opera Le carrosse du Saint Sacrement was given in
Paris in . The three songs in French all date from four years earlier: the texts of all these TROIS
CHANSONS are by the critic and musicologist G. Jean-Aubry who had a strong connection with the
firm of Chester, Berners’s publisher. Both Romance and L’étoile filante are quirky little philosophical
reflections, over in a trice. La fiancée du timbalier (no relation of Saint-Saëns’s Hugo setting) with
its spiky fanfares and military precision seems a relative of Stravinsky’s Histoire du
soldat, and of the Cocteau settings of Poulenc and other members of Les Six.

BER N S TEIN, Leonard (–)

There is a single cycle in French from this multi-talented American musician. LA BONNE CUISINE was
written in  for his recital partner, the celebrated Jenni Tourel. These are zany settings of recipes
from Émile Dumont’s La bonne cuisine française and the titles of the songs speak for themselves:
Plum pudding (no French equivalent given), Queues de bœuf, Tavouk guenksis, and Civet à toute
vitesse. The English performing version is by the composer himself.
 

BEY D TS , Louis (–)

The name of this deft and elegant composer of songs is almost forgotten, but there was a time when
certain singers championed his music over Poulenc’s. Ninon Vallin was affronted when that com-
poser asked her to sing a song entitled Mon cadavre est doux comme un gant (My corpse is as soft as
a glove) [  iv]. Her retort was that she much preferred the music of Beydts, and his choice
of texts. On the whole he avoided ‘difficult’ poetry, including the surrealists—the very poets who
give such strength and purpose to Poulenc’s song output. An exception to this is an atmospheric set-
ting (reminiscent of Poulenc’s La Grenouillère [ ]) of Apollinaire’s Le pont Mirabeau, as
well as Le présent (Louise Lalanne/Marie Laurencin). Beydts also set Si tu aimes of Cocteau and
Henri de Régnier’s Crépuscule. This composer had more than a little in common with his contem-
porary Poulenc in that he had a genuine feel for the voice (particularly that of the soprano), and an
awareness of just how evocative the art of a chansonnière in a smoke-filled boîte could be when
transplanted to the serious mélodie. On occasion he can topple into the sort of sentimentality which
dates his music in a way avoided by Poulenc, and he often lacks a sharply defined sense of melody,
preferring to spin long parlando lines, infinitely French in their ingratiating indolence. On the other
hand, Beydts has a real feeling for poets who have not been given their full due by other mélodie
composers: chief among these is Marceline Desbordes-Valmore whom he celebrates in the set LA
GUIRLANDE DE MARCELINE (–) which includes the pulsatingly feminine Un billet de femme (writ-
ten for Ninon Vallin), the lovely lullaby Pour l’enfant, and Amour partout with its text reminiscent
of a popular song.
Beydts wrote nearly a hundred mélodies: some of these, never less than gratefully written, would
repay revival from enterprising singers. Apart from the Desbordes-Valmore cycle mentioned above,
the best are settings of Beydts’s favourite poet, Paul Fort. The SIX BALLADES FRANÇAISES () bring
Caplet’s relationship with Fort’s poetry to mind, and Ronde autour du monde () was once con-
sidered a rallying cry for the peaceful coexistence of nations. CHANSONS POUR LES OISEAUX () also
have Fort texts. The third of these, L’oiseau bleu, is a catalogue of exotic names which recalls the
ornithological Messiaen (and which was prophetic of that composer’s preoccupation with birdsong),
as does the final Le petit serin en cage, which shows Beydts’s musical humour in a sad tale of a canary
eaten by a cat (Le bengali by Manuel Rosenthal also succumbs to a sad fate). Among earlier cycles
the CINQ HUMORESQUES of Tristan Klingsor () and QUATRE ODELETTES (Henri de Régnier, ) are
worthy of mention. La lyre et les amours (Tristan l’Hermite) was recorded by Pierre Bernac, and one
should not forget three haunting little songs to poems by Louis Codet—La flûte verte (with flute
obbligato), Nocturne (which was one of Cuenod’s favourite encores), and La petite noix. There is
another song with flute obbligato titled En Arles (Toulet) which is a homage to the famous faran-
dole from Bizet’s L’arlésienne. It is also notable that Beydts orchestrated Debussy’s LE PROMENOIR DES
DEUX AMANTS, Mandoline, and Colloque sentimental. The piano versions of Beydts’s own songs are to
be preferred to the orchestrations, which have touches of modernity (the vibraphone!) which have
not worn well, and suggest the film music of the s—this is if the recording of La lyre et les
amours is anything to go by.
  

BIN ET, Jean (–)

This Swiss composer studied in Geneva at the Jaques-Dalcroze Institute and his music is a delicate
blend of the influences of French impressionism and Dalcrozian theory. He went to America in 
where he studied with Bloch, and helped found the Dalcroze Rhythmic School in New York, as well
as the Cleveland Conservatory. He returned to Switzerland to occupy an honoured place in that
nation’s musical life; many of his orchestral works were first performed by Ansermet. His songs
deserve to be better known. Among the most attractive are the TROIS MÉLODIES on poems of
Apollinaire (). The opening of Annie, the first song in that set, pays charming tribute to Binet’s
connection with the United States: ‘Sur la côte de Texas | Entre Mobile et Galveston il y a | Un grand
jardin tout plein de roses.’ The other songs are Clotilde (also set by Honegger, among others) and
Aubade. Although these graceful mélodies were written for voice and orchestra, the piano reductions
work admirably well. Binet also set poems by Paul Fort (Le bonheur), Stravinsky’s collaborator
Ramuz (QUATRE CHANSONS, ) and there is a fine collection of songs (SIX MÉLODIES) to the poems
of Clément Marot (). Of later songs, the SIX CHANSONS (Jean Cuttat, ) exist in both piano-
accompanied and orchestral versions.

BIZ ET, Georges (–)

Unaccountably, the Bizet songs have received rather a bad press from a number of scholars who
point out that in his desire to achieve success as an opera composer Bizet treated the writing of
mélodies as hackwork. If music of this quality is hackwork, it is a pity that there is not more of it
to be found in French song. The same genius which delights and moves us in Carmen can be heard
at work here. It is true that the songs have something operatic about them, but this is seldom shown
by grandiose vocal demands and orchestrally inspired accompaniments—indeed the voice is always
used with the greatest skill within the smaller frame of song (there was singing on both sides of the
Bizet family), and the piano parts are lively and idiomatic for the instrument. Bizet simply places
most of his mélodies in something of a dramatic context, for this is how his mind works as a com-
poser for the stage.
The parallel example of Britten comes to mind, whose genius for theatre is felt everywhere in his
songs: for example, the flashback in The choirmaster’s burial (Hardy) is superbly managed because
the composer had already used the same device on a much grander scale in the opera Billy Budd. In
La coccinelle (a Hugo text set less interestingly by Saint-Saëns) Bizet is not content to recount the
story of a young man losing his nerve as a lover, he gives us an enchanting off-stage orchestra play-
ing a waltz. In his imagination the whole incident takes place at a ball in a large country house, and
Bizet is his own régisseur in providing a backcloth for the scene. In this ‘staging’ of a lyric, where the
poet’s ideas are supplemented and given new dimensions, Bizet is in good company, for this is also
one of Schubert’s great gifts. Another Hugo setting, Guitare (also set by Liszt, Lalo, and many oth-
ers less free with the poet’s verses), is intoxicatingly effective precisely because Bizet has surrounded
 

the poem with a frame of his own. He adds ‘Tra, la, las’ to the short lyric, a device which lengthens
the song and enables us to meet the singer and come to terms with her as a character. Settings of
this lyric by other composers, however charming and allusive, are anonymous by comparison, for in
this superb Spanish stylization (composed nine years before Carmen) it is one dancer who comes to
the fore as a star turn, with her reckless melismas, and a triumphantly steely change to the major
key when she sings of love. ‘Don’t meddle with me because I mean business’ is the subtext, and we
hear this behind, and in addition to, the lyric. It is a song which brings the house down, and which,
despite the textual lèse-majesté, reveals the meaning behind Hugo’s words.
Guitare is the fourth of six FEUILLES D’ALBUM () which is not only a compendium of mostly
fine poetry (Ronsard, Hugo, Millevoye, Lamartine), but an anthology of the composer’s style. (Bizet
seems to have taken the title of his set of songs from Berlioz’s Op. .) The differing tessitura of the
songs (Guitare for a soprano, and Rose d’amour for a contralto, for example) thwarts any inclination
to treat it as a cycle. The first two songs are to Musset texts. À une fleur looks back to the flowing
/ songs of Berlioz and is poised between melody and speech, an arioso of great difficulty, not in
any sense on account of its tessitura, but because the lengthy poem has to be held together by a
flawless vocal legato, and enlivened with an uncommonly subtle rubato. Bizet, again imagining his
singer as a character, has caught the musing sense of uncertainty, as in a game of ‘he loves me, he
loves me not’. Adieux à Suzon (the same poet’s Bonjour, Suzon is better known [ ]) is an
essay in the manner of Schubert’s Willkommen und Abschied (Goethe) where a daunting and vocal-
ly exhausting horse-ride of thundering triplets is contrasted with moments of reflection and doubt.
This song calls for the stamina of an intrepid tenor. Utterly different is the gentle Sonnet (Ronsard)
which is as lovely a piece of time-travel as one could wish; long before pastiche was the last refuge
of bad film music composers, Bizet evokes the sixteenth century with haunting archaisms which
match the grave beauty of the text to perfection. Rose d’amour is perhaps the weakest of the set; it is
a neo-classical hymn which Gounod, in one of his lofty moments, might have tackled successfully,
but which Bizet finds devoid of dramatic interest. Le grillon (Lamartine) is an astonishing tour de
force, very different from the Jules Renard setting of the same name by Ravel. The coloratura acro-
batics demanded of the poor singer are just not cricket—they suggest something approaching a bat
out of hell. For those who can sing Donizetti’s Lucia this will pose few problems, but the average
lyric soprano is warned. The piano part is very piquant and uses right-hand staccato chords to depict
the insect’s chirp. There was a volume of Schubert songs in Bizet’s library, and the motif of four
semiquavers preceded by an acciaccatura which pervades Le grillon was certainly lifted from
Schubert’s Der Einsame, a song about the cricket on the hearth, and published in France under the
title Les grillons. Bizet’s song was conceived for the great Swedish soprano Christine Nilsson who
wanted a display piece to show off her coloratura; she received just such a vehicle without the com-
poser having to compromise himself in the process.
There are two Choudens volumes (or recueils) of Bizet songs. The first, and more easily obtain-
able, is available in two keys, and has twenty items. This volume is packed with interest, although
certain mélodies stand out effortlessly. The delightfully fresh Chanson d’avril (Bouilhet, ) opens
the collection with its wonderful tune. How Fauré must have loved this song with its purling semi-
quaver accompaniment, open-hearted yet delicate; his own Nell was born of this lineage. The piano
rustles with just the right amount of frisson to suggest the stirrings of spring. In contrast it swoons
  

and sulks and dances in sultry fashion in Adieux de l’hôtesse arabe (Hugo, ), perhaps Bizet’s
most celebrated song, and also perhaps the greatest of all the oriental evocations in French music,
Ravel’s orchestrally accompanied SHÉHÉRAZADE excepted. I was led to this song (and persuaded
Felicity Lott to learn it) when reading in Poulenc’s Journal de mes mélodies of his admiration for
Bizet’s Arab hostess. Of this piece he remarks that the composer ‘knew how to vary a strophic song
in detail. That is often what is missing in Gounod.’ The scenario is over the top, and in lesser hands
the text could have been set along the same lines as the appropriately named Armando Ocampo’s
oriental poems for Bemberg. But this is Hugo after all, and although Bizet ruthlessly cut four of the
great man’s strophes, and adapted some of the remainder, the result is a haunting masterpiece. The
sinuous lilt of much of Carmen’s music here has its beginning; the gait of the piano writing suggests
hips swaying to the sound of tinkling bell or cymbal accompanied by the hypnotic throbbing of the
tabor. The direction on the last page which instructs the singer to use a voice ‘broken by sobs’ now
seems ill-advised. As in Guitare, Bizet uses melisma much more extensively than most composers of
mélodie; the final page, with its demandingly long phrases weaving languid tendrils on the trellis of
the stave, needs a very good singer indeed.
The other delights of the first recueil are less exotic by far: the courtly Vieille chanson (Millevoye,
?), with its suggestions of the charms and gallantries of the ancien régime; Ma vie a son secret
(Arvers, ), with its beautifully serene melody where Bizet affectionately parodies an older com-
poser’s style (note the seraphic piano interludes) with a Gounod and a wink; the Pastorale (Regnard,
) which, though the bergerette of this type is associated with the fake shepherds and shep-
herdesses of Versailles, evokes the earthier landscapes of Provence (there are the beginnings here of
the L’arlésienne music which Bizet would write four years later); the lilting / of the Berceuse of 
(one of the very few settings since the time of Pauline Duchambge of that fine poet Marceline
Desbordes-Valmore) derives unashamedly from the famous Hugo Sérénade of Gounod; the
enchanting barcarole Douce mer () for a high tenor, where Lamartine’s poem is reduced from
eighteen to three verses. It is also influenced by Gounod, and by Berlioz too, but the water glows
mysteriously under Bizet’s own inimitable stage lighting. We have already discussed La coccinelle
above, but mention should also be made of the outrageous Tarentelle (), a delicious trifle where
Pailleron’s poem is quite overwhelmed by ‘Tra la las’, and we do not even notice. I would hesitate
to ask most singers to battle with these runs, arpeggios, and chromatic scales, but Ann Murray has
exactly the right cheeky insouciance to see it off the stage.
The second recueil is a disappointment by comparison; it was published as a type of posthumous
homage to the composer. Bleeding chunks of unfinished and unpublished works were shamelessly
adapted to make a new volume of songs; the texts were on the whole added to music that had
already been composed for other purposes. It is no surprise, therefore, that this recueil contains
much indifferent poetry. Here we find no Hugo, Ronsard, or Lamartine. Ouvre ton cœur (Delâtre)
is one of the items with an original text. It is relatively often performed as a song (it is an infectious
bolero with touching changes between major and minor) but it actually comes from the ode-
symphony Vasco de Gama (–). This is seldom if ever performed, and the recitalist can be for-
given for appropriating this material. Chanson de la rose (Barbier, date unknown) is a charming trifle,
in the same dancing mood as Tarentelle, but without the hair-raising technical difficulties. The gen-
tly tripping accompaniment shows Bizet’s rather surprising interest in the music of Scarlatti and the
  

clavecinistes. Hidden shyly towards the back of the volume is Pastel (Gille, date unknown). It evokes
exactly the gentle charms that its title implies, and is a useful song for recitals built on a theme of
art and artists. It pictures the past in the same way as Schumann’s duet Familien-Gemälde. And
speaking of duets, we should not forget La fuite (Gautier, ) for soprano and tenor, an Arabic
extravagance also set by Duparc. Rêvons (Barbier) and other published duets by Bizet are publishing
sharp practice—reworkings of mélodies from the second recueil (not even the best of them) with
shamelessly adapted texts.

 La coccinelle The ladybird

(Victor Hugo)

Elle me dit: ‘Quelque chose She said to me: ‘Something’s

Me tourmente.’ Et j’aperçus Bothering me.’ And I saw
Son cou de neige, et, dessus, Her snow-white neck, and on it
Un petit insecte rose. A small rose-coloured insect.
J’aurais dû—mais, sage ou fou, I should have—but right or wrong,
À seize ans on est farouche,— At sixteen one is shy—
Voir le baiser sur sa bouche I should have seen the kiss on her lips
Plus que l’insecte à son cou. More than the insect on her neck.
On eût dit un coquillage; Like a shell it shone;
Dos rose et taché de noir. Red back speckled with black.
Les fauvettes pour nous voir The warblers, to catch a glimpse of us,
Se penchaient dans le feuillage. Craned their necks in the branches.
Sa bouche fraîche était là: Her fresh mouth was there:
Hélas! je me penchai sur la belle, I leaned over the lovely girl, alas,
Et je pris la coccinelle; And picked up the ladybird,
Mais le baiser s’envola. But... the kiss flew away!
‘Fils, apprends comme on me nomme’, ‘Son, learn my name,’
Dit l’insecte du ciel bleu, Said the insect from the blue sky,
‘Les bêtes sont au bon Dieu;* ‘Creatures belong to our good Lord,
Mais la bêtise est à l’homme.’ But only men behave like cretins.’

 Guitare Guitar
(Victor Hugo)

Comment, disaient-ils, How, said the men,

Avec nos nacelles, In our small craft
Fuir les alguazils? Can we flee the alguazils?†
—Ramez, disaient-elles. —Row, said the women.

* A ‘bête à bon Dieu’ is colloquial French for a ladybird.

† Spanish officers whose task is to arrest offenders and see execution done.
   

Comment, disaient-ils, How, said the men,

Oublier querelles, Can we forget feuds,
Misère et périls? Poverty and peril?
—Dormez, disaient-elles. —Sleep, said the women.

Comment, disaient-ils, How, said the men,

Enchanter les belles Can we bewitch the fair
Sans philtres subtils? Without rare potions?
—Aimez, disaient-elles. —Love, said the women.

 Sonnet Sonnet
(Pierre de Ronsard)

Vous méprisez nature: êtes-vous si cruelle You disdain nature: can you be so cruel
De ne vouloir aimer? voyez les passereaux And not wish to love? See the sparrows
Qui démènent l’amour, voyez les colombeaux, Who dance with love, see the little doves,
Regardez le ramier, voyez la tourterelle. See the ring-doves, see the turtle-doves.
Voyez deçà, delà d’une frétillante aile See how, with quivering wings, the amorous birds
Voleter par les bois les amoureux oiseaux, Flit to and fro among the woods.
Voyez la jeune vigne embrasser les ormeaux, See the young vine embrace the young elm,
Et toute chose rire en la saison nouvelle. And all things laugh in the new season.
Ici la bergerette en tournant son fuseau Here the shepherd-lass, plying her spindle,
Dégoise ses amours, et là le pastoureau Pours out her love, and there the shepherd-lad
Répond à sa chanson; ici toute chose aime, Replies to her song; here all things love,
Tout parle de l’amour, tout s’en veut enflammer. All speak of love, all wish to blaze with love.
Seulement votre cœur froid d’une glace extrême Your heart alone, with excessive frost,
Demeure opiniâtre et ne veut point aimer. Remains stubborn and will not love.

 Chanson d’avril April song

(Louis Bouilhet)

Lève-toi! lève-toi! le printemps vient de naître. Arise! Arise! Spring has just been born.
Là-bas, sur les vallons, flotte un réseau vermeil, Rosy gossamer floats over those distant valleys,
Tout frissonne au jardin, tout chante, et ta fenêtre, The whole garden quivers and sings, and your
window,
Comme un regard joyeux, est pleine de soleil. Like a happy glance, is full of sun.

Du côté des lilas aux touffes violettes, Beside the purple-clustered lilac,
Mouches et papillons bruissent à la fois; Flies and butterflies hum together;
Et le muguet sauvage, ébranlant ses clochettes, And the wild lilies-of-the-valley, shaking their bells,
A réveillé l’amour endormi dans les bois. Have awakened love asleep in the woods.

Puisqu’avril a semé ses marguerites blanches, Since April has sown its white daisies,
Laisse ta mante lourde et ton manchon frileux; Leave off your heavy cloak and wintry muff;
Déjà l’oiseau t’appelle, et tes sœurs les pervenches Birds call you, and your sister periwinkles
Te souriront dans l’herbe en voyant tes yeux bleus. Will smile in the grass at your blue eyes.
  

Viens, partons! Au matin, la source est plus limpide; Come, let us go! Morning springs are clearer!
N’attendons pas du jour les brûlantes chaleurs; Let us not wait for the heat of the day,
Je veux mouiller mes pieds dans la rosée humide, I would moisten my feet in the damp dew,
Et te parler d’amour sous les poiriers en fleurs! And talk to you of love beneath the flowering pears!

 Adieux de l’hôtesse arabe Farewell of the Arabian hostess

(Victor Hugo)

Puisque rien ne t’arrête en cet heureux pays, Since nothing can keep you in this happy land,
Ni l’ombre du palmier, ni le jaune maïs, Neither shade-giving palm nor yellow corn,
Ni le repos, ni l’abondance, Nor repose nor abundance,
Ni de voir à ta voix battre le jeune sein Nor the sight of our sisters’ young breasts trembling
De nos sœurs, dont, les soirs, le tournoyant essaim At your voice as, in a wheeling throng at evening,
Couronne un coteau de sa danse, They garland a hillside with their dance,

Adieu, beau voyageur! Hélas adieu! Oh! que n’es-tu Farewell, fair traveller! Ah! Why are you not like
de ceux those
Qui donnent pour limite à leurs pieds paresseux Whose indolent feet venture no further
Leur toit de branches ou de toiles! Than their roofs of branch or canvas!
Qui, rêveurs, sans en faire, écoutent les récits, Who, musing, listen passively to tales
Et souhaitent, le soir, devant leur porte assis, And dream at evening, sitting before their door,
De s’en aller dans les étoiles! Of wandering among the stars!

Si tu l’avais voulu, peut-être une de nous, Had you so wished, perhaps one of us,
Ô jeune homme, eût aimé te servir à genoux O young man, would willingly have served you,
kneeling,
Dans nos huttes toujours ouvertes; In our ever-open huts;
Elle eût fait, en berçant ton sommeil de ses chants, Lulling you asleep with songs, she would have
made,
Pour chasser de ton front les moucherons méchants, To chase the tiresome midges from your brow,
Un éventail de feuilles vertes. A fan of green leaves.

Si tu ne reviens pas, songe un peu quelquefois If you do not return, dream at times
Aux filles du désert, sœurs à la douce voix, Of the daughters of the desert, sweet-voiced sisters,
Qui dansent pieds nus sur la dune; Who dance barefoot on the dunes;
Ô beau jeune homme blanc, bel oiseau passager, O handsome young white man, fair bird of passage,
Souviens-toi, car peut-être, ô rapide étranger, Remember—for perhaps, O fleeting stranger,
Ton souvenir reste à plus d’une! More than one maiden will remember you!

Hélas! Adieu! bel étranger! Souviens-toi! Alas! Farewell, fair stranger! Remember!
   

 Vieille chanson Old song

(Charles Hubert Millevoye)

Dans les bois l’amoureux Myrtil Amorous Myrtil in the woods

Avait pris Fauvette légère: Once caught a merry warbler;
‘Aimable oiseau, lui disait-il, ‘Lovely bird’, he said,
Je te destine à ma bergère. ‘I’ll give you to my shepherdess.
Pour prix du don que j’aurai fait, As a reward for this gift,
Que de baisers!... Si ma Lucette The kisses she’ll give me! If Lucette
M’en donne deux pour un bouquet, Gives me two for a posy,
J’en aurai dix pour la Fauvette.’ For a warbler there’ll be ten!’

La Fauvette dans le vallon The warbler had left in the dale

A laissé son ami fidèle, Its faithful friend,
Et tant fait que de sa prison And so escaped the prison
Elle s’échappe à tire-d’aile. As swiftly as it could.
‘Ah! dit le berger désolé, ‘Ah’, said the anguished shepherd,
Adieu les baisers de Lucette! ‘Farewell, then, to Lucette’s kisses!
Tout mon bonheur s’est envolé My whole happiness has flown away
Sur les ailes de la Fauvette.’ On the warbler’s wings!’

Myrtil retourne au bois voisin, Myrtil returns to the nearby woods,

Pleurant la perte qu’il a faite; Weeping the loss he’d suffered.
Soit par hasard, soit à dessein, Whether by chance or by design,
Dans le bois se trouvait Lucette: Lucette was also there;
Sensible à ce gage de foi, And, touched by this pledge of faith,
Elle sortit de sa retraite, She slipped from her retreat
En lui disant: ‘Console-toi, Myrtil, And said: ‘Ah, Myrtil, be of good cheer—
Tu n’as perdu que la Fauvette.’ It’s only the warbler you’ve lost!’

 Ma vie a son secret My life has its secret

(Félix Arvers)

Ma vie a son secret, mon âme a son mystère. My life has its secret, my soul its mystery.
Un amour éternel en un moment conçu: An eternal love conceived in a moment:
Le mal est sans remède, aussi j’ai dû le taire, Since the ill has no cure, I have had to conceal it,
Et celle qui l’a fait n’en a jamais rien su. And she, the cause, has never known it.

Ainsi j’aurai passé près d’elle inaperçu, Thus I shall have passed unnoticed near her,
Toujours à ses côtes, et toujours solitaire. Ever at her side and ever alone.
Et j’aurais jusqu’au bout fait mon temps sur la terre, And I shall have spent my life on earth,
N’osant rien demander et n’ayant rien reçu. Daring to ask for—and receiving—nothing!

Pour elle, que le ciel a faite douce et tendre, And she, whom heaven has made so sweet and
tender,
Elle suit son chemin, distraite et sans entendre She goes dreaming on her way, not hearing
Le murmure d’amour élevé sur ses pas. Love’s murmur stirring in her wake.
  

À l’austère devoir, pieusement fidèle, Devoutly faithful to her austere duty,

Elle dira, lisant ces vers tout remplis d’elle: She will say, reading these lines imbued with her
being:
‘Quelle est donc cette femme?’ et ne comprendra ‘Who, then, is this woman?’ and will not
pas. understand!

 Tarentelle Tarantella
(Édouard Pailleron)

Le papillon s’est envolé, The butterfly has flown away,

La fleur se balance avec grâce. The flower sways gracefully.
Ma belle, où voyez-vous la trace, Where, my sweet, do you see
La trace de l’amant ailé? The trace of your winged lover?
Ah! Le papillon s’est envolé! Ah! The butterfly has flown away!

Le flot est rapide et changeant, The waves are swift and changing,
Toujours sillonnant l’eau profonde. Always furrowing the deep waters.
La barque passe, et toujours l’onde The boat passes by, and still the waves
Efface le sillon d’argent. Efface the silver wake.

Le papillon, c’est votre amour. The butterfly is your love,

La fleur et l’onde, c’est votre âme The flower and wave are your heart,
Que rien n’émeut, que rien n’entame, Which nothing can move nor penetrate,
Où rien ne reste plus d’un jour. Where nothing remains for more than a day.
Le papillon c’est votre amour. The butterfly is your love.

Ma belle, où voyez-vous la trace, Where, my sweet, do you see

La trace de l’amant ailé? The trace of your winged lover?
La fleur se balance avec grâce... The flower sways gracefully...
Le papillon s’est envolé! The butterfly has flown away!

 Ouvre ton cœur Open your heart

(Louis Delâtre)

La marguerite a fermé sa corolle, The daisy has closed its petals,

L’ombre a fermé les yeux du jour. Darkness has closed the eyes of day.
Belle, me tiendras-tu parole? Will you, fair one, be true to your word?
Ouvre ton cœur à mon amour. Open your heart to my love.

Ouvre ton cœur, ô jeune ange, à ma flamme, Open your heart to my ardour, young angel,
Qu’un rêve charme ton sommeil. May a dream beguile your sleep—
Je veux reprendre mon âme, I wish to recover my soul,
Comme une fleur s’ouvre au soleil! As a flower unfolds to the sun!
  

 Pastel Pastel
(Philippe Gille)

C’est un portrait de jeune fille, It is a young girl’s portrait,

On l’a fait au siècle passé, Painted in the past century,
Les ans l’ont à peine effacé! The years have scarcely faded it!
Ce regard où son âme brille This gaze where her soul shines
Est innocent et curieux, Is innocent and enquiring,
Me dit ces mots mystérieux: And speaks mysteriously to me:
Ne cherche pas ce qu’on peut lire ‘Seek to read no message
Dans mes yeux bleus couleur du temps, In my blue, time-coloured eyes,
Et n’y vois rien que le sourire And see nothing there but the smile
Qui t’attendait depuis cent ans. That has waited a century for you.’

À quoi cette enfant pensait-elle, What were this child’s thoughts,

Quand le peintre la regardait? When the painter gazed at her?
Son cœur avait-il un secret? Did her heart harbour a secret?
Sur sa bouche on voit un sourire, The smile you see on her lips,
Est-ce ironie, est-ce bonheur? Is it irony or happiness?
Que dit-il sous cet air railleur? What does it say beneath its mocking mien?
Il dit, je crois: à quoi bon lire It says, I think: ‘why ever read
Dans les feuillets noircis du temps? The blackened pages of time?
Vois-y seulement le sourire, Look only at the smile
Qui t’attendait depuis cent ans! That has waited a century for you!’

BLOC H, Ernst (–)

Born in Switzerland, but an American citizen from the s, Bloch (once a fashionable composer)
is primarily remembered today for his chamber and orchestral music on Jewish themes. He studied
in Frankfurt and Munich, but he also spent part of his studentship in Brussels and Paris. The four
HISTORIETTES AU CRÉPUSCULE (Mauclair, ) are not typical of the style of Bloch’s later music (that
of the epic Piano Quintet of –, for example) but they are attractive songs, well suited to the
texts, and not over-written for the piano. Complainte has a folksong feel about it, and Ronde is a lat-
ter-day danse macabre, lively and appealingly grotesque, with an appearance from the devil. The four
POÈMES D’AUTOMNE (Béatrix Rodès, , also orchestrated) are in a grander, more dramatic manner
which now seems rather inflated. The poetry strikes a melancholy pose which brings out a response
from Bloch typical of his highly emotive musical manner; but the Mauclair songs benefit from more
interesting texts, and are more useful recital items.
 

BOR D ES, Charles (–)

The lifelong passion of this wonderfully energetic musician was early music, and he did more than
anyone else of his generation to further the cause of plainchant, and the polyphony of Josquin,
Palestrina, and so on, not to mention the operas of Rameau. He established traditions of choral
singing of the highest order, and his work with his own Chanteurs de Saint-Gervais achieved
remarkable standards for the time. With d’Indy he was a founder of the Schola Cantorum, first as
a society for sacred music, and later as a school. He is still admired in Spain for his work on the
music of the Basques, and much of his own instrumental music is based on the folksongs of that
region of northern Spain. His folksong arrangements (ONZE CHANSONS DU LANGUEDOC, ) place
him next to Déodat de Séverac as a champion of that region of southern France; indeed Bordes was
among the first to encourage the younger Séverac to become a composer.
With this serious attitude to musical research it may perhaps seem surprising that Bordes was also
a pioneering mélodie composer with a great deal of flair (he was among the first to set the lyrics of
Paul Verlaine). There is little sign of scholastic academicism in his songs, which are inventive, atmos-
pheric, and long overdue for reassessment. There are two volumes of song, both posthumously edit-
ed by Pierre de Bréville. In the Rouart Lerolle volume there are no less than nine settings of Verlaine,
including Spleen (also set by Fauré and Debussy [  vi]), La bonne chanson (‘J’allais par des
chemins perfides’) [  iv], Épithalame (‘Donc, ce sera par un clair jour d’été’) ( from LA BONNE
CHANSON [  vii]), and Le son du cor s’afflige vers les bois [  ii]. Particularly beautiful
is a setting of a Verlaine poem unessayed by the major masters: Sur un vieil air (‘Le piano que baise
une main frêle’) weaves the melody of Plasir d’amour [ ] into a texture of murmuring piano
writing which seems halfway between Fauré and Debussy (cf. the Lipatti setting). The range of
Bordes’s circle was wide, for the songs are dedicated to Chausson and Chabrier, Albéniz and
Ropartz.
Mention should also be made of Bordes’s QUATRE POÈMES DE FRANCIS JAMMES, written for the dif-
ferent voices and vocal ranges of the ‘Quatuor vocal de la Schola Cantorum’; he was attracted to the
same poetry from which Lili Boulanger drew her CLAIRIÈRES DANS LE CIEL. There is also a lovely duet
entitled L’hiver with a text by Maurice Bouchor, and Madrigal à la musique, a choral setting of that
poet’s translation of Shakespeare’s Orpheus with his lute. A second recueil was published by Hamelle
which includes the jolliest of all Verlaine settings, Dansons la gigue!, which quotes the
Northumberland traditional song The keel row to dizzying effect for the pianist. Debussy was to pay
Bordes the compliment of lifting this tune as the basis for Gigues, the first of his Images for orches-
tra. The  setting of Verlaine’s Ô triste, triste était mon âme has the look of plainchant on the stave.
Equally fascinating and strange are four songs from Verlaine’s Paysages tristes from the same year
which pre-date both Fauré’s and Debussy’s Verlainian efforts; the set opens with a majestic Soleils
couchants and is followed by a setting of Chanson d’automne [  i, from the CHANSONS GRISES].
Amour évanoui (Maurice Bouchor) is a setting of the poem which, under the title of Le temps des
lilas, found fame as part of Chausson’s orchestral song cycle POÈME DE L’AMOUR ET LA MER [
]. This song’s long postlude is typical of Schumann’s undoubted influence on the piano writing of
Bordes.
   

 Sur un vieil air On an old air

(Paul Verlaine)

Le piano que baise une main frêle The piano kissed by a delicate hand
Luit dans le soir rose et gris vaguement, Gleams dimly in the pink grey evening,
Tandis qu’avec un très léger bruit d’aile While with the lightest brush of a wing
Un air bien vieux, bien faible et bien charmant A melody, truly old, truly faint, truly charming,
Rôde discret, épeuré quasiment, Floats quietly, as if frightened,
Par le boudoir longtemps parfumé d’Elle. About the room where long her scent had lingered.

Qu’est-ce que c’est que ce berceau soudain What is this sudden lullaby
Qui lentement dorlote mon pauvre être? That slowly caresses my poor being?
Que voudrais-tu de moi, doux chant badin? What would you want of me, sweet playful song?
Qu’as-tu voulu, fin refrain incertain What did you want, vague and subtle air
Qui vas tantôt mourir vers la fenêtre That soon will die away by the window,
Ouverte un peu sur le petit jardin? Opened a little onto the tiny garden?

 Dansons la gigue! Let’s dance the jig!

(Paul Verlaine)

Dansons la gigue! Let’s dance the jig!

J’aimais surtout ses jolis yeux, Most I loved her pretty eyes,
Plus clairs que l’étoile des cieux, Brighter than the heavens’ stars,
J’aimais ses yeux malicieux. I loved her impish eyes.

Dansons la gigue! Let’s dance the jig!

Elle avait des façons vraiment She truly had ways of afflicting
De désoler un pauvre amant, A poor lover’s heart—
Que c’en était vraiment charmant! It was quite charming the way she did!

Dansons la gigue! Let’s dance the jig!

Mais je trouve encore meilleur But even more I love

Le baiser de sa bouche en fleur The kiss of her mouth in bloom,
Depuis qu’elle est morte à mon cœur. Now that she’s dead to my heart.

Dansons la gigue! Let’s dance the jig!

Je me souviens, je me souviens I remember, I remember

Des heures et des entretiens, The times we spent together talking,
Et c’est le meilleur de mes biens. The best of all my memories.

Dansons la gigue! Let’s dance the jig!

 

BOUL A NGE R, Lili (–)

This composer, who, despite her early death, left ‘an exquisite body of work’ (Henri Barraud),
remains something of an enigma for the performer and listener. Of formidable intelligence and indi-
viduality, she studied with her sister Nadia and Paul Vidal, and broadened her horizons through her
sojourns in Italy (she was the first woman to win the coveted Prix de Rome). She was, however, a
chronic invalid (she suffered from Crohn’s disease) and, apart from her work in Rome for the fam-
ilies of the war-wounded, her life was a cosseted one in a way which suggests the young Elizabeth
Barrett. After listening to Boulanger’s music at length, one is amazed by the technical accomplish-
ment and depth of feeling, particularly in the epic choral work Du fond de l’abîme.
The size of Boulanger’s musical personality is reflected in the vitality, and one may even say vehe-
mence, of her work. This larger than life quality is accompanied by a pre-occupation with death;
her first song, written in , is Lettre de mort. Her later songs also scorn the traditional under-
statement of the mélodie. The music of the long cycle CLAIRIÈRES DANS LE CIEL (Jammes, –)
aspires to the sublime in a manner which sometimes approaches the self-conscious. There had of
course always been an ‘elevated’ and deeply Catholic French style which goes back to César Franck,
and which extends to Messiaen. We encounter it in some of the Caplet songs, in many composers
of the Franck school (Bréville, Chausson, Lekeu, and so on), and we certainly find it in CLAIRIÈRES
DANS LE CIEL , which is cyclical in form in the Franckian manner. There are also musical references to
Wagner’s Tristan which add to the work’s sumptuous effect.
How different this is from the music of the man whom Boulanger calls ‘Maître Fauré’ in the ded-
ication to this work, and whose middle name, not without justification, was ‘Urbain’. And there is
no doubt that she meant to make anything other than an urbane impression. There is much of the
hothouse in the manner of her music, not least in the cycle where the perfumed atmosphere created
by the Debussian harmonic language effectively suggests the mystery and eroticism of the narrator’s
relationship to the un-named ‘Elle’. The poetry of Jammes, a Catholic convert, is partly responsible
for the heady mix of sensuality and pudeur which pervades the work. Boulanger was not the only
composer attracted to the poetry of Jammes, but if we are tempted to wonder whether her response
to these texts was born of her own feelings and longings, the final impression is somehow imper-
sonal, and that we do not hear the composer’s own viewpoint behind the astonishingly accom-
plished music. The poems call for a male singer and are written in the first person, but the com-
poser observes at a distance. Many will admire this as being part of the mélodie’s long-established
manner of detachment and veiled eroticism (cf. Debussy’s CHANSONS DE BILITIS) but these songs, not
surprisingly, do not seem part of this male-dominated tradition either. Rather do they suggest some-
one passionately religious and religiously passionate, and at a stage in her life where one state of
mind was interchangeable with the other. It should be mentioned that twelve of the thirteen poems
set here by Boulanger formed part of an even longer song cycle, TRISTESSES, composed by Darius
Milhaud in  (Au pied de mon lit, the text of Boulanger’s fifth song, was not included in the
Milhaud cycle). Still competitive with her sister, Boulanger is determined to establish herself with
serious music on a grand scale, and in this she succeeds. (It is no surprise that eight of the thirteen
songs were orchestrated.) However the human being who seems never to have had a carefree (or
   i 

work-free) day in her childhood, and who was groomed for greatness from the cradle, is somehow
obscured by the composer, brilliant beyond her years. In this case, the disparity between human
experience and professional aspiration is moving, for one suspects that Lili’s need for independence
from her formidably possessive family was at least as great as her struggle against male musical preju-
dices in this era of suffragettes. If she had been spared to live a long and fulfilled life, she would have
astonished us with even finer music. She seems to me to be a composer who was still in the process
of growing into her redoubtable gifts. This makes her early death, ten days before Debussy’s, a real
tragedy for French music.
Even if there was something saint-like about Lili’s short life, she was deified, not always to the
advantage of her cause. Generations of the pupils of Mademoiselle (as her sister Nadia was respect-
fully addressed) were expected to accept without question her classification of Lili as on a par with
Bach and Mozart. This special pleading, born of an understandable family devotion, obscured Lili’s
real accomplishments as much as it vaunted them. The burnishing of the legend included Nadia
making a revision of the Jammes cycle for republication in . Whether this was necessary or not,
a performance of CLAIRIÈRES DANS LE CIEL is a rewarding undertaking for both singer and pianist. It is
a lengthy work, however, with thematic cross-references between the songs (as in Fauré’s LA BONNE
CHANSON) and difficult to perform in excerpts. Easier to programme in a mixed recital are the QUA-
TRE CHANTS, a Schirmer collection which comprises separate songs from  to , including the
Debussian Attente (), and Reflets (), as well as two settings of Maurice Maeterlinck. Dans
l’immense tristesse () displays a remarkable empathy with the poet Bertha Galéron de Calonne
who was a Helen Keller of her time, unable to see, hear, or speak. Boulanger’s setting with its
lugubrious movement in bare fifths reflects this isolation: it seems hermetically sealed as if attempt-
ing to depict an enormous void where music resonates in empty space. There is also a small canta-
ta for four voices, RENOUVEAU (Silvestre, –), which can be performed with either piano or
orchestral accompaniment.

CLAIRIÈRES DANS LE CIEL CLEARINGS IN THE SKY

(Francis Jammes)

 i Elle était descendue au bas de la She had gone down to the end of the
prairie meadow
Elle était descendue au bas de la prairie, She had gone down to the end of the meadow,
et, comme la prairie était toute fleurie and, since the meadow was all decked
de plantes dont la tige aime à pousser dans l’eau, with flowers whose stems thrive in water,
ces plantes inondées je les avais cueillies. I picked those water-flowers.
Bientôt, s’étant mouillée, elle gagna le haut She, now drenched, soon reached the top
de cette prairie-là qui était toute fleurie. of that flowering meadow.
Elle riait et s’ébrouait avec la grâce She was laughing and splashing with the awkward
dégingandée qu’ont les jeunes filles trop grandes. grace of girls who are too tall.
Elle avait le regard qu’ont les fleurs de lavande. Her eyes looked like lavender flowers.
   ii

 ii Elle est gravement gaie She is gravely cheerful

Elle est gravement gaie. Par moments son regard She is gravely cheerful. At times she looked
se levait comme pour surprendre ma pensée. up as if to catch what I was thinking.
Elle était douce alors comme quand il est tard She was gentle then, like at dusk
le velours jaune et bleu d’une allée de pensées. the blue-yellow velvet of pansies along a path.

 iii Parfois, je suis triste Sometimes I am sad

Parfois, je suis triste. Et, soudain, je pense à elle. Sometimes I am sad. And suddenly, I think of her.
Alors, je suis joyeux. Mais je redeviens triste Then, I am overjoyed. But I grow sad again,
de ce que je ne sais pas combien elle m’aime. not knowing how much she loves me.
Elle est la jeune fille à l’âme toute claire, She is the girl with the utterly limpid soul,
et qui, dedans son cœur, garde avec jalousie who, in her heart, jealously guards
l’unique passion que l’on donne à un seul. that unique passion, reserved for one man alone.
Elle est partie avant que s’ouvrent les tilleuls, She left before the lime trees bloomed,
et, comme ils ont fleuri depuis qu’elle est partie, and since they bloomed after she left,
je me suis étonné de voir, ô mes amis, I have been astonished to see, O my friends,
des branches de tilleuls qui n’avaient pas de fleurs. some lime tree branches devoid of flowers.

 iv Un poète disait A poet once said

Un poète disait que, lorsqu’il était jeune, A poet once said that, when he was young,
il fleurissait des vers comme un rosier des roses. he blossomed with verse like a rose-tree with roses.
Lorsque je pense à elle, il me semble que jase When I think of her, an inexhaustible fountain
une fontaine intarissable dans mon cœur. seems to babble in my heart.
Comme sur le lys Dieu pose un parfum d’église, As God gave the lily a church’s scent
comme il met du corail aux joues de la cerise, and set coral on the cheeks of the cherry,
je veux poser sur elle, avec dévotion, I wish devoutly to give her
la couleur d’un parfum qui n’aura pas de nom. the hue of a scent that shall have no name.

 v Au pied de mon lit At the foot of my bed

Au pied de mon lit, une Vierge négresse At the foot of my bed, my mother placed
fut mise par ma mère. Et j’aime cette Vierge a black Virgin. And I love this Virgin
d’une religion un peu italienne. with a somewhat Italianate piety.
Virgo Lauretana, debout dans un fond d’or, Virgo Lauretana, standing on a gold ground,
qui me faites penser à mille fruits de mer you who remind me of a thousand fruits de mer
que l’on vend sur des quais où pas un souffle d’air sold on quaysides where no breath of air
n’émeut les pavillons qui lourdement s’endorment, stirs the flags falling listlessly asleep,
Virgo Lauretana, vous savez qu’en ces heures Virgo Lauretana, you know that at such moments
où je ne me sens pas digne d’être aimé d’elle, when I feel myself unworthy of her love,
c’est vous dont le parfum me rafraîchit le cœur. it is your scent that revives my heart.
   ix 

 vi Si tout ceci n’est qu’un pauvre If all this is but a poor dream
rêve
Si tout ceci n’est qu’un pauvre rêve, et s’il faut If all this is but a poor dream, and if I must,
que j’ajoute, dans ma vie, une fois encore, once more in my life, add
la désillusion aux désillusions; disillusion to disillusion;
et, si je dois encore, par ma sombre folie, and, if I must once more, in my dark distraction,
chercher dans la douceur du vent et de la pluie seek in the sweetness of the wind and rain
les seules vaines voix qui m’aient en passion: the only voices—unreal ones—that adore me:
je ne sais si je guérirai, ô mon amie... I do not know, my friend, if I shall recover...

 vii Nous nous aimerons We shall love each other

Nous nous aimerons tant que nous tairons nos mots, We shall love each other so, that we shall be silent
en nous tendant la main, quand nous nous reverrons. as we hold out hands when next we meet.
Vous serez ombragée par d’anciens rameaux You will be shaded by old branches
sur le banc que je sais où nous nous assoierons. on the bench where I know we shall both sit down.
Donc nous nous assoierons sur ce banc, tous deux And so we shall sit down on this bench, we two
seuls... alone...
D’un long moment, ô mon amie, vous n’oserez... For a long while, my friend, you will not dare...
Que vous me serez douce et que je tremblerai... How gentle you will be with me and how I shall
tremble...

 viii Vous m’avez regardé avec toute You gazed at me with all your soul
votre âme
Vous m’avez regardé avec toute votre âme. You gazed at me with all your soul.
Vous m’avez regardé longtemps comme un ciel bleu. You gazed at me long like a blue sky.
J’ai mis votre regard à l’ombre de mes yeux... I set your gaze in the shade of my eyes...
Que ce regard était passionné et calme... How this gaze was passionate and calm...

 ix Les lilas qui avaient fleuri The lilacs which had flowered
Les lilas qui avaient fleuri l’année dernière The lilacs which had flowered last year
vont fleurir de nouveau dans les tristes parterres. will soon flower once more in dismal beds.
Déjà le pêcher grêle a jonché le ciel bleu The slender peach has already strewn the blue sky
de ses roses, comme un enfant la Fête-Dieu. with its pinks, like a child at Corpus Christi.
Mon cœur devrait mourir au milieu de ces choses, My heart should have died amid these things,
car c’était au milieu des vergers blancs et roses for it was amid the orchard’s whites and pinks
que j’avais espéré je ne sais quoi de vous. that I had hoped from you I know not what.
Mon âme rêve sourdement sur vos genoux. My soul dreams secretly on your lap.
Ne la repoussez point. Ne la relevez pas, Do not reject it. Do not raise it up,
de peur qu’en s’éloignant de vous elle ne voie for fear that, drawing away from you, it might see
combien vous êtes faible et troublée dans ses bras. how frail you are and troubled in its embrace.
   x

 x Deux ancolies se balançaient sur la Two columbines swayed on the hill

colline
Deux ancolies se balançaient sur la colline. Two columbines swayed on the hill.
Et l’ancolie disait à sa sœur l’ancolie: And one columbine said to its sister columbine:
Je tremble devant toi et demeure confuse. I tremble before you and feel abashed.
Et l’autre répondait: si dans la roche qu’use And the other replied: if in the rock, worn away
l’eau, goutte à goutte, si je me mire, je vois drop by drop by water, I mirror myself, I see
que je tremble, et je suis confuse comme toi. that I am trembling, and feel abashed like you.

Le vent de plus en plus les berçait toutes deux, The wind rocked them both more and more,
les emplissait d’amour et mêlait leurs cœurs bleus. filled them with love and mingled their blue hearts.

 xi Par ce que j’ai souffert Through what I suffered

Par ce que j’ai souffert, ma mésange bénie, Through what I suffered, my sweetest,
je sais ce qu’a souffert l’autre: car j’étais deux... I know what another suffered: for I was two...
Je sais vos longs réveils au milieu de la nuit I know of your long vigils at the dead of night
et l’angoisse de moi qui vous gonfle le sein. and your anguish for me that makes your breast
heave.
On dirait par moments qu’une tête chérie, It is at times as though a cherished face,
confiante et pure, ô vous qui êtes la sœur des lins trusting and pure,—O you the sister of flowering
flax,
en fleurs et qui parfois fixez le ciel comme eux, who at times will also stare at the sky—
on dirait qu’une tête inclinée dans la nuit as though a face, bowing to the night
pèse de tout son poids, à jamais, sur ma vie. were bearing down, for evermore, with all its weight
on my life.

 xii Je garde une médaille d’elle I keep a medallion of her

Je garde une médaille d’elle où sont gravés I keep a medallion of her, engraved
une date et les mots: prier, croire, espérer. with a date and the words: pray, believe, hope.
Mais moi, je vois surtout que la médaille est sombre: But above all I see the medallion lacks lustre:

son argent a noirci sur son col de colombe. the silver has darkened on her dove-like neck.

 xiii Demain fera un an Tomorrow will mark a year

Demain fera un an qu’à Audaux je cueillais Tomorrow will mark a year since at Audaux I
picked
les fleurs dont j’ai parlé, de la prairie mouillée. the flowers I spoke of from the drenched meadow.
C’est aujourd’hui le plus beau jour des jours de Today is the most lovely Easter day.
Pâques.
Je me suis enfoncé dans l’azur des campagnes, I plunged deep into the blue countryside,
à travers bois, à travers prés, à travers champs. across woods, across meadows, across fields.
  

Comment, mon cœur, n’es-tu pas mort depuis un How is it, O heart, you did not die a year ago?
an?
Mon cœur, je t’ai donné encore ce calvaire O heart, once more I have caused you this anguish
de revoir ce village où j’avais tant souffert, of seeing again this village where I suffered so,
ces roses qui saignaient devant le presbytère, these roses that bled before the vicarage,
ces lilas qui me tuent dans les tristes parterres. these lilacs that kill me in their dismal beds.
Je me suis souvenu de ma détresse ancienne, I have recalled my former distress
et je ne sais comment je ne suis pas tombé and do not know why I did not fall
sur l’ocre du sentier, le front dans la poussière. headlong in the dust on the ochre path.
Plus rien. Je n’ai plus rien, plus rien qui me Nothing more. I have nothing more, nothing to
soutienne. sustain me.
Pourquoi fait-il si beau et pourquoi suis-je né? Why is the day so lovely and why was I born?
J’aurais voulu poser sur vos calmes genoux I would have wished to place on your tranquil lap
la fatigue qui rompt mon âme qui se couche the fatigue which breaks my soul and lies
ainsi qu’une pauvresse au fossé de la route. like a poor woman by the roadside ditch.
Dormir. Pouvoir dormir. Dormir à tout jamais To sleep. To be able to sleep. To sleep for evermore
sous les averses bleues, sous les tonnerres frais. beneath the blue showers and the fresh thunder.
Ne plus sentir. Ne plus savoir votre existence. No longer to feel. No longer to know you exist.
Ne plus voir cet azur engloutir ces coteaux No longer to see this blue sky engulf these hills
dans ce vertige bleu qui mêle l’air à l’eau, in this reeling blue which mingles air and water,
ni ce vide où je cherche en vain votre présence. nor this void where I search for you in vain.
Il me semble sentir pleurer au fond de moi, I seem to feel a weeping within me,
d’un lourd sanglot muet, quelqu’un qui n’est pas là. a heavy silent sobbing, someone who is not there.
J’écris. Et la campagne est sonore de joie. I write. And the countryside is loud with joy.

... Elle était descendue au bas de la prairie, ... She had gone down to the end of the meadow,
et comme la prairie était toute fleurie... and since the meadow was all decked with flowers . . .

BOUL A NGER, Nadia (–)

The family background was extraordinary: a father  years old when she was born, a mother forty
years younger who claimed to be a Russian princess, and who was ambitious for, and severe with,
her daughter, never giving her a word of praise. And then a sister, Lili, with whose well-being she
was charged by her father at the age of . Nadia, pupil of Fauré, had a distinguished career at the
Conservatoire but failed four times to win the Prix de Rome. She became Lili’s composition teacher,
and one can only imagine the guilt-inducing mixture of pride and envy Nadia felt when her sister
won the prize at her second attempt. The stage was set for Nadia’s retreat from her own hopes and
ambitions as a composer, and a life devoted to conducting and teaching, but not until at least four
years after Lili’s premature death. In  she made her debut as a composer with a performance of
her song Versailles (Samain) at the Grand Palais; Hamelle published this, and at least twelve more
of her early songs, including Soleil couchant (Verlaine), a gravely eloquent Élégie (also Samain, one
of the older Fauré’s favourite poets), a Heine setting Was will die einsame Träne?, and a spare
Cantique (Maeterlinck) reminiscent of late Fauré.
 

As early as  she had become the protégée of the distinguished pianist Raoul Pugno
(–) and their relationship and collaboration was the subject of some speculation. Boulanger
composed a concerto-like Fantaisie for him which he played, and she conducted. Pugno was also a
composer, and in  the pair collaborated on a large song cycle (an enterprise curiously reminis-
cent of Robert and Clara Schumann’s LIEBESFRÜHLING cycle, Op. ) entitled LES HEURES CLAIRES
(Verhaeren). This music is rather similar in style (as in title) to Lili Boulanger’s CLAIRIÈRES DANS LE
CIEL which was composed a few years later.
Boulanger’s last works to be published () were a set of five songs to poems by Camille
Mauclair (Chanson, Le couteau, Doute, Au bord de la route, and L’échange). These works are much
more economical of utterance than her earlier songs. The influence of neo-classical Stravinsky can
be detected, and the composer’s Russian ancestry (surely a hidden link between the two lifelong
friends) gives rise to a darkly introspective mood in the fourth song. They well deserve an airing,
and on the strength of these works alone one can understand the remark made by Fauré as a very
old man, when Nadia visited him in the rue de Vigne: ‘I’m not sure you did the right thing in giv-
ing up composition.’ After saying this, Fauré moved to the piano and played by heart an exercise
she had written for a class when she was a teenager. We are used to acknowledging Nadia
Boulanger’s greatness as a teacher of composition, and the devotion of her students was legendary;
but that her talents as a composer inspired this type of compliment from Fauré himself allows us to
glimpse the extent, and cost, of her renunciation.

BOUL EZ , Pierre (b. )

Even more than Messiaen, the music of Boulez seems out of place in a study of French song as the
concert enthusiast would understand it. Unlike Messiaen (who wrote his own texts) Boulez has writ-
ten a number of important and masterful works where poetry by important French literary figures
is of the essence. In his music, poetry suggests the musical forms without dominating them in typ-
ical mélodie fashion; nevertheless it plays a crucial part in the composer’s imaginative process, some-
thing which Boulez has in common with the conventional masters of French song. From early in
his career he was attracted to the poetry of René Char: Boulez provided the music for this poet’s
radio play Le soleil des eaux (), and he also looked to Char for the texts of one of the most cel-
ebrated of all twentieth-century avant-garde song cycles—LE MARTEAU SANS MAÎTRE (–, rev. ).
The other important poet in Boulez’s output is Mallarmé; indeed such was his devotion to this poet
that he may claim to have inherited him directly from Ravel, and to have become Mallarmé’s most
ardent champion in the second half of the century. It is a paradox that this poet, himself an ardent
Wagnerian, should have become the darling of the French avant-garde. There are three works with
the title Improvisations sur Mallarmé (I, II, and III, –), as well as Tombeau () and Don
(–). All of these works were written for soprano and various instrumental combinations, and
were incorporated into PLI SELON PLI. The poet may seem to be treated in cavalier fashion by the tra-
ditional standards of word-setting, but a closer study reveals that Boulez reveres these texts; his main
interest in this demanding style is to reflect the poet’s revolutionary syntax in musical form.
  

BOW L ES, Paul (b. )

This American composer renowned equally for his music and his fiction (his wife was the writer
Jane Bowles) had a strong link with French North Africa, where he lived on and off for many years.
His interest in ethnomusicology led him to spend a decade in Tangier (from ). His first French
songs date from : Danger de mort (G. Linze), Memnon (Cocteau), and SCÈNES D’ANABASE III
(Perse). Later songs in French include Ainsi parfois nos seuils and Voici la feuille (the latter a typical-
ly Bowlesian quirky waltz) to his own texts.

BR ÉVIL L E, Pierre de (–)

Bréville is a surprisingly prolific composer, with some  songs to his credit, only  of which were
unpublished. The most important songs are to be found in two recueils which were issued by Rouart
Lerolle in  and . Bréville was a pupil of Franck, though there are signs that Fauré and
Debussy had places in his pantheon. This duality is typical of the generation of musicians who were
able to benefit from the musical influences of both the Schola Cantorum and the Conservatoire. It
is hardly surprising that Bréville’s music often brings that of Ernest Chausson to mind, a composer
who had studied with both Franck and Massenet. Bréville’s main weakness is a lack of true feeling
for the sensuality of the voice which he sometimes treats as just another orchestral instrument; thus
it is no surprise to find that he has written a set entitled QUATRE SONATINES VOCALES. He actually set
Baudelaire’s Harmonie du soir () before Debussy [  ii] and his setting of Moréas’s La
forêt charmée precedes the setting of the same poem (under the title of Dans la forêt du charme et de
l’enchantement) by Chausson [ ]. On the other hand, his  setting of the Mallarmé
poem Sainte post-dates the song by Ravel [ ], as does the late and unpublished () setting
of Klingsor’s La flûte enchantée [  ii].
His earlier mélodies (e.g. Hugo’s Extase) seem rather heavily Wagnerian, but the later songs (set-
tings of Henri de Régnier –) show a fastidious choice of text and an increasingly individual
and transparent musical style. Of these Venise marine is a favourite. Also from this period is the song
Une jeune fille parle (Moréas) which was sung by Claire Croiza and recorded with the composer as
accompanist. This exceptional singer championed Bréville’s work and took the title role in his opera
Éros vainqueur ; a number of the songs are dedicated to her including some of the DOUZE RONDELS DE
CHARLES D’ORLÉANS (), a book of six each for high and medium voice. These are almost mini-
malist in comparison to the sumptuous accompaniments of the earlier work, but are effective
stylizations without adopting the guise of pastiche that we find in some of Reynaldo Hahn’s DOUZE
RONDELS to different texts of the same poet (although both composers made settings of Gardez le trait
de la fenestre). On the other hand they also lack the charm of Hahn, for it is surely the earnest qual-
ity of many of Bréville’s songs, and their rather stiff prosody, that have exiled them from the reper-
toire. As a critic Bréville was cut and dried in his dismissal of Bizet and his distaste for Berlioz, opin-
ions which typified his generation’s reactions against earlier masters of the mélodie.
 

A few other works should be mentioned: Bréville was attracted (like Chausson) to the poetry of
Maurice Bouchor and Élégie, Chanson d’amour, and Chanson triste are all to be found in the first
recueil; Le furet du bois joli (Bénédict, ) is a pastiche in galant style, and one of Bréville’s best-
known songs; Childe Harold () is a Byron portrait by Heine (Bréville admired German music
and literature); Aimons-nous (Banville) is a useful duet—both Saint-Saëns and the young Debussy
set it as a solo song); there are two late Rimbaud settings, Les corbeaux (c.) and Le dormeur du
val (c.), which remain unpublished. This is a pity as songs by this poet are exceedingly rare from
French composers, and seem more forthcoming from foreigners (see Britten, Henze, Hoiby,
Lipatti).

BR IT TEN , Benjamin (–)

Unlike his friend Lennox Berkeley, Benjamin Britten was no Francophile. One thinks of a line in
Billy Budd set with just a little too much relish not to have something of the composer himself in
it: ‘Don’t like the French, don’t like their lingo.’ He had originally wanted to study with Alban Berg
in Vienna, not Nadia Boulanger in Paris (the disdain seems to have been mutual, exacerbated by
their differing regard for Stravinsky, and a disastrous dinner before a Queen’s Hall concert in the
s when the nervous young composer, invited to sit at Boulanger’s side, inadvertently spilled ice
cream on her black velvet dress). A study of song recently published in France, which includes an
admiring chapter on Britten, makes the point succinctly: ‘he was never more natural or lively than
when setting a foreign language, despite a prosody and accentuation which are not exactly those of
the French language.’
Britten went on a jaunt to Paris in January , when an innocent expedition to the Folies
bergères turned into, to the composer’s horror, a distressing (but uneventful) visit to what turned out
to be a brothel. The seedy side of French life did not appeal. He was nevertheless drawn at an early
age to the evocative perfume of French literature. In February , at the age of , he composed
Dans les bois, an orchestral piece. This seems to have been inspired by a Gérard de Nerval poem of
the same title, for in June of the same year he wrote a song to that text. Soon afterwards he com-
posed the QUATRE CHANSONS FRANÇAISES for soprano and orchestra, his biggest work to date, and ded-
icated it to his parents for their th wedding anniversary. This work reflects the young composer’s
composition lessons with Frank Bridge. The four songs are Nuits de juin (Hugo), Sagesse (‘Le ciel est
par-dessus le toit’, set as Prison by Fauré [ ] and by Hahn as D’une prison), L’enfance (Hugo),
and Chanson d’automne, the opening song of CHANSONS GRISES by an equally precocious Reynaldo
Hahn [  i]. The music shows Bridge’s influence, but also a real ability to recreate the delicate
colour and evocative mood of the French manner somehow assimilated as a result of listening to
concerts and radio broadcasts. These songs are the first of his many stylizations, and an astonishing
achievement in one so young. When the work came to be published by Faber in  (there is a
piano score of the work), the composer Colin Matthews, charged with editing the work, had almost
nothing to change in the orchestration. But he did alter the prosody of the vocal line where the
composer had wrongly accented the words.
   i 

A lack of familiarity with the exactitudes of French prosody is also a problem in Britten’s most
celebrated work in French, the song cycle LES ILLUMINATIONS (Arthur Rimbaud, ). This fact was
ruefully confirmed in conversations I had with Pierre Bernac. The Achilles heel of Britain’s musical
young Apollo has never seemed to bother English singers; but it is a work which seems not to have
been taken up by French-speaking musicians, although its first performer and dedicatee was the
Swiss soprano Sophie Wyss (A French tenor of the younger generation recently informed me it was
easy enough to make the necessary small adaptations to the prosody). Rimbaud occupies almost a
sacred place in French literature, and it is significant that on the whole French composers have left
him unset. For the rest of the world, Britten’s understanding of Rimbaud’s various moods (the poet’s
work was no doubt introduced to him by W. H. Auden or Edward Sackville-West) seems beyond
criticism; he does indeed possess ‘la clef de cette parade sauvage’. The cycle has a flair and elegance,
a sumptuous sensuality notwithstanding an economy of means, which encapsulates English-speak-
ing longing for the ‘luxe, calme et volupté’ of a culture more sensual than our own. Apart from the
‘calme’ of Baudelaire’s phrase, the work has more than a touch of the sinister and disturbing,
reflecting the poet’s complex and highly strung nature, and no less the composer’s. Maggie Teyte
performed this cycle with piano, but the piece requires the colours of the string orchestra to work
its magic. The violas’ evocation of trumpets in the opening Fanfare announces the composer’s
unerring touch from the beginning. LES ILLUMINATIONS is also almost embarrassingly (and
unashamedly) tonal for its time. Indeed the awestruck Aaron Copland told Britten that Nadia
Boulanger would never have let him stay so long in the key of B flat major without modulating (in
the song Antique—‘Gracieux fils de Pan’).
Britten also made a volume of French folksong settings (–). These include, among others, the
delightful Voici le printemps, a melting setting of La belle est au jardin d’amour, and a potent and hyp-
notic Il est quelqu’un sur terre, a French Gretchen am Spinnrade with an obsessively grinding spinning
wheel. The rollicking Quand j’étais chez mon père seems to have been conceived alongside Peter Grimes;
there is a vivid resemblance between the folksong and the dance music (also marked
‘alla Ländler’) for off-stage band, as Mrs Sedley makes her meddling accusations in the opera’s last act.
The opera Albert Herring is modelled on a Maupassant story, but Britten returned to the world
of French literature only once in his song writing, and then only obliquely. The words of his
cantata Phaedra for mezzo-soprano and small orchestra () are drawn from Racine’s
Phèdre, but the composer, whose life was drawing to a close, decided to set the work in English to
the free translation of the American poet Robert Lowell.

LES ILLUMINATIONS ILLUMINATIONS

(Arthur Rimbaud)

 i Fanfare Fanfare
J’ai seul la clef de cette parade sauvage. I alone hold the key to this savage parade.
   ii

 ii Villes Towns
Ce sont des villes! C’est un peuple pour qui se sont These are towns! This is a people for whom these
montés ces Alleghanys* et ces Libans de rêve! Ce sont imagined Alleghanies and Lebanons have been raised!
des villes! Des chalets de cristal et de bois se meuvent Towns! Chalets of crystal and wood move on invis-
sur des rails et des poulies invisibles. Les vieux ible rails and pulleys. Old craters, encircled by colos-
cratères ceints de colosses et de palmiers de cuivre si and palms of copper, roar melodiously in the fires.
rugissent mélodieusement dans les feux. Ce sont des These are towns! Cortèges of Queen Mabs, in russet
villes! Des cortèges de Mabs en robes rousses, opa- and opaline robes, climb up from the ravines. Up
lines, montent des ravines. Là-haut, les pieds dans la there, their hoofs in the waterfalls and brambles, the
cascade et les ronces, les cerfs tettent Diane. Les deer suckle at Diana’s breast. Bacchantes of the sub-
Bacchantes des banlieues sanglotent et la lune brûle urbs sob, and the moon burns and howls. Venus
et hurle. Vénus entre dans les cavernes des forgerons enters the caves of blacksmiths and hermits. These
et des ermites. Ce sont des... Des groupes de beffrois are... Groups of belfries ring out peoples’ ideas. From
chantent les idées des peuples. Des châteaux bâtis en castles built of bone unknown music issues. These are
os sort la musique inconnue. Ce sont des villes! Ce towns! These are towns! The paradise of storms sub-
sont des villes! Le paradis des orages s’effondre. Les sides. Savages dance unceasingly the festival of night.
sauvages dansent sans cesse la fête de la nuit. Ce sont These are towns!
des villes!
Quels bons bras, quelle belle heure me rendront What kindly arms, what lovely hour will restore to
cette région d’où viennent mes sommeils et mes me those regions from which my slumbers and my
moindres mouvements? slightest movements come?

 iii Phrase Phrase

J’ai tendu des cordes de clocher à clocher; des guir- I have hung ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands
landes de fenêtre à fenêtre; des chaînes d’or d’étoile à from window to window; golden chains from star to
étoile, et je danse. star, and I dance.

 iv Antique Antique
Gracieux fils de Pan! Autour de ton front couronné Graceful son of Pan! Around your brow, crowned
de fleurettes et de baies tes yeux, des boules pré- with little flowers and berries, your eyes—precious
cieuses, remuent. Tachées de lies brunes, tes joues se globes—move. Stained with brown sediment, your
creusent. Tes crocs luisent. Ta poitrine ressemble à cheeks are hollowed out. Your tusks gleam. Your
une cithare, des tintements circulent dans tes bras breast resembles a cithara, tintinnabulations course
blonds. Ton cœur bat dans ce ventre où dort le dou- through your white arms. Your heart pulses in that
ble sexe. Promène-toi, la nuit, en mouvant douce- belly where Hermaphrodite sleeps. Walk forth, at
ment cette cuisse, cette seconde cuisse et cette jambe night, gently moving this thigh, that second thigh,
de gauche. and that left leg.

* Part of the Appalachian mountains; from the West, the Alleghany plateau slopes to the Central Plain.
   viii 

 v Royauté Royalty
Un beau matin, chez un peuple fort doux, un homme One beautiful morning, among a most gentle people,
et une femme superbes criaient sur la place publique: a man and a woman of proud presence cried out in
‘Mes amis, je veux qu’elle soit reine!’ ‘Je veux être the public square: ‘Friends, I want her to be queen.’
reine!’ Elle riait et tremblait. Il parlait aux amis de ‘I want to be queen!’ She laughed and trembled. To
révélation, d’épreuve terminée. Ils se pâmaient l’un his friends he spoke of a revelation, of a trial con-
contre l’autre. cluded. They swooned against each other.
En effet, ils furent rois toute une matinée, où les And during one whole morning, whilst the crim-
tentures carminées se relevèrent sur les maisons, et soned hangings festooned the houses, and during the
tout l’après-midi, où ils s’avancèrent du côté des whole afternoon, as they headed for the palm gar-
jardins de palmes. dens, they were indeed monarchs.

 vi Marine Marine
Les chars d’argent et de cuivre— Chariots of silver and copper—
Les proues d’acier et d’argent— Prows of steel and silver—
Battent l’écume,— Thrash the foam—
Soulèvent les souches des ronces. Rip up the bramble roots.
Les courants de la lande, The streams of the wasteland,
Et les ornières immenses du reflux, And the huge ruts of the ebb-tide
Filent circulairement vers l’est, Flow away in a circle toward the east,
Vers les piliers de la forêt, Toward the pillars of the forest,
Vers les fûts de la jetée, Toward the piles of the jetty,
Dont l’angle est heurté par des tourbillons de Whose quoins are battered by whirlpools of light.
lumière.

 vii Interlude Interlude

J’ai seul la clef de cette parade sauvage. I alone hold the key to this savage parade.

 viii Being beauteous Being beauteous

Devant une neige un Être de Beauté de haute taille. Against a background of snow, a tall Being of Beauty.
Des sifflements de mort et des cercles de musique Death’s wheezing and circles of muffled music cause
sourde font monter, s’élargir et trembler comme un this adored body to rise, to swell, to quiver like a
spectre ce corps adoré; des blessures écarlates et noires spectre; scarlet and black wounds break out on the
éclatent dans les chairs superbes. Les couleurs propres glorious flesh. The true colours of life deepen, dance
de la vie se foncent, dansent, et se dégagent autour de and detach themselves around the Vision in the mak-
la Vision, sur le chantier. Et les frissons s’élèvent et ing. And tremors rise and rumble, and the frenzied
grondent, et la saveur forcenée de ces effets se flavour of these effects, being burdened with the
chargeant avec les sifflements mortels et les rauques dying gasps and raucous music that the world, far
musiques que le monde, loin derrière nous, lance sur behind us, hurls at our mother of beauty, recoils and
notre mère de beauté,—elle recule, elle se dresse. Oh! rears up. Oh! our bones are dressed in a new and lov-
nos os sont revêtus d’un nouveau corps amoureux. ing body.
  ix

Ô la face cendrée, l’écusson de crin, les bras de Ah! The ashen face, the horsehair escutcheon, the
cristal! le canon sur lequel je dois m’abattre à travers crystal arms! the cannon at which I must charge
la mêlée des arbres et de l’air léger! across the tangle of trees and soft air!

 ix Parade Sideshow
Des drôles très solides. Plusieurs ont exploité vos These are very real rogues. Several have exploited
mondes. Sans besoins, et peu pressés de mettre en your worlds. Having no needs, and in no hurry to
œuvre leurs brillantes facultés et leur expérience de put into action their brilliant gifts and their experi-
vos consciences. Quels hommes mûrs! Des yeux ence of your consciences. What mature men! Vacant
hébétés à la façon de la nuit d’été, rouges et noirs, tri- eyes like a summer night, red and black, tricoloured,
colores, d’acier piqué d’étoiles d’or; des faciès défor- steel studded with stars of gold; features deformed,
més, plombés, blêmis, incendiés; des enrouements leaden, livid, inflamed; wanton hoarsenesses! The
folâtres! La démarche cruelle des oripeaux!—Il y a cruel swagger of tawdry finery!—There are youths
quelques jeunes! among them!
Ô le plus violent Paradis de la grimace enragée! Most violent paradise of maddened grimaces!
Chinois, Hottentots, bohémiens, niais, hyènes, Chinese, Hottentots, gypsies, simpletons, hyenas,
Molochs, vieilles démences, démons sinistres, ils Molochs, old insanities, sinister demons, they mingle
mêlent les tours populaires, maternels, avec les poses popular and maternal tricks with bestial poses and
et les tendresses bestiales. Ils interpréteraient des caresses. They would perform new plays and
pièces nouvelles et des chansons ‘bonnes filles’. respectable songs. Master jugglers, they transform
Maîtres jongleurs, ils transforment le lieu et les per- place and person and make use of magnetic comedy.
sonnes et usent de la comédie magnétique.
J’ai seul la clef de cette parade sauvage. I alone hold the key to this savage parade!

 x Départ Departure
Assez vu. La vision s’est rencontrée à tous les airs. Enough seen. The vision was encountered under all
skies.
Assez eu. Rumeurs des villes, le soir, et au soleil, et Enough had. Murmurs of the towns at night, and
toujours. in the sun, and always.
Assez connu. Les arrêts de la vie.—O Rumeurs et Enough known. The decrees of life.—O Sounds
Visions! and Visions!
Départ dans l’affection et le bruit neufs! Departure into new affection and new clamour!

BRUN EAU , Alfred (–)

A friend of Zola and a perspicacious writer on music, this prolific composer of operas in the veris-
mo style contributed an impressive number of songs to the repertoire. These include settings of such
poets as Ronsard, Gautier, and Silvestre and are seldom if ever performed today. He is best (if at all)
remembered for his settings of Catulle Mendès evoking the folksong manner in couplets (strophes)
such as Le sabot de frêne or L’heureux vagabond. Also by Mendès are the texts for songs in the pas-
  

tiche mode, as in the DIX LIEDS DE FRANCE () and SIX CHANSONS À DANSER (), the best of which
is probably La sarabande in which Cardinal Mazarin makes an appearance, and the poet prophesies
that revolutionary mobs will one day dance in the streets. Bruneau’s music often has an unashamed
socialist slant, or it can be sentimental in the manner of the age (such as his Christmas song,
Lavedans’s Le nouveau-né ). When writing in his folksong style he can also, as Koechlin put it, evoke
large horizons and a feeling of the open air. Later songs from the large œuvre include Cœur au cré-
puscule, Brumes, and Marine written variously for such distinguished singers as Croiza and Bathori.
These all come from a cycle entitled CHANTS DE LA VIE (Saint-Georges de Bouhélier, Gregh, Bataille—
).

BÜS S ER, Henri (–)

This long-lived friend of Gounod and Debussy, conductor (with Messager) of the first performances
of Pelléas et Mélisande, and professor of composition at the Conservatoire was a song composer of
modest ambition. Chiefly interesting are his large number of settings of Charles Cros, including
L’abandonée (), which uses the same poem as that of the Chanson perpétuelle [ ]. It
is instructive to see how both composers cut the poem mercilessly, Chausson in the interests of
brevity, Büsser as a prudish bowdlerizer at the appearance of the sexy bits. Perhaps this is because
the work was written for the famous Scottish soprano Mary Garden. The three DUETTOS () for
female voices are much more light-hearted, and a useful addition to the repertoire; the poet of these,
Gabriel Vicaire, also provided the text of Robin et Marion, a duet for soprano and tenor.

C A N TELOUB E , Joseph (–)

At the Schola Cantorum, and under d’Indy’s watchful eye, Canteloube made a number of Verlaine
settings, the most successful of which was Colloque sentimental () [  iii] with string
quartet accompaniment. He also indulged his taste for orchestrated vocal music from early in his
career: Églogue d’automne (Roger Frêne), Au printemps (originally written for Maggie Teyte,
although she did not sing the first performance), and TRIPTYQUE (three songs with poems by Frêne)
were written between  and ; all had orchestral accompaniment on a rather grand scale. The
most original vocal work of these years was L’ARADA (La terre), a cycle of six mélodies in folksong
vein with elaborate piano accompaniments which traverse the whole range of the keyboard. The
poems were written in the langue d’oc of Antonin Perbosc, and translated into French by the com-
poser himself.
In  Canteloube had embarked on the serious business of folksong collection. This work was
crowned by the publication (between  and ) of his Anthologie des chants populaires français,
a collection of some , songs in four volumes. There are also a number of volumes dedicated to
the music of other French regions like Champagne, Touraine, and the Basque country. Canteloube
 

was certainly one of the most important of the French folksong collectors, but it is his fate that he
should now be known only for his arrangements of the CHANTS D’AUVERGNE. These appeared in five
volumes between  and  (the last recueil is generally thought to be weaker than the first four)
and have found much favour with velvet-voiced sopranos in search of something tuneful on the bor-
ders of popular song. Audiences with a taste for easy listening have always clamoured for more of
this music, and these arrangements have even given rise to a film and a ballet. The CHANTS D’AU-
VERGNE have always had their ardent admirers, particularly among the singers (Madeleine Grey,
Victoria de los Angeles, Kiri Te Kanawa) for whom they have made a perfect vehicle. They have even
been compared to Falla’s work in the realm of folksong, and it is true that the composer strictly
respected the original melodies, reserving his lavish flights of fancy for the accompaniments. On the
other hand, the hardy simplicity of this music can often seem lost in the lush orchestrations which
threaten to overpower the tunes which gave rise to them. It might be thought that the solution is
to perform the works with piano, but that too is unsatisfactory. The vocal score reductions are fussy
and difficult, and one misses the highly coloured orchestrations which are as much a part of the
music’s charm as they are problematic. Singers and pianists should unearth the more piano-friend-
ly AIRS TENDRES DES e ET e SIÈCLES, the NOËLS POPULAIRES FRANÇAIS , or the neglected cycle L’ARADA
which was at least conceived for the instrument. The composer has paid for his great, though lim-
ited, popularity; his serious and deeply felt opera Le mas, for example, is not thought to merit a hear-
ing.

C A P L ET, André (–)

Pierre Bernac used to say that Forêt from the Caplet cycle LE VIEUX COFFRET was his favourite song
in all the French repertoire. This is high praise indeed, but it reflected a personal connection
between singer and composer. Caplet was among the first to champion the young Bernac’s singing,
and would have established a recital duo with him if early death had not intervened, the long-term
result of war-wounds and gas poisoning in the First World War. Caplet was apparently an extraor-
dinary accompanist with a magical command of tonal colour, and this is what one would have
expected from such an ardent Debussian (he orchestrated part of Le martyre de Saint-Sébastien, and
conducted its first performance). Of the composers who followed that master, and attempted to
emulate his special world of rarefied and sensual mystery, Caplet is the most important because the
most individual.
Caplet confined himself to songs and choral and chamber music in his mature years. Despite
being a fine opera conductor (he was at the Boston Opera from  to ) he never seems to have
had theatrical ambitions, for this was a man of almost legendary modesty and probity. If his music
has a fault, it is because it is unfailingly fastidious. This is a source of great joy to his admirers who
see in him the quintessential French song composer; his work has about it the aura of the recher-
ché, as if fans of Caplet (‘who?’ asks the average listener) have been initiated to an especially culti-
vated understanding of the mélodie. But there is a sameness to some of the music, particularly the
arpeggio-derived accompaniments in hushed cascades of exquisiteness; and even more
  

than Fauré, Caplet refused to make concessions to public taste, refraining from promoting his own
work. Even the best of composers needs a little of that push. He lacked Debussy’s ruthlessness and
will to succeed, but his best songs are the equal of Debussy’s in terms of refinement and acute sen-
sitivity, if not in terms of earthiness and visceral response to the poet’s texts. Apart from an early
Green () [  iii,   v] and an exquisite setting of Hugo’s Une flûte invisible which
had attracted a number of composers, including Saint-Saëns, Caplet avoided texts composed by his
great predecessors, preferring to look for poets of his own, such as Jean-Aubry, Rémy de Gourmont,
and Paul Fort.
Almost all of Caplet’s songs are worthy of study. The first vocal set of his maturity is TROIS POÈMES
() to the texts of Jean-Aubry. Of the three songs Ce sable fin et fuyant, Angoisse, and Préludes, the
last two are orchestrated. The harmonic complexity of Angoisse suggests that Caplet was already
acquainted with the work of Arnold Schoenberg (and touches of that master’s dark wit and whim-
sy in his Pierrot lunaire mode can also be detected in the later La Fontaine settings). The  set-
ting of Charles d’Orléans’s En regardant ces belles fleurs (later set by Jean Françaix) and the spare sin-
gle page of Quand reverrai-je, hélas! (, du Bellay) are especially beautiful. The latter song was
written under enemy fire at the battle front. This and the song Détresse! (Charasson, ), which
was written in memory of a soldier lost in action, are testament to Caplet’s old-fashioned determi-
nation to serve his country. They surely belong in any anthology of First World War songs, along-
side Debussy’s Noël des enfants qui n’ont plus de maisons and Poulenc’s Bleuet, not to mention English
songs by Gurney and Butterworth.
It is astonishing that some of Caplet’s greatest and most concentrated works were written in these
years of upheaval. Nuit d’automne (Régnier) and Solitude (Ochsé) both date from ; both are dark
and melancholy in different ways and show the composer’s anguish in those sad times. The
Gourmont cycle LE VIEUX COFFRET dates from . The first three songs in the set—Songe, Berceuse,
In una selva oscura—are all masterful, but it is the fourth mélodie Forêt which is, above all, a must
for those wishing to single out one Caplet song from the others. The poem encourages the com-
poser to draw on a wide range of instrumental colour in the piano; the fluidity of the vocal line lends
an appropriately rustling magic to the music of the forest. This is supple and full of languor, and
generates at the same time a real sense of excitement, even ecstasy.
The year  saw the composition of two works of extraordinary confidence, as if in a way Caplet
had been liberated by Debussy’s death the year before. The CINQ BALLADES FRANÇAISES DE PAUL FORT
are heard increasingly in the concert hall, and justifiably so. The beautiful and succinct poems
encourage a pithy musical response, no less luxuriant in terms of pianism, but almost more con-
centrated than LE VIEUX COFFRET. Cloche d’aube is perhaps more of a piano piece with vocal obbli-
gato than a song (complete with the composer’s familiar pianistic mannerisms) but the music is
wholeheartedly in the service of the poem. La ronde, written in a straightforward / of merry child-
like quavers, is less perfumed than the other songs in the set, but rather welcome for reasons of con-
trast. It seems to breathe an air of post-war relief and a confidence in a new order of friendship
between nations. Notre chaumière en Yveline is the least individual of the set; the title refers to the
département outside Paris which includes Versailles and Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Songe d’une nuit
d’été is an ecstatic nocturne, and L’adieu en barque an extraordinarily ornate barcarole, where we
can detect the composer’s debt to the Debussy of L’île joyeuse. Most refreshing of all are the TROIS