André Ernest Modeste Grétry, the author of “Richard Cœur de Lion,” was
born at Liège on the 11th of February, 1741. At the age of seven years
he was placed by his father, a poor musician and one of the violinists
of the Collegiate Church of St. Denis, as a chorister in that church.
The unfortunate little boy, who was of a delicate constitution and who
suffered from hemorrhages throughout the whole of his laborious
existence, was obliged to walk six times every day from his home to the
church—a distance of about a mile—in order to take part in the services.
Matins were sung, even in the most rigorous days of winter, between five
and six o’clock in the morning. One day the child arrived somewhat late
at this early service, and although he was not to blame, the
choir-master obliged him to remain upon his knees for two hours in the
midst of his fellow choristers. This punishment had such an effect upon
little Grétry, who was naturally of a timid disposition, that he would
awake several times during the night in a state of fear lest he should
arrive too late. “Without considering the hour or the weather, I would
often start off as early as three o’clock in the morning, through snow
and ice, and would sit down at the door of the church, warming my hands
at my little lantern, which I held on my knees. In this way I used to
sleep more peacefully, because I was sure that they could not open the
door without waking me.”
Grétry finally emancipated himself from this choir, which was a
veritable scholastic place of torment, having learned scarcely anything
of music. His first professor of any importance was the organist of the
Church of St. Pierre at Liège, M. Renekin, who gave him lessons in
counterpoint for two years, and kindly encouraged him in his early
essays in instrumental music. The young musician also studied under
Moreau, a talented musician and a methodical and conscientious
professor.
In order to finish his musical studies and because of an ardent desire
to visit other countries, Grétry conceived the idea of going to Rome to
establish himself there. The idea of separation was not a pleasant one
for his father. He opposed it for two reasons: his son’s delicate
health, and the expense which would necessarily be incurred. However,
there was no choice but to yield before the determination expressed by
this young aspirant to musical glory; and Grétry, who was then eighteen
years of age, started from Liège for Rome. He set forth on foot—being
destitute of the means which would enable him to make this long journey
by coach or on horseback—after having seen performed a mass of his own
composition, in recognition of which a present was made him by the
canons of St. Denis.
With a small stock of money and a pair of pistols given him by his
grandfather to defend himself against the highwaymen—there were
highwaymen then, and many of them on the roads of beautiful Italy—Grétry
set out with a guide named Remacle, who, in spite of his sixty years,
was accustomed to travel on foot from Liège to Rome, and from Rome to
Liège, regularly twice a year. His ostensible profession was that of a
guide, but he also followed the less respectable and more remunerative
calling of smuggler. Remacle fraudulently carried into Rome quantities
of fine Flanders lace, while from Rome he brought back relics and Popes’
slippers which he supplied to the convents in the Netherlands. Whether
these slippers had really been worn by his Holiness and whether the
relics had the origin ascribed to them by the honest Remacle, it is not
necessary to inquire here: rumor said so, and by faith we attain
salvation.
When the day fixed for the departure of the young musician arrived, the
guide went to the house of Grétry’s parents. His coming might be likened
to the appearance of a spectre to this poor couple, so deeply affected
were they by the departure of their child. Without a word the little
fellow laid hold of his valise and strapped it on his back; then knelt
down with his hands clasped before his father and mother and asked their
blessing. “God bless thee, dear child!” were the simple words pronounced
by the broken-hearted parents, and then the traveller disappeared with
his guide.
The son was not less moved than his father and mother, whose kindly
faces were bathed in tears and wore the ashy hue of death. “As soon as I
was able to think calmly,” writes the musician, “I felt tears trickling
down my cheeks, and I said: ‘O God, grant that thy poor creature may one
day become the support and consolation of his unfortunate parents!’” How
touching is this simple scene, how eloquently does it speak in favor of
this patriarchal household which Grétry, by his genius, has made
illustrious; and how strongly are our sympathies moved by the
immortality earned for it by this most sensible of sons!
The brave youth, who was accompanied by a young surgeon, walked
regularly ten leagues a day with his knapsack upon his back. Those were
hard day’s marches. At Trèves the two young men began to fear that they
would not be able to go any farther, but their energetic determination
gave them strength, and they continued their journey, still at the rate
of ten leagues a day. They passed through the Tyrol, singing the while,
and braved the dangers of the avalanches, and a few days later stood in
rapt admiration of the beautiful land of the Milanese. They afterward
visited the artistic curiosities of Florence. Every part of Italy was in
their eyes an enchanted region. At last Grétry saluted the Eternal City,
which he entered by the Porta del Popolo. He had ample time to make
himself thoroughly familiar with Rome and to carefully study the works
of the Italian masters, then so greatly renowned; for he remained at
least nine years in Italy. Here he made his early efforts in sacred and
in theatrical music, but without achieving any brilliant success. He was
then feeling his way, and did not as yet know for what particular style
of music he was best fitted. Chance, however, brought to his notice a
comic opera by Monsigny, and he at once felt that his true vocation was
the music best suited to comedy. But as Paris was the only field which
offered him the means of making himself known to advantage in this
branch of musical art, he resolved to settle in the French capital.
In this biography of Grétry it would be unjust to omit the name of the
Swedish Envoy, the Comte de Creutz, who raised the musician’s hopes and
helped him to continue his struggle at times when he felt greatly
depressed. M. de Creutz had divined the degree of genius exhibited in
the early attempts of our musician, although they had not been publicly
successful, and it is fitting that his name should be mentioned in
connection with the successes of his illustrious protégé. Grétry never
lost an opportunity of testifying his deep gratitude to M. de Creutz.
When, after his long sojourn in Italy, the composer was guided by his
lucky star to settle in Paris, he had neither harpsichord nor
pianoforte, and it appears that for some time he pursued his studies
without having one of these instruments which are of the first necessity
for a composer. It was upon a clavichord lent him by M. Louet that the
composer wrote: “Les Mariages Samnites,” “Lucile,” “Le Huron,” “Le
Tableau Parlant,” “Le Sphinx,” “Les Deux Avares,” “L’Amitié à
l’Epreuve,” and “Zemire et Azor.”
In the clavichord, which was the predecessor of the spinet, brass rods
are used instead of pen nibs to make the chords vibrate. Grétry’s
clavichord, which may be found in the interesting collection of the
Instrumental Museum at the Paris Conservatoire, possesses only four
octaves and two notes, as was usually the case with the clavichords of
the seventeenth century. We asked permission of M. Pillaut, the learned
conservator of the Instrumental Museum, to take a photograph of this
clavichord, which is not only highly interesting in itself, but because
it was the faithful confidant of the master’s inspiration. M. Pillaut
gave the permission asked, and we think it right to tender him our
thanks.
[Illustration:
GRETRY’S CLAVICHORD AT THE INSTRUMENTAL MUSEUM AT THE PARIS
CONSERVATOIRE.
From a photograph made by special permission.
]
Grétry passed the last years of his life at Montmorency, near Paris, in
a house called the _Hermitage_, where the celebrated writer Jean Jacques
Rousseau lived for some time and died. Here, retired from the world,
Grétry received his faithful friends of the last days, notably D’Alayrac
and Boieldieu, who lived in a cottage near the _Hermitage_. The old
master loved to talk about his art to those who succeeded him in the
career, and he lavished upon them the precious counsels of his
experience. It was in acknowledgment of this great service that
Boieldieu dedicated to Grétry his charming _Opera-Comique, “Jean de
Paris.”_ During the latter part of his life Grétry composed nothing, and
after the death of his wife, which occurred March 17, 1807, he very
rarely visited the theatre. In 1812 Grétry partially rewrote his score
of _Elisa_, which was his last bit of composition. On Sept. 12, 1813,
feeling very ill, he wrote the following letter to M. Le Breton, life
secretary of the department of Fine Arts at the Institute:—
“My dear colleague: It is impossible for me to be present at the
Institute for the judgment of the musical prize. On arriving at the
Hermitage, still convalescent, I was attacked with a hemorrhage which
lasted three days, and from which I lost a pint and a half of blood,
leaving me extremely weak. I now await the end of my long sufferings. I
am resigned, but in leaving this life, I feel that one of my keenest
regrets will be never again to meet my dear colleagues whom I love no
less than I honor them. I pray you to let them see this letter. Adieu,
my dear colleague; I embrace you with all my heart.