(CÉsar Franck: born in LiÈge, Belgium, December 10, 1822; died in Paris, November 8, 1890) "LES ÉOLIDES," [53] SYMPHONIC POEM [54] This symphonic poem, composed in 1876, was suggested by the opening lines of a poem by Leconte de Lisle, though the derivation is not avowed in the score. A prose translation of these lines may be given as follows: "O floating breezes of the skies, sweet breaths of lovely spring, that with capricious kisses caress the hills and the plains! "Virgins, daughters of Æolus, lovers of peace, eternal Nature wakens to your songs!" [55]
Æolus was conceived by the Greeks to be a companion of the gods and master of the winds. Jeremy Collier wrote of him: "Æolus, a king of the seven islands betwixt Italy and Sicily called ÆoliÆ, very Hospitable, he taught his People to use Sails, and by observing the Fire or Smoak of Strongyle (Stromboli) could predict how the Winds would blow, whence the Poets call'd him the God of the Winds. He was also a skilful Astrologer, which contributed to this Fiction. There were Three of this Name." This is how Ulysses described to King Alcinous his visit to Æolus: "To the Æolian island we attain'd,
That swum about still on the sea, where reign'd
The God-lov'd Æolus Hippotades.
A wall of steel it had; and in the seas
A wave-beat-smooth rock moved about the wall.
Twelve children in his house imperial
Were born to him; of which six daughters were,
And six were sons, that youth's sweet flower did bear.
His daughters to his sons he gave as wives;
Who spent in feastful comforts all their lives,
Close seated by their sire and his grave spouse.
Past number were the dishes that the house
Made ever savor; and still full the hall
As long as day shined." [56]
"THE WILD HUNTSMAN," SYMPHONIC POEM [57] Le Chasseur Maudit, composed in 1883, tells the story of BÜrger's ballad, Der Wilde JÄger. This argument, in prose, is prefaced to the score: "'Twas a Sunday morning; far away resounded the joyous sound of bells and the joyous chants of the crowd.... Sacrilege! The savage Count of the Rhine has winded his horn. "Halloo! Halloo! The chase rushes over corn-fields, moors, and meadows.—'Stop, Count, I entreat you; hear the pious chants!'—No! Halloo! Halloo!—'Stop, Count, I implore you; take care!'—No! and the riders rush on like a whirlwind. "Suddenly the Count is alone; his horse refuses to go on; the Count would wind his horn, but the horn no longer sounds.... A dismal, implacable voice curses him: 'Sacrilegious man,' it cries, 'be forever hunted by Hell!' "Then flames flash all around him.... The Count, terror-stricken, flees faster and ever faster, pursued by a pack of demons, ... by day across abysses, by night through the air." [58] In the music there is first a portrayal of the serene Sabbath landscape, the chanting chorus; there is pealing of bells, and the sacred song rises to a climax.
Then follows the entry of the ribald huntsmen, led by the Count; the chase is pictured, and we hear the complaints of the protesting peasants. The Count, suddenly left alone, attempts in vain to wind his horn; then, in uncanny and terrifying tones, the curse is pronounced. The Infernal Chase begins, there are wild horn calls; the pace grows more and more precipitous until the close.
SUITE, "PSYCHE" [59] - PSYCHE'S SLEEP (Sommeil de PsychÉ)
- PSYCHE BORNE AWAY BY THE ZEPHYRS (PsychÉ enlevÉe par les ZÉphirs)
- THE GARDENS OF CUPID (Les Jardins d'Eros)
- PSYCHE AND CUPID (PsychÉ et Eros)
Franck composed in 1887-88 a symphony for chorus and orchestra entitled "PsychÉ," the text of which is credited to Messrs. Sicard and Fourchard. In 1900 four parts of the work, written for orchestra alone, were extracted and published in the form of a suite, with the titles quoted above. The tale of Cupid and Psyche, as told by Apuleius in "The Golden Ass," has been thus admirably paraphrased by Mr. H. E. Krehbiel: "Psyche was a mortal, the daughter of a king, whose beauty was so great that she received the homage, almost the worship, which was the due of Venus. Wherefore the goddess resolved to revenge herself upon the proud beauty, and asked her son, Cupid, to inspire in her a passion for a low-born creature unworthy of her. Then should Psyche be humiliated and Venus come into her rights again. Cupid set out to obey his mother's injunctions. Finding the maiden asleep in her chamber, he anointed her lips with the bitter water from one of the fountains in Venus's garden, and touched her side with the point of his magic arrow. When she opened her eyes she could not see the god, who had made himself invisible, but he could see her, and the sight of her loveliness so unnerved him that he unwittingly wounded himself with his own arrow. To make as much reparation as possible he emptied his amber jar of sweet water over all her ringlets. But Venus's wishes came near fulfilment. Psyche did not become enamoured of a boor, but of all her admirers none came with offerings of love and marriage. Fearing that the anger of the gods had been incurred by them, her parents consulted the oracle of Apollo, and were told that their daughter should have no mortal lover. Her future husband, a monster irresistible to both gods and men, awaited her at the top of a high mountain. Great was their grief, but Psyche offered willingly to make expiation for having received honors which belonged only to the immortal queen of love and beauty. She was led to the summit of the mountain and left to her fate. Thence came Zephyrus, and carried her gently to a flowery vale in the midst of which stood a magnificent palace. She became its mistress. Invisible hands administered abundantly to all her wants, filled her mouth with nectareous food and wines, and her ears with music. Every night she was visited by him whom the oracle said was to be her husband, but she saw him not. He came only in the darkness of the night, and disappeared before the break of day. She begged for a sight of him whose words of love had aroused a deep passion within her, but he refused. It was Cupid, who wanted to be loved as an equal, not worshipped as a god. "But when Psyche's sisters heard of her great happiness they filled her mind with doubt and misgivings, and persuaded her to disobey her strange visitor's commands. Perhaps he was a hideous monster who would in time devour her. At night, when he was fast asleep, she uncovered her lamp and gazed, not upon a monster, but upon the loveliest of visions. A god lay before her with golden ringlets clustering about his white neck and ruddy cheeks, and snowy wings on his shoulders. She leaned over him for a closer view, and a drop of burning oil fell upon his glistening skin. He awoke, and without a word spread his wings and flew out of the window. With him vanished palace and gardens. Day and night Psyche wandered about seeking her lost love. She found herself in the temple of Ceres, whose pity she awakened, and who told her to surrender herself to Venus and seek to win her forgiveness. Voluntarily she submitted to become the slave of the goddess, who imposed cruel and impossible tasks upon her, but she performed them all, with supernatural aid extended by Cupid. At last the god himself, recovered from his wound, and, unable to endure the separation longer, made supplication to Jupiter, who pleaded the cause of the lovers with Venus, and won her consent to their union. Thereupon he sent Mercury to the maiden with a cup of ambrosia, which, drinking, she became immortal, and was united forever to Cupid."
The poetic substance of the four movements which constitute the work in its exclusively instrumental form may be briefly indicated as follows: I. PSYCHE'S SLEEP "In the dim regions of her dreams, her spirit becomes aware of some perfect bliss, not of this world, which she feels will yet be hers." II. PSYCHE BORNE AWAY BY THE ZEPHYRS There is first a suggestion of the zephyrs; then follows a portion which is said to characterize Psyche herself. A reminiscence of the theme which, in the first movement, served as a love motive, follows; then, again, we hear the Psyche theme. III. THE GARDENS OF CUPID This movement is a love scene, "a depiction of the delights of Psyche in the company of her invisible lover." IV. PSYCHE AND CUPID The final bliss of the lovers is said to be portrayed here. "Love, at first hesitant, grows bold; it has its passionate flights, its returns to calmness, its torrents of passion, then its moments of ecstasy. The themes are so blended or enchained that they are nearly all of like importance, and often one is the conclusion of the other. They are charged with a penetrating solemnity which touches the heart-core." "Eros and Psyche," writes Gustave Derepas in an examination of the work of Franck in its original form, "do not appear as individuals. The orchestra interprets their feelings, and for this reason: the two are in this poem not individuals. Franck, forgetting the legendary personages, looks on them as symbols of the human soul and supreme love. Music, absolute music without words, because its notes do not have a definite meaning, is of all the forms of art the most adequate expression of these immaterial realities. There are no solos in this oratorio. The orchestra has the most important part; it translates the longings, the regrets, the final joy of Psyche.... It is to be easily seen that the whole work is charged with the spirit of Christian mysticism." M. Vincent d'Indy, a distinguished pupil, as well as a profound and discerning appreciator, of CÉsar Franck, has observed that when Franck (always a mystic of mystics) passed to purely profane subjects his angelic imaginings pursued him. "He was fain to put the ancient myth of Eros and Psyche into tones. There are passages of ravishing description in the music in which he fulfilled his purpose. But the capstone of the work, the love duet, as it is called, between Eros and Psyche, has seemed to me always and only an ethereal dialogue between the soul as the mystical author of 'The Imitation of Christ' conceived it and a seraph descended from heaven to instruct it."
"THE DJINNS," SYMPHONIC POEM FOR ORCHESTRA AND PIANO [60] Les Djinns was written in illustration of lines from Victor Hugo's Les Orientales, which, translated into prose, are as follows: "In the plain is born a sound; 'tis the breathing of the night. "The sound draws near. It grows louder! Heavens! It is the galloping of the Djinns. "It is their funeral plaint. Hark to them! Cries of Hell! Voices that howl and weep! "They depart, ... but the air groans again. Then silence. "All passes away, and space swallows up the sound."
The Djinns (or Jinns, from an Arabic word meaning "to be dark" or "to be veiled") were, in Arabian mythology, supernatural beings of prevailingly malevolent character and purpose. They were both male and female, and were regarded as extremely long-lived. Created two thousand years before Adam, of smokeless fire, their homes were in the mountains named Kaff, which were believed to girdle the earth. Yet they haunted all places and all elements—the sea, the land, the air. They could assume any form at will, but were prone to appear to men in whirlwinds, tempests, and dust clouds. In Franck's symphonic poem (in which the piano is employed rather as an orchestral adjunct than as a solo instrument) the music delineates the sudden and terrifying approach through the air of the horde of tempest-driven demons, their horrible lamentations and imprecations, their passing and final disappearance.
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