The Essentials of Jean Philippe Rameau

Jean-Philippe Rameau - his music and his life

By Alan S. Curtis 

---

Jean-Philippe Rameau

See all media

Baptized:

 

September 25, 1683

Died:

 

September 12, 1764 Paris France

Notable Works:

 

“Castor et Pollux” “Hippolyte et Aricie” “Les Indes galantes” “Les Sauvages” “Premier livre de pièces de clavecin” “Pygmalion” “Traité de l’harmonie”

Movement / Style:

 

Baroque music

Subjects Of Study:

 

harmony

See all related content →

Summary

Read a brief summary of this topic

Jean-Philippe Rameau, (baptized September 25, 1683, Dijon, France—died September 12, 1764, Paris), French composer of the late Baroque period, best known today for his harpsichord music, operas, and works in other theatrical genres but in his lifetime also famous as a music theorist.

Rameau’s father, Jean, played the organ for 42 years in various churches in Dijon and hoped one day to see his son on a lawyer’s, rather than an organist’s, bench. These hopes were dashed by the boy’s deplorable performance in school. At the age of 17 he is said to have fallen in love with a young widow who laughed at the errors of grammar and spelling in his letters to her. He tried to refine his language, but, to judge by the prolixity of his later theoretical writings, his efforts resulted in no permanent improvement. At the age of 18, after deciding to pursue a musical career, he traveled to Italy but seems to have gotten no farther than Milan. The following year, he received the first of a series of appointments as organist in various cities of central France: Avignon, Clermont, Dijon, Lyon. There was a brief interlude in the capital, but apparently Paris did not take an immediate fancy to the provincial organist, in spite of his having published there a fine suite of harpsichord pieces in A minor, Premier livre de pièces de clavecin (1706). These works show the beneficial influence of Louis Marchand, a famous organist-harpsichordist of the day whose playing Rameau greatly admired.

ITANNICA QUIZ

Composers & Their Music

Crazy for classical music? Compose yourself and find out how much you know about Handel, Mozart, Dvorák, and more.

Back in Clermont by 1715, Rameau rashly signed a contract to be cathedral organist for 29 years. He then settled down to investigate, in an exhaustive and highly original manner, the foundations of musical harmony. He attacked traditional theory on the ground that “The Ancients,” who to Rameau included such relatively recent writers as the 16th-century Italian Gioseffo Zarlino, “…based the rules of harmony on melody, instead of beginning with harmony, which comes first.” Intuitively basing his studies on the natural overtone series, he arrived at a system of harmony that is the basis of most 20th-century harmony textbooks. Finally published in Paris in 1722, his impressive Traité de l’harmonie (Treatise on Harmony) brought him fame at last and a yearning to return to the capital. 

Authorities in Clermont were loath to let him go, and the story of his release reveals, as do his own writings and other evidence, something of his thorny personality, his persistence, and his single-mindedness. At an evening service he showed his displeasure with the church authorities by pulling out all the most unpleasing stops and by adding the most rending discords so that “connoisseurs confessed only Rameau could play so unpleasingly.” But, after his release from the contract, he played with “so much delicacy, brilliance, force and harmony, that he aroused in the souls of the congregation all the sentiments he wished, thereby sharpening the regret with which all felt the loss they were about to sustain.” 

Get a Britannica Premium subscription and gain access to exclusive content.Subscribe Now

Upon his return to Paris, where he was to remain for the rest of his life, Rameau began a new and active life. A second volume of harpsichord pieces, Pièces de clavecin avec une méthode sur la mécanique des doigts (1724; “Harpsichord Pieces, with a Method for Fingering”), met with considerably more success than the first, and he became a fashionable teacher of the instrument. A commission to write incidental music for the Fair theatres planted the seeds of his development as a dramatic composer, and the display of two Louisiana Indians at one of these theatres in 1725 inspired the composition of one of his best and most celebrated pieces, Les Sauvages, later used in his opéra ballet Les Indes galantes (first performed 1735). The following year, at the age of 42, he married a 19-year-old singer, who was to appear in several of his operas and who was to bear him four children. 

His most influential contact at this time was Le Riche de la Pouplinière, one of the wealthiest men in France and one of the greatest musical patrons of all time. Rameau was put in charge of La Pouplinière’s excellent private orchestra, a post he held for 22 years. He also taught the financier’s brilliant and musical wife. The composer’s family eventually moved into La Pouplinière’s town mansion and spent summers at their château in Passy. This idyllic relationship between patron and composer gradually came to an end after La Pouplinière separated from his wife, and Rameau was replaced by the younger, avant-garde composer Karl Stamitz. Meanwhile, however, admittance to La Pouplinière’s circle had brought Rameau into contact with various literary lights. Abbé Pellegrin, whose biblical opera Jephté had been successfully set to music by Rameau’s rival Michel de Montéclair in 1732, was to become Rameau’s librettist for his first and in many ways finest opera, Hippolyte et Aricie. It was first performed in the spring of 1733, at La Pouplinière’s house, then, in the autumn, at the Opéra, and in 1734 it was performed at court. André Campra, perhaps the most celebrated French composer of the time, remarked to the Prince de Conti: “My Lord, there is enough music in this opera to make ten of them; this man will eclipse us all.” 

To some ears there was, indeed, too much music. Those who had grown up with the operas of Jean-Baptiste Lully were baffled by the complexity of Rameau’s orchestration, the intensity of his accompanied recitatives (speechlike sections), and the rich and often dissonant diversity of his harmonies. Rameau himself, however, professed his admiration for his predecessor in the preface to Les Indes galantes, in which he praised the “beautiful declamation and handsome turns of phrase in the recitative of the great Lully,” and stated that he had sought to imitate it, though not as a “servile copyist.” Indeed, almost everything in Rameau’s operas has, at least technically, a precedent in Lully. Yet the content of his works, the rich dramatic contrasts, the brilliant orchestral sections, and, above all, the permeating sensuous melancholy and languorous pastoral sighings, put him in a different world: in short, the Rococo world of Louis XV. 

Among those at the first performance of Hippolyte was the great Voltaire, who quipped that Rameau “is a man who has the misfortune to know more music than Lully.” But he soon came around to Rameau’s side and wrote for him a fine libretto, Samson, which was banned ostensibly for religious reasons but really because of a cabal against Voltaire; the music was lost. Their later collaboration on two frothy court entertainments is preserved, however: La Princesse de Navarre and Le Temple de la Gloire (both 1745). The former was condensed and revised as Les Fêtes de Ramire (1745) by Jean-Jacques Rousseau.

Rousseau, Jean Le Rond d’Alembert, and other writers associated with Denis Diderot’s Encyclopédie began as ardent Rameau enthusiasts, but, by the mid-1750s, as they warmed more and more to Italian music, they gradually turned against him. Rameau appreciated the new Italian music as much as anyone, but the works he composed in this style, such as the overtures to Les Fêtes de Polymnie (1745) and to his final work, Abaris ou les Boréades (1764), do not bear the mark of individuality. 

 New from Britannica

Dung beetles are the only animals known to navigate using the stars of the Milky Way. They use the stars to roll their dung balls in a straight line at night.

See All Good Facts

The zenith of Rameau’s career may be said to have encompassed the brief span from 1748, when he tossed off the masterpiece Pygmalion in eight days and had six other operas on the boards, through 1754, when he wrote La Naissance d’Osiris (“The Birth of Osiris”) for the birth of the future Louis XVI. Thereafter, his fame diminished, as the prevailing musical style became what is now generally called “Classical.” The public preferred catchy tunes with simple harmonies to Rameau’s profound emotion and rich, late-Baroque harmony.

10 of Claude Debussy’s greatest pieces of music

Debussy’s greatest masterpieces. Picture: Alamy

By Siena Linton, ClassicFM

 

From lazy woodland creatures on a hot summer’s day to the plains of southern Spain, Claude Debussy is the unparalleled master of evocative musical imagery.

Forever entwined in the imaginations of his admirers with lethargic fauns, and idyllic woodlands thick with summer haze, Claude Debussy was classical music’s answer to the impressionist art movement which took Paris by storm in the mid to late 19th century.

As Monet, Cézanne and Renoir were masters of the visual arts, so Debussy was a master at crafting intricate and mesmerising soundscapes, transporting his audiences to dream-like worlds with his musical reveries.

1. Petite Suite (1907)

   Originally written for piano with four hands, Debussy’s Petite Suite was orchestrated by his colleague Henri Büsser in 1907. Made up of four movements, the first evokes a picturesque seaside vista. Titled ‘En bateau’, or ‘Sailing’, it’s easy to imagine boats and dinghies bobbing over gently rocking waves, as a flute melody soars over sighing strings and harp glissandos.

   
   

2. Jeux (1913)

   Debussy’s Jeux is a one-of-a-kind piece of music. Premiered in the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in 1913, just two weeks before Stravinsky’s riot-inducing Rite of Spring, it was described by the composer as a ‘danced poem’. The piece was written at the request of dynamic ballet duo Sergei Diaghilev and legendary choreographer Vaslav Nijinsky, to be performed by Diaghilev’s company, Ballets Russes. It follows a vague storyline of a boy, two girls, and a tennis ball, which goes ultimately unresolved – much like many of Debussy’s harmonies.

   
   

3. Ibéria (1912)

   The second movement of Images pour orchestre, ‘Ibéria’ consists of three movements itself, each depicting images of Spain: its streets and paths, the scents of night, and the ‘morning of a festive day’. It’s an adventurous musical wonderland of jingling percussion, clacking castanets and chiming church bells, evocative of the sunny Iberian peninsula.

4. La fille aux cheveux de lin (1910)

   Debussy wrote two books of solo piano preludes, the first in 1909-1910 and the second in 1912-1913. By far the best known, is La fille aux cheveux de lin, or ‘The Girl with the Flaxen Hair’. With a performance marking meaning ‘very calm and sweetly expressive’, it’s a short and simple work that, over the course of just a few minutes, perfectly depicts the soft innocence that is often associated with golden hair in fine art.

5. Rêverie (1884)

   Debussy’s Rêverie is another one of those beautifully dream-like solo piano pieces that cements its composer as one of the 20th-century greats. With gently oscillating motifs, contrasting rhythms in the left and right hands, and plenty of rubato, the music creates a blissful sense of floating and weightlessness.

   
   

6. Pelléas et Mélisande (1902)

   Although he began to write several, Pelléas et Mélisande is the only opera that Debussy completed. As a young composer Debussy was in awe of Wagner’s operas, traveling to the Bayreuth Festival to see them. And yet, as he told a friend, he had to be careful not to allow the 19th-century opera titan’s works to influence him too much: he had seen fellow French composers attempt to imitate the style, and thought it “dreary”. And so Pelléas et Mélisande is the perfect melting pot of laissez-faire French impressionism and Wagnerian drama.

7. La mer (1905)

   La mer, which translates to ‘The Sea’, was first performed in Paris in late 1905. Inspired by artists’ depictions of the sea rather than the sea itself, one of the criticisms following an icy reception at the premiere was, “I do not hear, I do not see, I do not smell the sea”. Other critics wrote that it did not depict the sea, but rather “some agitated water in a saucer”. Nevertheless, on consecutive performances the piece was much more favourably received, and remains a favourite among the world’s top orchestras to this day.

8. Clair de lune (1905)

   Think of relaxing piano music, and Debussy’s gorgeous ‘Clair de lune’ probably comes to mind. It’s the third, and most famous, movement from Suite bergamasque, which Debussy began writing in 1890 and ultimately finished in 1905. So the story goes, Debussy didn’t originally want these early pieces made public, but eventually accepted a publisher’s offer – and thank goodness he did.

   
   

9. Deux Arabesques (1891)

   Debussy wrote his Deux Arabesques for solo piano while still in his 20s, between 1888 and 1891. Despite the composer’s young age, the whimsical and dream-like character his music would come to be known and loved for can already be heard, carving the way for French Impressionism in music.

10. Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune (1894)

    Beginning with one of the most iconic orchestral flute solos ever written, Debussy wrote Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune (‘Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun’) in 1894. His inspiration was a poem by Stéphane Mallarmé, in which a faun awakes from his afternoon slumber and recounts a series of rendezvous with forest nymphs. Debussy’s meandering score and rich orchestration captivates his audience and brings them to the heart of the forest on a balmy summer’s day, to hear the tales of the faun’s afternoon amidst the heady pinewood scents, floating through the breeze.

    
    

Rimsky-Korsakov’s estate devastated by fire, destroying over 1,000 valuable artefacts

Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov’s estate was engulfed in flames over the weekend. Picture: Governor of the Pskov region Mikhail Vedernikov

By Sophia Alexandra Hall, ClassicFM

@sophiassocials

 

Said to have been caused by careless builders, a fire at Rimsky-Korsakov’s estate has done untold damage, destroying thousands of artefacts belonging to the 19th-century Russian composer.

This weekend, a fire broke out in the estate and memorial museum of 19th-century composer, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov.

Over half of the exhibits have been destroyed in the blaze, which has devastated more than 1,000 artefacts.

Born in the town of Tikhvin, 200km east of St Petersburg, Rimsky-Korsakov was a prolific composer, scoring a considerable body of nationalistic music including orchestral, choral, and operatic works.

He is particularly notable for being one of ‘The Five’, a collection of five Russian composers including Modest Mussorgsky, and Alexander Borodin, who led the way in creating a distinct national style of classical music.

Rimsky-Korsakov died in 1908 in the now fire-damaged estate, which he had purchased as a home for his children. The estate is in the west Russian village of Lyubensk, in the Plyussky District of Pskov Oblast. Reports of the fire originally emerged from the governor of the district, Mikhail Vedernikov who posted a photo of the fire on his Telegram [social media] account, saying the damage was “significant”.

Read more: Tchaikovsky’s house destroyed by Russian army in north-east Ukraine

The fire is said to have been started due to “the negligence of builders” who were repairing the roof of the museum using a ‘hot work’ technique – construction that uses open flames. Starting on the roof, the fire spread “very quickly” throughout the building according to Vedernikov, engulfing the estate before firefighters were able to arrive. No one was injured in the blaze.

The Pskov regional Investigative Committee – of the Russian Investigative Committee – is reportedly investigating the instigating factors of the fire, and interviewing eyewitnesses in order to establish the full story.

According to the local press office, firefighters were able to save half of the museum’s exhibits, but thousands of artefacts were destroyed. Of the valuables saved, emergency workers were able to retrieve a real silver trophy and a real gold pen, as well as furniture, books, magazines and shelves.

Vedernikov wrote on Telegram that, “[the museum] is an object of cultural heritage and federal significance”, and the governor seems committed to ensuring the preservation of the remaining exhibits.

“Together with our colleagues from the Government,” the official writes, “we will do our best to restore the estate.”

The Sound of Summer Rain in Classical Music Vivaldi, Rameau, Beethoven, Grofé and Whitacre

by Maureen Buja, Interlude  

 

Channeling the sound and fury of nature through an orchestra gives everyone, from the composer to the conductor to the orchestra (primarily the string section) a thorough workout.

Antonio Vivaldi: The Four Seasons – Violin Concerto in G Minor, Op. 8 (Summer)

© unripecontent.com

One of the most familiar of storms is in the third movement of Vivaldi’s Summer concerto from the Four Seasons (1720).

The sonnet that goes with the concertos sets this up at the end of the first verse: ‘Soft breezes stir the air, but threatening | the North Wind sweeps them suddenly aside. |The shepherd trembles, | fearing violent storms and his fate’. And then, in the 3rd verse: ‘The Heavens thunder and roar and with hail | Cut the head off the wheat and damages the grain’. And starting with rain in the violins, the heavens open.

Jean-Philippe Rameau: Platée – Act I Scene 6 – Orage

Jean-Paul Fouchécourt as Platée, 2000 (City Opera)

In Rameau’s 1745 opera Platée, two storms set the beginning and end of Act I. In an attempt to cure Jupiter’s wife of her jealousy, Mercury comes and tells the king of Greece that the opening storm has been caused by Juno’s jealousy. The King proposes a false love affair between Jupiter and Platée, a marsh nymph of outstanding ugliness.

Every time Juno is angered, another storm breaks out and the one at the end of Act I is a magnificent work of lightning flashes and drowning rain.

Rameau wrote the work for the wedding celebrations of Louis, Dauphin of France, son of King Louis XV of France, to the Infanta Maria Theresa of Spain. Despite having an opera based on marital infidelity and deceiving one’s spouse, the opera was popular and resulted in Rameau’s appointment shortly after the celebration to the position of Composer of the King’s Chamber Music.

Ludwig van Beethoven: Symphony No. 6 in F Major, “Pastoral” – IV. Thunderstorm: Allegro

© behance.net

For his fourth movement Thunderstorm in his Pastoral Symphony, Beethoven used an orchestra that could do thunder (cellos and double basses), rain (violins), more thunder (timpani), lightning strikes (piccolo), and all of the other accompanying sounds and actions of a really good storm. At the end, the storm passes, with occasional grumbles of thunder in the distance.

Ferde Grofé: Grand Canyon Suite – V. Cloudburst

Ferde Grofé’s 1931 work The Grand Canyon Suite, gives us the sound and fury of a storm in the American West. The previous movement was Sunset and so this movements continues the stillness until suddenly, there are flashes of lightning, down bursts of rain in the piano, thunder in the timpani, and suddenly, we’re in the middle of a full-blown storm. But, as the title says, it’s a cloudburst so just a quick 3-minute flash storm, and then the sunset returns, fighting its way through the clouds.

Eric Whitacre: Cloudburst

Although we’ve seen how orchestras create rainstorms, one of the most innovative of modern composers, Eric Whitacre, has given us a magnificent choral storm in his 1991 work Cloudburst. The song text by Octavio Paz is El cántaro roto (The Broken Water-Jar) and is a reflection on water and no water, dust and the burnt earth, until the rain awakens. The chorus is augmented by two thunder sheets and a bass drum, but it is the chorus itself, through finger snaps and hand claps, that brings the storm to us and then it recedes.

Cloudbursts, slashing rain, echoing thunder, and bright flashes are these rainstorms. Use it to cool off from the summer heat, or to water the thirsty plants. It can be a welcome relief or an overwhelming flood, but no matter where it comes, it’s necessary to all life.

Weird and Wonderful: Discovering Classical Music with a Difference

by Maureen Buja, Interlude

Sometimes composer break out of their box – make a new sound – make you hear music a new way – and sometimes it’s the performers who help as well. Take a listen to these performances and these interesting works from a variety of composers from the Renaissance period to today.

We’re so used to hearing BIG Beethoven. Large chords, rhythms that never seem to end, dramatic statements. But what happens if you change the means of performance? Is this the way you imagined the Moonlight Sonata? 

© Wikipedia

Luciano Berio was commissioned by the New York Philharmonic for a work for its 125th anniversary, for its 1968-69 season. He gave them Sinfonia, for orchestra and 8 amplified voices, to create not a history of music, but a distorted history of culture. The third movement is a mélange of musical quotation and text quotations. The movement starts with extensive quotations from Mahler’s Symphony No. 2, a composer championed by Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. The orchestra also plays ‘snatches of Claude Debussy’s La mer, Maurice Ravel’s La valse, Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, as well as quotations from Arnold Schoenberg, Anton Webern, Johannes Brahms, Henri Pousseur, Paul Hindemith, and many others (including Berio himself)…’.The voices recite texts by Samuel Beckett, James Joyce, stage directions, with the original word sometimes changed or juxtaposed with other texts. 

We all know the third movement of Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 2. It’s the somber Marche funebre. A funeral march at a Lento speed. What may not be so familiar is the next movement. The speed is Presto, the touch is legato, the dynamics muted, and the notes unceasing until the final note, which strikes, as a writer said, as a ‘blow from the executioner’s axe’. 

One work that on first hearing you’d have a hard time to even place it with the correct composer, let alone get the date of composition correct, is Maurice Ravel’s 1918 work for piano, Frontispice (Frontispiece). It’s for 2 pianos, but 2 pianos and 5 hands. The two pianos are in different meters: piano 1 starting in 15/8 and Piano 2 enters one measure later in 5/4. The pianos provide overlapping melodic lines that are completely independent. The piece was written as a prelude to a reading of Ricciotto Canudo’s poem S.P. 503 Le poème de Vardar, where the author reflects on his war experiences. 

We know Liszt: bravura piano music, melodically driven, constantly innovating, and then when we look at his Bagatelle sans tonalite, S. 216a (earlier titles included Bluette fantasque and Mephisto Walzer Nr. 4 (ohne Tonart), we have a work of ambiguous harmony. There are echoes of the earlier Mephisto Waltzes, but this seems to remain outside – almost a commentary on his own work.

Can you guess what unusual sound generator is used at the beginning of Arvo Pärt’s Symphony No. 2? 

Yes, those were rubber ducks, and later, there’s crackling cellophane paper. Written in 1966, this work was part of Pärt’s early serialist style.

George Crumb: Vox Balaenae score © FANDOM Music Community

American composer George Crumb was inspired by one of the largest animals on Earth for this work from 1971. Vox Balaenae (Voice of the Whale) requires the players to be anonymized by wearing black half-masks through their performance. Written for amplified flute, cello, and piano, the work requires that the flautist both plays and sings at the same time, and the cellist uses glissandos in an ultra-high register to imitate the cries of seagulls. 

Dowland’s lute music set the style for the English court – melancholic but always melodic. We somehow always imagine these as somewhat dry pieces, performed by a lutenist to himself as his best audience. However, in one work, he guaranteed that the performer would be able to get as close as possible to his audience. His work, My Lord Chamberlain, His Galliard, was published in his First Book of Songs in 1597. This work is written for 1 lute, but two performers (or in piano-speak: 1 lute, 4 hands.

Conlon Nancarrow: Player Piano © Whitney Museum of American Art

What happens when you have a vision for the music you want to play but it’s literally impossible for a single person with two hands and 10 fingers to play? For American composer Conlon Nancarrow, he transferred his music from a regular piano to a player piano. Mixed time signatures? No problem. Notes that are impossibly fast? No problem. More than 10 keys being played at once? No problem.

The composer and humourist Peter Schickele, in his manifestation as P.D.Q. Bach (the oddest of J.S. Bach’s 20-odd children), gave us a work that is almost too familiar to talk about, but in presenting it with the vapid commentary of a baseball game, gave us a different way to hear Beethoven. It’s a legitimate analysis, with all the familiar sports metaphors, but with a commentary that doesn’t miss a note.

 Music – we have lots of way of appreciating it – sometimes seriously, sometimes with humour – but always with an understanding that there’s lots of it out there to discover!