Liederen van Gustave Huberti

Ondertussen studeerde Gustave Huberti aan het Conservatoire Royal de Bruxelles op zijn zestiende af met een eerste prijs compositie bij directeur François-Joseph Fétis (1784-1871). In 1865 won hij de Prix de Rome, waardoor hij drie jaar in Duitsland kon verder studeren. Gedreven door zijn enthousiasme voor de liedkunst van Robert Schumann schreef Huberti in de jaren 1867-1868 een twintigtal liederen op Duitse verzen van Gottfried August Bürger, Emanuel Geibel, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Heinrich Heine, August Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben en Ludwig Uhland. Zo schreef hij in München in september 1868 op enkele dagen tijd minstens zeven van een reeks van acht Wanderlieder op gedichten van Uhland. Huberti droeg deze cyclus op aan zijn vriend, de bas-bariton Emiel Blauwaert (1845-1891).

Na zijn verblijf in Duitsland trok Huberti met zijn stipendium van de Prix de Rome nog een jaar naar Italië waar hij werkte aan zijn rapport Aperçu sur l’histoire de la musique religieuse des Italiens et des Néerlandais (1873).

Bij zijn terugkeer in België kwam hij in contact met de dichter Emanuel Hiel (1834-1899) en via hem met componist Peter Benoit (1834-1901). Huberti werd een overtuigd aanhanger van Benoits Vlaamse muzieknationalistische opvattingen, en ook hij componeerde vanaf dan op Nederlandse teksten, onder meer van Hiel. Nadat hij drie jaar directeur was van de Académie de Musique van Mons (1874-1877), werd Huberti muziekinspecteur bij de Antwerpse stadsscholen. In die periode schreef hij vooral composities voor kinderen. In 1893 werd hij directeur van de École de Musique van Sint-Joost-ten-Node.

Als vurig Wagneriaan bezocht Huberti in 1889 de Bayreuther Festspiele, waar hij in Villa Wahnfried Emiel Blauwaert aan de piano begeleidde in fragmenten uit het oratorium De Oorlog van Peter Benoit en in enkele van zijn eigen liederen. Huberti onderhield ook contacten met componisten van het ‘Machtige hoopje’. Toen Aleksandr Borodin tijdens de Wereldtentoonstelling van 1885 naar Antwerpen kwam, dirigeerde Huberti diens tweede symfonie.

Tot Huberti’s belangrijke werken behoren, naast zijn liederen, het symfonisch gedicht Hymne à la science, Triomffeest voor orgel en orkest, een pianoconcerto, het melodrama Christine (Leconte de Lisle) en de onder invloed van Hector Berlioz geschreven Symphonie funèbre.

Huberti was kieskeurig in de selectie van de gedichten die hij op muziek zette. Dat geldt niet alleen voor de Duitse Lieder; ook voor zijn Franse mélodies greep hij naar verzen van bekende negentiende-eeuwse dichters zoals Victor Hugo, Théophile Gautier, Sully Prudhomme, Alfred de Musset, Jean Richepin en Armand Silvestre.

Het onuitgegeven lied Pâle étoile du Soir (1866) behoort tot zijn vroegste composities en werd getoonzet op een gedicht van zijn toen favoriete dichter de Musset. Bij een aantal mélodies uit zijn laatste periode, zoals Lied (Gautier), Mal ensevelie (Prudhomme), Le monde est méchant (Gautier), en het sarcastische La pêche à la ligne (Richepin) (1905, opgedragen aan Eugène Ysaÿe) zijn de muzikale factuur en het harmonisch klankbeeld heel wat progressiever. Deze avant-gardistische tendens is heel uitgesproken in twee orkestliederen op gedichten van Richepin: Brume de midi en de dramatische scène A la dérive. Enkele melodieën op verzen van 15de en 16de eeuwse Franse dichters dateren uit een vroege periode (1867-1868) en zijn op een eenvoudiger manier getoonzet.

Jozef De Beenhouwer

Gustave Huberti
1843-1910

Lieder et melodies.
Liesbeth Devos (soprano), Werner Van Mechelen (baryton), Jozef De Beenhouwer (piano).

Antarctica. 2022. TT: 1 h 20’.

Technique: 4/5

Vien que Wallon, Gustave Huberti prit fait et cause pour le nationalisme musical flamand prôné par son aîné Peter Benoit. Après un séjour en Allemagne, ce fervent wagnérien assuma l’influence du romantisme germanique. On ne s’étonnera donc pas que ses lieder et mélodies rappellent Mendelssohn, pour leur séduction, et parfois même Schumann. Sur les vingt-sept ici retenus, douze sont en allemand (Wanderlieder de Uhland, vers de Goeteh, Heine et Fallersleben), trois en flamand (dont un poème de Hiel), et tous les autres en français.

Car Huberti semble avoir éprouvé une profonde inclination pour la littérature française ancienne (Charles d’Orléans, Ronsard, du Bellay, Desportes), romantique (Musset, Hugo, Gautier) et au-delà (Richepin et Silvestre, cher à Fauré). Il y évite la grandiloquence comme l’excès de sophistication.

Les deux tiers du programme reviennent à Werner Van Mechelen, baryton-basse qui sait alléger une voix plutôt dramatique (il fu Alberich à Bayreuth) et conférer à chaque pièce sa couleur propre, sans pourtant donner l’impression de faire un sort à chaque mot. Ses prestations alternent avec celles de Liesbeth De Vos, soprano frais et charmant, aux moirures variées selon les registres. Et si les parties de piano sont généralement assez conventionnelles, Jozef De Beenhouwer leur insuffle de la vie et déroule sous ses partenaires un tapis harmonique très sûr.

Jacques Bonnaure.

Bron : Diapason, nr. 746, été 2025, p. 80

_______________________________________________________

De Engelse criticus Colin Clarke is lovend over onze Huberti-cd: ‘This is a superb disc that opens a window onto a repertoire ripe for rediscovery; elite recording and top-notch performances seal the deal.’

Hier kan u de volledige recensie lezen:

Composer Gustave Huberti (1853–1910) was born in Brussels; his father was a gifted violinist, singer, and painter. Gustave studied at the Brussels Conservatoire under the famous theorist François-Joseph Fétis (1784–1871); he won the Prix de Rome, which enabled him to travel to Germany, which fostered in turn his enthusiasm for Robert Schumann. Later, he lived in Italy for a year as part of his prize. Back in Belgium, he encountered poet Emanul Hiel and, via composer Peter Benoit, embraced Flemish Nationalism. Huberti was also a Wagner enthusiast (he attended Bayreuth in 1889).

Connoisseurs of the vocal arts may be familiar with a 1912 Pathé recording of what is given here as Huberti’s second Mailied (there are two on this disc, both Goethe settings: this is “Wie herrlich leuchtet Mir die Natur”). That 1912 recording is by Jos Orelio (1854–1926), dating just wo years after the composer’s death. While one accepted that Orelio’s voice was not in finest fettle at that time (he also recorded for Zonophone, Odeon, Anker, and Favorite), it gives a window into Duch performance practice at the time: the performance actually has great spirit (Orelio was a respected singer, especially known for his Sachs Meistersinger). Moving to our time and this very disc, Werner Van Mechelen and Jozef De Beehouwer are tremendous in capturing the Spring aspect of the song; the piano is very present, and excitingly so. Van Mechelen’s diction is superb; every word counts.

The other possible point of entry is via a recording that actually shares the same pianist: for his other recording of the cycle Wanderlieder, De Beenhouwer is joined by Robert Holl, on a disc entitled The Core of All Things. That disc was reviewed by Raymond Beegle in Fanfare 40:1, who identified Holl as, like Orelio, “at the twilight of his career.” He also noted a simplicity of expression in these songs and those of Huberti’s discmates, Edgar Tine, Peter Benoit, Arthur Verhoeven, and Arthur Meulemans. At least seven of the eight songs of Wanderlieder were written in Munich in September 1868; they set texts by Ludwig Uhland (1737–1862). Van Mechelen’s voice is dark and full. Perhaps not Hans Hotter dark, but certainly shaded in that direction, and again that diction allows him to tell a comprehensible story: the cry of “Keine Frucht, keine Frucht für mich” (No fruit, no fruit for me) is clearly from the heart. The harmonic vocabulary is identifiably late Romantic. When it comes to Holl’s version, it is true that higher up in the range one can hear definite strain (and some air around the note); but in a sense that only heightens the pain of our world-weary wanderer. The second song, “Scheiden und Meiden” (Parting and Separation), the influence of Wagner is detectable in a progression that owe much to Tristan, and particularly in the inter-stanza piano transition and postlude, while Robert Schumann seems to lurk behind some of the melodic shapes. I suspect the “at least seven of the eight songs” above might be the reason Van Mechelen includes that song, while Holl omits it. The third (shared by both but now Holl’s second song) is “In der Ferne” (or “Far away,” to use the present booklet’s translation). This is a fascinating song, piano and voice taking turns initially before joining at “Wie Vöglein hör ’ich so gerne” (I enjoy listening to the birds so much). Arguably, the fragility of Holl’s voice suits his reading of “In der Ferne.”

The “Morgelied” (Morning Song) is not quite what it claims: the protagonist sings of the time immediately pre-dawn. Birds have not yet started singing; there is stillness, reflected in the piano’s mesmeric repetitions. This is a truly beautiful Lied; and when the text refers to those sleeping birds, we do hear decidedly avian activity in the piano—a pre-echo, perhaps, of their rising. Holl is faster in his reading, and yet paradoxically it sounds just a touch more labored, more world-weary.

There is a hint of Schubert’s Erlkönig to “Nachtreise” (Journey at night), both in the momentum and in some of the phase endings. The true triumph here is Beenhouwer’s clarity in the piano’s lower register, truly a lesson for aspiring pianists. Holl’s version is a touch quicker, but his diction is more clouded (“Kosen” flirts with “Koshen,” for example).

From a “Nachtreise” to a “Winterreise,” perhaps the logical move. Both piano and voice seem Atlas-like in carrying the World on their shoulders in the latter song; particularly interesting is the piano “interrupt” at the end of the first stanza, giving the two musicians equal voice. I do wonder if Van Mechelen’s “ch” sound is not more Dutch than German, though.

The song “Einkehr” (translated as “Stopping at an Inn”) is rather more Romantic (as opposed to late Romantic) than the rest; it flows easily, and holds a spellbinding piano postlude, perfectly delivered by Beenhouwer. There is no doubting of the two versions who gets over the finish line in first place for the final song, “Heinkehr”: Holl is earthbound, and over-careful, Van Mechelen positively ecstatic.

We discussed the second Mailied above; the first, “Zwischen Weizen und Korn” (Between Wheat and Corn), is sung by soprano Liesbeth Devos. There is a real sense of controlled naïveté to Huberti’s setting, leading to a sense of ecstasy in “Grünt und blüht schön der Mai” (May is blooming green and fair); a terrific song, and Devos’s purity of sound is ideal. From May to the cradle: Wiegenlied (Cradle Song), with its gently rocking piano, and from Goethe to the rather grandly named poet August Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben. Devos spins the line well. Although we have discussed the second Mailied already, it is worth noting that in context of the recital, it feels like a draught of fresh spring water.

And so from Goethe to Heine, that other most beloved of song poets (a revelatory recital/dramatic performance in Dresden recently by Benjamin Appl and James Baillieu reminded me of the Heine story, and of Heine’s magic). This song, O schwöre nicht (O kiss me only, do not swear) is positively breathless; perhaps it could be touch more so in this performance, to contrast with the broadening of gesture toward the end of the stanza. The song Serenade reveals a poet mentioned above in Huberti’s biographical background, but previously unknown to me thus far: Emanuel Hiel (1834–99). Perhaps unsurprisingly: the poem is in Dutch, and the song is sung as such. The poem takes the sensuality of night as an invitation to the protagonist’s lover. The piano’s repeating gesture becomes ever more strident (brilliantly tracked by Beenhouwer) before a truly dolce final stanza. Hiel it is again who provides the text for the more harmonically adventurous song, O kom, meijn liefste (O come, my love). The music becomes ever more ardent before returning to the harmonic field of the opening. The final in this group of three songs in Dutch is En weder was het de oude droom (And again it was the old dream), a song of longing for a departed beloved, absolutely magical as a song and as a performance: the high-lying piano chords of the final stanza make for a remarkable effect.

After Dutch, we have French, which takes up the balance of the disc. Le Renouveau (The Return of Spring; text by Charles, Duc d’Orléans) appears and, as if in resonance with the geographical shift, the music becomes more fragrant, and Liesbeth Devos returns for a song of delightful imagery (Charles lived 1394–1465). The more active Un Vanneur de blés au vent (From a winnower of wheat to the winds) finds some beautiful voice-leading in the piano part from Beenhouwer against Devos’s fresh melody. The text is similarly early, if not quite so far back: Joachim du Bellay (1522–60). We move toward the relatively modern 17th century with a text by Philippe Despores next (1546–1606), a song of betrayed love. A sonnet from the 1578 Sonnets pour Hélène by the perhaps better-known Philippe de Ronsard (1524–85) follows, a dream of legato from Van Mechelen, the close absolutely charming.

The song Pâle étoile du soir (Pale star of evening; text Alfred du Musset) could almost be by Berlioz, and could certainly be orchestrated in that composer’s fashion. It sounds a bit like a lost member of Nuits d’été; it certainly opens out harmonically in a way that would not embarrass Berlioz. Devos is radiant here, and Beenhouwer finds a brilliance of piano tone to match. Absolutely beautiful, especially the deep resonance of the piano toward the close.

Two songs on texts by the great Victor Hugo are next: first, Hier au soir (Yesterday evening), Mechelen in liquid baritone form against a perfectly calibrated piano, and the simply named Chanson, Devos posing the questions of the text against fascinating harmonic progressions in the piano. She shines in the bath of beauty that is Le Retour: the poet here is Armand Silvestre (1837–1901). Her voice almost flies at “Je t’aimais and je t’ai pedu!” (I loved you and I lost you).

Strange, perhaps, to have a song called Lied in the “French Quarter” of the recital; but the words are by Théophile Gautier, who tracks the “colors” of the Earth though the seasons, and rather beautifully, too. The piano’s cascading arpeggios make maximal effect here; we find ourselves in the lavender-scented fields of Provence.

The world is evil, or so they say. Certainly, so says Gautier in Le Monde est méchant (The world is cruel), ardently sung by Van Mechelen; interestingly, although the text is in French, Huberti uses both French and Germanic modes of expression and harmonies, a fascinating mix in one of the more extended songs of the disc. Some of the sounds are more hard-hitting than anything else on the disc; and while shorter, Mal ensevelie (Badly buried) carries no less impact. Here, the text, by Sully Prudhomme (1839–1907), tells of a parting in death, “badly buried” because “they did not close your eyes.” Finally, launched by high curlicues on piano, we have the

soprano La Pêche à la ligne (interestingly, the title of this is the only one not translated in the booklet, but it means, literally, the fish on the line, or more compactly, “fishing”). It is the perfect close, leaving everyone with a smile (a perfect descending scale on the piano topped by a single super-high note is the actual gesture).

This is a superb disc that opens a window onto a repertoire ripe for rediscovery; elite recording and top-notch performances seal the deal.

HUBERTI Wanderlieder.2 Mailied (Zwischen Weizen und Korn).1 Wiegenlied, op. 33.1 Mailied (Wie herrlich leuchtet mir die Natur).2 O schwöre nicht.2 Serenade.2 O kom, mijn liefste.2 En weder was het de oude droom.2 Le Renouveau.1 Un Vanneur de blés au vent.1 Rosette.2 Sonnet.2 Pâle étoile du soir.1 Hier au soir.2 Chanson.1 Le Retour.1 Lied, op. 71.1 Le Monde est méchant, op. 70.2 Mal ensevelie, op. 73.2 La Pêche à la ligne1 • 1Liesbeth Devos (sop); 2Werner Van Mechelen (bar); Jozef De Beenhouwer (pn) • ANTARCTICA 070 (79:52 Text and Translation)

(Colin Clarke in Fanfare Magazine 49:2, Nov/Dec 2025)