Reproduction of a photograph from life by Raschkow, Jr.—Breslau.
]
The preparations for the opera had made great progress, and everybody
expected, at any moment, the composer’s return. Not only did he refrain
from reappearing in Paris to assist at the last rehearsals and to give
his final hints to the singers and the orchestra, but he did not even
write to anyone. Nobody knew where he had concealed himself. This
extraordinary and unheard-of act of a composer, who goes abroad to amuse
himself by chasing butterflies or collecting plants, while at home the
theatrical managers are making preparations for the first performance of
a work of such importance as a grand five-act opera, excited all Paris.
It even disturbed the Government, which caused inquiry to be made for
the musician by its diplomatic agents throughout the world. The search
was a vain one. It was generally thought that Saint-Saëns had died in
some part of Ceylon, where certain French travellers believed they had
seen him as he was making his way to Japan. The first performance of
“Ascanio” was given at a moment when it was in doubt whether Saint-Saëns
was dead or alive. Happily, he was still of this world and in very good
health; but careless of his glory, was basking in the sunshine of the
Canary Islands, busily engaged in finishing a volume of verse which
appeared in Paris last year; for Saint-Saëns is a poet as well as a
musician. It was a relief to the public when an announcement was at last
made by Louis Gallet, the composer’s fellow-worker and friend, that the
fugitive, at the very moment when “Ascanio” was under active rehearsal
at the Opéra, was peacefully and contentedly breathing the warm and
balmy air of Palma. As soon as the newspapers betrayed his sojourn in
this verdant and flowery retreat, the authorities of the city and the
principal inhabitants proposed to confer honors upon the master. But the
composer had not gone all the way to Teneriffe for this purpose, and
thanking the authorities for the homage they wished to pay him,
immediately disappeared again!
Saint-Saëns is a husband and a father, but his married life has
unfortunately not been a very happy one. His two children both died at
an early age. One of them fell from the balcony of his father’s house,
and was killed, while the other suddenly died a short time afterward.
Thus it sometimes happens that a man may have, like Saint-Saëns,
everything that goes to make up the sum of human happiness—talent,
success, honor and fortune,—and yet yearn in vain for that complete
felicity which is denied him. Concealed like the statue of Isis, whose
veil no mortal has ever been permitted to draw aside, is the condition
of unalloyed happiness on this earthly sphere. We know that it exists;
we seek it; ofttimes we think it within our grasp, and yet it eludes us!
We cannot more fitly terminate this sketch of the great personality of
Saint-Saëns than by adding that he is one of the most masterly readers
of piano and organ music who has ever lived, and an improviser of the
first rank.
As a child pianist and composer, Camille Saint-Saëns was what is called
an infant prodigy. The child has come to man’s estate and is, at the
present moment, one of the most learned and able artists in every branch
of his art, that can be found in the ranks of modern musicians. Since
the death of Beethoven, Schumann and Mendelssohn, he wields in Europe
the sceptre of symphony; he is renowned as a composer for the church and
the theatre, and as an organist; and the mastery he has shown in the
concerto, the oratorio and chamber music, of which he has produced a
large number of works, is of world-wide fame.
Of his purely instrumental music we may mention, in chronological order:
“Tarentelle,” for flute and clarinet with orchestra; “Orient et
Occident,” a military march; Ballade for piano, organ and violin;
Introduction and Rondo Capricioso, for violin and piano; “Le Rouet
d’Omphale,” a symphonic poem; Concerto for violoncello in A minor;
Sonato for piano and violoncello; Heroic March for full orchestra;
Ballade for horn or violoncello and piano, in F; Ballade for flute or
violin and piano; Lullaby for piano and violin, in B flat; “Phaéton,” a
symphonic poem; “Danse Macabre,” for Orchestra, arranged for piano, for
one or two performers, and for one or two pianos; also for piano duet,
with violin or violoncello; for military band, etc; Quartet for piano,
violin, alto and violoncello; Allegro appassionata, for violoncello and
piano; Ballade for violin and piano, in C; Suite for orchestra; prelude,
saraband, gavotte, ballade and finale; “La Jeunesse d’Hercule,”
symphonic poem; Ballade for violoncello and piano in D; Concerto for
violin in C major; “Suite Algérienne,” for orchestra; Concerto for
violin, in B minor; Concert piece for violin and piano; “Une Nuit à
Lisbonne,” barcarolle for orchestra; “La Jota Aragonaise,” for
orchestra; Septet for trumpet, two violins, alto, violoncello,
contra-bass and piano; Hymn to Victor Hugo, for orchestra; Sonata for
piano and violin in D minor; “Wedding-Cake,” Caprice Valse for piano and
stringed instruments; Caprice on Danish and Russian airs, for flute,
oboe, clarinet and piano; “Havanaise” for violin and piano; “La Fiancée
du Timbalier,” for orchestra; etc., etc.
[Illustration:
Fac-simile autograph musical manuscript contributed by the composer
for use in this work
]
We bear in mind several scores by Saint-Saëns which do not appear in the
general catalogue of his works. First of all, there is a very fine
composition for a military band, which the illustrious musician was good
enough to write at my request, in 1868, for the celebration of Hoche’s
centenary at Versailles. A short time ago I asked Saint-Saëns why he had
not published this beautiful work, written as a tribute to the memory of
the great French general, and which is so full of stirring patriotic
sentiment. The composer replied that he did not know what had become of
this music since the day on which it was solemnly performed before the
statue of Hoche at Versailles. The full score and the orchestral parts
have remained undiscovered up to the present time. I may also mention,
as among the compositions of Saint-Saëns, which are not included in the
catalogue of his works, an extremely original, bright and thoroughly
artistic work written for several instruments and called “Le Carnaval
des Animaux.” Only one of the animals in this merry Carnival has been
honored by publication, viz.: “The Swan,” whose song is interpreted in
this zoölogical symphony by the violoncello.
The works by Saint-Saëns for piano solo, duet, and for two pianos are
very numerous. All of them are vigorously characteristic of the decided
and learned style of the master, and are also marked by a certain
individuality peculiar to this famous pianist-composer.
It is well known that the composer is one of the most renowned organists
in Europe. As might be expected, he has written specially for this
instrument, which, figuratively speaking, is the embodiment of all other
instruments. We will only mention the Rhapsodies on the Breton
canticles; also the “Bénédiction Nuptiale” and “Elévation et Communion,”
which are noble works for the King of Instruments.
Saint-Saëns succeeded Lefébvre Wely as organist at the Madeleine. Among
his church compositions he has composed a Grand Mass for four voices,
soli and orchestra; “Tantum Ergo,” a Chorus; a “Christmas Oratorio” for
chorus, soli and orchestra; Psalm XVIII.—“Cœli enarrant” for soli,
chorus and orchestra; “Le Déluge,” biblical poem for soli, chorus and
orchestra; and a Requiem which, with the oratorio “Le Déluge,” we
include among his best works. There is also a collection of twenty
separate motets for the Holy Communion, motets to the Virgin, and other
miscellaneous motets.
We may further mention among the characteristic compositions which are
not in the religious or the dramatic style:—Scene from Corneille’s “Les
Horaces,” for soprano, baritone and orchestra; six Persian melodies,
vocal and instrumental (piano); “Les Soldats de Gédéon,” double chorus
without accompaniment; “Chanson du Grand-papa,” chorus for female
voices; “Chanson d’un Ancêtre,” chorus for male voices with baritone
solo; “La Lyre et la Harpe,” soli, chorus and orchestra; two choruses
with piano accompaniment: “Calme des Nuits” and “Les Fleurs et les
Arbres”; two choruses for male voices without accompaniment: “Les Marins
de Kermor” and “Les Titans”; “Les Guerriers,” chorus for male voices;
several other choruses, besides some fifty duets and melodies with piano
accompaniment. We abridge the list in order to mention the composer’s
dramatic works: “Le Timbre d’Argent”; “La Princesse Jaune,” comic opera
in one act; “Proserpine,” lyric drama in four acts; “Etienne Marcel,”
opera in four acts; “Samson et Dalila,” biblical opera in three acts;
“Henry VIII.,” opera in four acts; and lastly, “Ascanio,” opera in five
acts.
It has been said with truth that Saint-Saëns is of all composers the one
who differs most from himself, in his dramatic works. We mean by this
that he has emancipated himself from the hard and fast lines of any
particular school; that he has no system and is guided wholly by his own
inspiration, tempered and strengthened by great musical learning. He
could, if he so desired, write according to the theories or in the
manner of this or of that composer, but he prefers to write as his
genius follows its own individual vein, agreeing, no doubt, with his
famous colleague and friend, Charles Gounod, that if there are many
systems of composition, there are, after all, only two kinds of music:
that which is good and that which is bad. His admiration for all the
great masters is profound, but he strives to imitate none, this has
caused certain critics to subject him to the reproach of eclecticism. He
has expressed himself on this point with frank sincerity (for
Saint-Saëns is a man as well as a musician) in a highly interesting
volume entitled “Harmonie et Mélodie.” After declaring that he had never
belonged to any religion in music, he adds: “I claim to preserve my
liberty, to like what pleases me and to reject the rest; to believe good
that which is good, discordant that which is discordant, absurd that
which is absurd. This is precisely what the more ardent disciples of
Wagner refuse to concede. They grasp you by the throat, and insist that
you must admire everything Wagnerian, no heed what it may be. With them
there is something beyond love of art: the spirit of sectarianism. I am
afraid of sectarians, and so keep myself prudently aloof from them.”
It was of these Wagnerian critics, who carry their love for the composer
of “music-dramas” to the point of fanatic intolerance, even of ferocity,
that Saint-Saëns was thinking when he wrote these lines, as well as
others that we shall quote presently; and these same critics accused our
composer of the crime of refusing to enlist under the banner of the
master of Bayreuth. They sought to crush Saint-Saëns in their criticisms
of his last great opera, “Ascanio,” by saying, not only had he here
perpetrated the heresy of adhering to that form of opera that prevailed
before Wagner propounded his theories of the “lyric drama,” but that he
had also forgotten himself so far as to write airs in the Italian style!
These amiable censors showed themselves more royalist than the king
himself, for as a matter of fact Wagner by no means despised Italian
airs; on the contrary, he liked them very much if we may believe what he
has said. The following words of the composer of “Lohengrin” are worth
remembering: “After listening to an opera by Bellini, that has delighted
us, we discover on reflection, that its charm is owing to the clear
melody, to the simple, lofty and beautiful song of the Italian composer.
To treasure in the memory these delightful melodies is certainly no
grave sin. Nor is it a heavier one to pray to heaven, before retiring to
rest, that it may inspire German composers with the secret of these
melodies and a like manner of using them.”
The truth is that in music, as in all other arts, we do what we can
rather than what we should most like to do, and he is wisest who is
guided by his own genius. The genius of Camille Saint-Saëns is so rich
in resources that he can safely trust himself and let the spirit work
within him as it wills. There are composers who, forgetting that beauty
is inseparable from high art, strive after eminence by seeking
originality at any cost, and who do not disdain to make that art,
harmonious before and beyond all other arts, the art of torturing our
ears with music that is _per se_ inharmonious. Is not Saint-Saëns right
when, in speaking of these psychological and hysterical composers, he
says with peculiar felicity: “It is certain that we cannot work too hard
to instil in the public a taste for pleasures of an elevated order; but
to offer it what is ingeniously described as ‘painful pleasure,’ to
offer a feast consisting of ‘exquisite suffering’ and ‘poetic
perversion,’ merely ends in mortification. When we wish to mortify our
souls we do not go to the theatre but to a convent.”
We may be asked for the opinion of the composer of “Faust,” “Roméo et
Juliette” and “Mireille,” concerning the composer of “Samson et Dalila,”
“Henry VIII.” and “Ascanio.” I am in a position to answer the question.
Gounod has spoken of Saint-Saëns in connection with his last opera as
follows: “That in the lyric drama, music should coalesce with the drama
and blend in one harmonious whole is an excellent theory, but only on
condition that in this indissoluble union, music shall still be true and
beautiful music; otherwise the union is no more than a cruel bondage for
one of the arts so joined, and that art is Music. Throughout the works
of Saint-Saëns we are in communion with an artist who never for an
instant forgets or sacrifices his art; everywhere and always is the
great musician present, and everywhere, too, the drama appears before
him as a _law_, not as a _yoke_. Passions, characters, situations, are
felt by him with the same certainty of discernment, whether in song,
declamation, recitative, or in the dramatic part which must be played by
his orchestra; and all this in an idiom and a form which are musically
irreproachable, insomuch that he has created true and lasting ‘morceaux
de musique’ even where the librettist did not provide the frame-work
expected of him.”
Were we not limited as to space, it would be a pleasing task to present
here a technical and æsthetic analysis of the operas of the French
master concerning whom we write thus briefly; but this would carry us
too far. Suffice it, from what we have already written, for the reader
to form a satisfactory judgment on the instrumental and vocal works of
Saint-Saëns. In the “Timbre d’Argent,” which has something in common
with the fable of “Faust,” we are in the midst of a musical and
choreographic fantasy. This score is very attractive and well emphasizes
a very pretty performance.
“La Princesse Jaune” transports us into the East, where reality seems as
a dream. It is a drawing-room comedy, the scene of which is laid in a
Japanese village, where Dutch tulips grow as rank as does the grass in
the fields; where the sky is blue, where everything is full of color and
appears smiling, joyous and lovable.
In “Etienne Marcel,” the illustrious Prévôt des Marchands, we have
historical drama, in the civil war waged for the triumph of communal
liberties. The rioters force a violent entrance into the Palais de la
Cité, and the voices of scoffers are heard alternating with the cries of
raving fanatics. It is terrible, and quite characteristic of the
Parisian mind in the troublous times when the streets became one great
battle-field. Love, of course, finds its place in “Etienne Marcel,” a
love gentle and searching. Some of the contrasts are most happy, the
choruses are superb, the volume of sound is sublime.
“Samson et Dalila,” as is sufficiently indicated by the title, is a
biblical opera, almost an oratorio, reminding us of the “Joseph” of
Méhul. I was overflowing with enthusiasm on coming out from the
representation of “Samson et Dalila.” This score and the symphony in C
minor are, I believe, the two finest jewels in the crown of this musical
king. They are works full of the highest inspiration, of a most sublime
cast, wonderfully elaborate in style, and masterpieces in the fullest
sense of the word.
The gloomy subject of “Henry VIII.” opened up new fields to Saint-Saëns,
and afforded him a local color that influenced his music. The moment the
score opens, we feel that we know exactly where we are and whither we
are going. The principal personages in the drama have been each and all
instantaneously portrayed and their diverse characters are accurately
represented. The king of England, the Pope’s nightmare and the terror of
his queenly wives and victims, is, from a musical point of view,
especially well portrayed in his wild orgies and brutal amours. Anne
Boleyn fails to hide the pride that lies behind her love, although its
expression is not less charming on that account. Catherine of Arragon,
the noble and unfortunate forsaken one, is superb in her insulted
majesty, her pathetic and sweet melancholy. The choruses are treated in
a masterly manner, and there is one important “morceau d’ensemble” which
is a signal triumph of expressive and dramatic counterpoint. The airs in
the ballet impress us as being thoroughly English. As to the orchestra,
the importance of which cannot be over-estimated, it plays in a measured
and finished style and produces the effect of a powerful organ. Here we
have local color again, cleverly used.
“Ascanio” is the last dramatic work of Saint-Saëns. The fanatical
partisans of the Wagnerian theories, as we have already observed, were
not sparing of bitter criticism. Saint-Saëns must have found ample
consolation for this in the continuous applause showered upon him by the
public which always cordially welcomes whatever affords it pleasure.
“Ascanio” is indeed equal in all respect to “Henry VIII.,” and worthy
the composer, which is saying not a little of a man who has given such
treasures to all lovers of music.
[Illustration: Oscar Comettant]
[Illustration: