Among the contemporary masters of the musical lyric, the most shining
name is that of Robert Franz, a marked individuality, and, though
indirectly moulded by the influence of Schubert and Schumann, a creative
mind of a striking type.
The art-impulse, strikingly characteristic of Franz as a song composer,
or, perhaps, to express it more accurately, the art-limitation, is that
the musical inspiration is directly dependent on the poetic strength of
the _Lied_. He would be utterly at a loss to treat a poem which lacked
beauty and force. With but little command over absolute music, that flow
of melody which pours from some natures like a perennial spring, the
poetry of word is necessary to evoke poetry of tone.
Robert Franz, like Schumann, was embarrassed in his youth by the bitter
opposition of his family to his adoption of music, and, like the great
apostle of romantic music, his steady perseverance wore it out. He made
himself a severe student of the great masters, and rapidly acquired a
deep knowledge of the mysteries of harmony and counterpoint. There are
no songs with such intricate and difficult accompaniments, though always
vital to the lyrical motive, as those of Robert Franz. For a long time,
even after he felt himself fully equipped, Franz refrained from artistic
production, waiting till the processes of fermenting and clarifying
should end, in the mean while promising he would yet have a word to say
for himself.
With him, as with many other men of genius, the blow which broke the
seal of inspiration was an affair of the heart. He loved a beautiful and
accomplished woman, but loved unfortunately. The catastrophe ripened him
into artistic maturity, and the very first effort of his lyric power was
marked by surprising symmetry and fullness of power. He wrote to give
overflow to his deep feelings, and the song came from his heart of
hearts. Robert Schumann, the generous critic, gave this first work an
enthusiastic welcome, and the young composer leaped into reputation at a
bound. Of the four hundred or more songs written by Robert Franz, there
are perhaps fifty which rank as masterpieces. His life has passed
devoid of incident, though rich in spiritual insight and passion, as
his _Lieder_ unmistakably show. Though the instrumental setting of this
composer's songs is so elaborate and beautiful oftentimes, we frequently
find him at his best in treating words full of the simplicity and
_naïvete_ of the old _Volkslied_. Many of his songs are set to the poems
of Robert Burns, one of the few British poets who have been able to give
their works the subtile singing quality which comes not merely of the
rhythm but of the feeling of the verse. Heine also furnished him with
the themes of many of his finest songs, for this poet has been an
inexhaustible treasure-trove to the modern lyric composer. One of the
most striking features of Franz as a composer is found in the delicate
light and shade, introduced into the songs by the simplest means, which
none but the man of genius would think of; for it is the great artist
who attains his ends through the simplest effects.
While the same atmosphere of thought and feeling is felt in the
spiritual life of Robert Franz which colored the artistic being of
Schubert and Schumann, there is a certain repose and balance all
his own. We get the idea of one never carried away by his genius, or
delivering passionate utterances from the Delphic tripod, but the
master of all his powers, the conscious and skillful ruler of his own
inspirations. If the sense of spontaneous freshness is sometimes lost,
perhaps there is a gain in breadth and finish. If Schubert has unequaled
melody and dramatic force, Schumann drastic and pointed intensity,
Robert Franz deserves the palm for the finish and symmetry of his work.
Of the great song composers, Franz Schubert is the unquestioned master.
To him the modern artistic song owes its birth, and, as in the myth of
Pallas, we find birth and maturity simultaneous. It bloomed at once into
perfect flower, and the wrorld will probably never see any essential
advances in it. It is this form of music which appeals most widely to
the human heart, to old and young, high and low, learned and ignorant.
It has "the one touch of Nature which makes the whole world kin." Even
the mind not attuned to sympathy with the more elaborate forms of music
is soothed and delighted by it; for--
"It is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,
Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love
Like the old age."