The chief theme of the fandango in this _Spanish Caprice_ is announced
immediately by the trombones, and a related theme for wood-wind
instruments follows. Both themes are repeated by oboes and violins,
while flutes and clarinets have figured in accompaniment. There is a
variation in dance form for solo violin. The chief theme in a modified
version is given to bassoons and violoncellos. The clarinet has a solo
with fandango accompaniment, and the dance grows more and more furious
until the chief theme is heard again from the trombones. The _fandango_
suddenly is changed into the “Alborada” of the first movement, _Coda,
vivo_. There is a short closing _presto_.
CHARLES CAMILLE
SAINT-SAËNS
(Born at Paris, October 9, 1835; died at Algiers, December 16, 1921)
An enemy of Saint-Saëns—and Saint-Saëns made enemies by his barbed
words—might have applied to him the lines of Juvenal:
_Grammaticus, rhetor, geometres, pictor, aliptes,
Augur, Schoenobates, medicus, magus, omnia novit.
Graeculus esuriens in coelum, jusseris, ibit_—[42]
for Saint-Saëns was not satisfied with the making of music or the career
of a virtuoso. Organist, pianist, caricaturist, dabbler in science,
enamored of mathematics and astronomy, amateur comedian, feuilletonist,
critic, traveler, archæologist—he was a restless man.
He was of less than average height, thin, nervous, sick-faced; with
great and exposed forehead, hair habitually short, beard frosted. His
eyes were almost level with his face. His eagle-beak would have excited
the admiration of Sir Charles Napier, who once exclaimed: “Give me a man
with plenty of nose.” Irritable, whimsical, ironical, paradoxical,
indulging in sudden changes of opinion, he was faithful to friends,
appreciative of certain rivals, kindly disposed toward young composers,
zealous in practical assistance as well as in verbal encouragement. A
man that knew the world and sparkled in conversation; fond of society;
at ease and on equal terms with leaders in art, literature, fashion. A
man whose Monday receptions were long famous in Paris, eagerly
anticipated by _Tout Paris_; yet never so happy as when acting Calchas
to Bizet’s or Regnault’s Helen in Offenbach’s delightful _La Belle
Hélène_, or impersonating in an extraordinary costume Gounod’s
Marguerite surprised by the casket of jewels. An indefatigable student
of Bach, he parodied the Italian opera of the ’thirties, ’forties,
’fifties in _Gabriella di Vergi_.
Then there is his amusing _Carnival des Animaux_, which was written, as
his _Gabriella di Vergi_, without intention of publication. A Parisian
from crown of head to sole of foot; yet a nomad.
In 1867 Berlioz called Saint-Saëns “one of the greatest musicians of our
epoch.” In 1878 Bülow lamented in a letter to Hans von Bronsart that
there was no musician in Germany like Saint-Saëns “except you and me.”
Liszt’s admiration for Saint-Saëns is well known. In 1918 there were
some, even in this country, who applauded him as the greatest living
composer. On the other hand, there have been critics who said that he
was too much of a musician to be a great composer or creator. The praise
of Gounod—“Saint-Saëns will write at will a work _à la Rossini_, _à la
Verdi_, _à la Schumann_, _à la Wagner_”—was counted by them a reproach;
it was regarded as a courteous manner of saying, “Saint-Saëns has the
unfortunate faculty of assimilation.” Hugues Imbert, discussing him,
admitted that there is no graver censure than to say of an artist, “He
is incapable of being himself.”
So far as an intimate knowledge of music as a science is concerned, so
far as fluency and ease of expression are concerned, Saint-Saëns was
beyond a doubt a remarkable musician.
An extraordinary man and musician. Possessing an uncommon technical
equipment as composer, pianist, organist; French in clearness of
expression, logic, exquisite taste; a master of rhythm, with a clear
appreciation of tonal color and the value of simplicity in
orchestration, he is seldom warm and tender; seldom does he indulge
himself in sentiment, passion, imagination. With him orthodox form must
always be kept in mind. Hence perhaps the reactionary attitude of his
later years; his sharp criticism of the more modern school of French
composers, including César Franck. His wit and brilliancy are
indisputable. He seldom touches the heart or sweeps away the judgment.
He was not a great creator, yet his name is ever to be mentioned with
respect. Without consideration of his many admirable compositions, one
should bear this in mind: In the face of difficulties, discouragement,
misunderstanding, sneers, he worked steadily from his youth up, and
always to the best of his ability, for righteousness in absolute music;
he endeavored to introduce into French music thoughtfulness and
sincerity for the advantage and the glory of the country that he dearly
loved.