THE FOLLOWERS OF CÉSAR FRANCK
The Foundations of modern French nationalism: Berlioz;
the operatic masters; Saint-Saëns, Lalo, Franck, etc.;
conditions favoring native art development--The pioneers of
ultra-modernism: Emanuel Chabrier and Gabriel Fauré--Vincent
d'Indy: his instrumental and his dramatic works--Other pupils
of Franck: Ernest Chausson; Henri Duparc; Alexis de Castillon;
Guy Ropartz.
I
Ultra-modern French music constitutes a movement whose significance
it may be still too early to estimate judicially, whose causes
are relatively obscure and unprophetic, but whose attainments are
exceedingly concrete from the historical viewpoint aside from the
æsthetic controversies involved. Emerging from a generation hampered
by over-regard for convention, vacillating and tentative in technical
method in almost all respects save the theatre, and too often
artificial there, a renascence of French music has been assured
comparable in lucidity of style and markedly racial qualities to the
golden days of a Couperin or a Rameau, while fearing no contemporary
rival in emotional discrimination and delicate psychological analysis,
and not infrequently attaining a masterly and fundamental vigor. The
French composers of to-day have virtually freed dramatic procedures
from Italian traditions, and even gradually distanced the Wagnerian
incubus. They have re-asserted a nationalistic spirit in music, with or
without dependence on folk-song material, with a potent individuality
of idiom which has not been so persistent since the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries. Finally, French critical activity, scholarship,
research, educational institutions, standards of performance have risen
to a pitch of excellence formerly denied to all save the Germans.
While the roots of this attainment go back half a century and more,
the flower of achievement is still so recent as to pique inquiry. It
must be acknowledged that on the surface no causes are discoverable
which are proportionate to the results attained, but closer examination
discloses an unmistakable drift. During almost three-quarters of the
nineteenth century, despite the epoch-making work of Berlioz, the
efforts of French composers were centred in one or another of the
forms of opera. Auber, Boieldieu, Meyerbeer and others were succeeded
by Gounod, Thomas and Délibes, leading insensibly to Massenet and
Bizet. Gounod's _Faust_ (1859) and _Roméo et Juliette_ (1867), Thomas'
_Mignon_ (1866), Délibes' ballet _Coppélia_ (1870), Massenet's early
work _Don César de Bazan_ (1872), and Bizet's _Carmen_ (1875), unjustly
pilloried as 'Wagnerian,' were typical of the characteristic tendencies
of the period.
Yet it was precisely at a time when Parisians were seemingly engrossed
in the theatre, that signs of radical departure were apparent, and
these may be fittingly considered the forerunners of the later
standpoint. Up to nearly the middle of the nineteenth century the
_Concerts du Conservatoire_, themselves the successors to somewhat
anomalous organizations, were the only regular orchestral concerts
in Paris. In 1849 Antoine Seghers reorganized the _Société de Sainte
Cécile_, at which works by Gounod, Gouvy, and Saint-Saëns were
occasionally in evidence. In 1851 Jules Pasdeloup founded the _Société
des Jeunes Artistes du Conservatoire_, merged ten years later into
the _Concerts Populaires_, which afforded a definite opportunity, if
somewhat grudgingly accorded, to young French composers. In 1855
Jules Armingaud formed a string quartet, later augmented by wind
instruments, for the popularization of chamber music. He persisted
against the obstacles of popular indifference, and ultimately became
even fashionable. About this time also came an awakening in the
study of plain-chant and the religious music of the sixteenth and
preceding centuries. In 1853 Niedermeyer founded the _École de Musique
Religieuse_, a significant institution which eventually broadened
its educative scope into a fairly wide survey of musical literature.
Other instrumental organizations of later date, and one particularly
significant attempt at educational enfranchisement, will receive
mention at the proper place. The foregoing instances serve to point out
the seeming paradox of the rise of instrumental music at an apparently
unpropitious time.
Without minimizing the genuine impetus given to instrumental music
by the establishment of the foregoing organizations, the trend of
ultra-modern French tendencies would have been dubious were it not
for the preparatory foundation laid by Camille Saint-Saëns, Edouard
Lalo and César Franck. Since the work of these men has already been
estimated in previous chapters, it will suffice to indicate the precise
nature of the influence exerted by each.
Saint-Saëns, possessing marvellous assimilative ingenuity as well as
intellectual virtuosity, brought the contrapuntal manner of Bach, the
forms of Beethoven, and the romanticism of Mendelssohn and Schumann
into skilled combination with his own somewhat illusive and paradoxical
individuality. To this he added a wayward fancy for exotic material,
not treated however in its native spirit, but often in a scholastic
manner that nevertheless often had a charm of its own. From the
preparatory standpoint his conspicuous virtue lay in the incredible
fertility with which he produced a long series of chamber music
works, concertos and symphonies possessing such salient qualities
of invention and workmanship as to force their acknowledgment from
the Parisian public. If his music at its worst is little better than
sterile virtuosity in which individual conviction seems in abeyance,
such works as the fifth piano concerto, third violin concerto and
third symphony (to name a few only) bear a well-nigh classic stamp
in balance between expression and formal mastery. Saint-Saëns, then,
popularized the sonata form, in its various manifestations, by means of
a judicious mixture of conventional form and Gallic piquancy, so that
a hitherto indifferent public was forced to applaud spontaneously at
last. If to a later generation Saint-Saëns seems over-conventional and
at times sententious rather than eloquent, we must remember that in
its day his music was thought subversive of true progress, and unduly
Teutonic in its artistic predilections. To-day we ask why he was not
more unhesitatingly subjective. But possibly that would be expecting
too much of a pioneer. Any estimate of Saint-Saëns would be incomplete
without mention of his effective championing of the symphonic poem at
a period when it was still under suspicion. His four specimens of this
type show impeccable workmanship, piquant grace, true Gallic economy
in the disposition of his material. They undoubtedly paved the way
for works of later composers manifesting alike greater profundity of
thought and higher qualities of the imagination.
Edouard Lalo stands in sharp contrast to Saint-Saëns. He was of an
impressionable, dramatic temperament, drawn spontaneously toward the
exotic and the coloristic. His Spanish origin betrays itself in the
vivacity of his rhythms, and the picturesque quality of his melodies.
If indeed the crowning success of a career full of reverses was the
opera _Le Roi d'Ys_ (sketched 1875-6, revised 1886-7) produced in 1888
when the composer was sixty-five, his services to instrumental music
are none the less palpable. If Saint-Saëns turns to the exotic as a
refreshment from a species of intellectual ennui, with Lalo it is the
result of a fundamental instinct. Lalo's ultimately characteristic vein
is to be found in concertos, of lax if not incoherent form, employing
Spanish, Russian and Norwegian themes, a Norwegian Rhapsody for
orchestra, and scintillant suites of nationalistic dances from a ballet
_Namouna_. He became a deliberate advocate of 'local color' treated
with a veracious and not a conventional atmosphere, in which the
brilliant orchestral style was more than a casual medium. His salient
qualities were romantic conviction and emotional ardor, in which he
provided a sincere and positive example whose influence is tangible in
later composers. Herein lies his historical import.
It may seem unnecessary to refer again to the unselfish, laborious yet
exalted personality of César Franck, or needless to rehearse the humble
and patient obscurity of his life for almost thirty years, the gradual
assembling of his devoted pupils, the unfolding of his superb later
works, and their posthumous general recognition, but it is only through
such reiteration that the causes of his position become manifest. For
it is precisely through such vicissitudes that convictions are forged
and that the composers' idiom becomes forcefully eloquent. Franck was
not content with superficial assimilation of technical procedures,
nor with a facile eclecticism, hence it is the moral character of the
artist which has affected his disciples to a degree even overshadowing
his technical instruction. Like Saint-Saëns, Franck went directly to
Bach for the essence of canonic and fugal style, to Beethoven for the
cardinal principles of the variation and sonata forms. But unlike
Saint-Saëns he did not detach external characteristics and apply
them half-heartedly; he grasped the basic qualities of the music
he studied, yet expressed himself freely and elastically in his own
speech. He taught and practised not the letter but the spirit of style.
As regards historic import, Franck's harmonic idiom (while remotely
related to that of Liszt), perfectly commensurate with his seraphic
ideality, has become infiltrated more or less into the individuality
of all his pupils. Less imitated but of great intrinsic significance
is Franck's virtual reincarnation of the canon, chorale prelude, fugue
and variation forms in terms of modern mystical expressiveness. His
crowning historical feat was the fusion of hints from Beethoven (fifth
and ninth symphonies), Berlioz's somewhat artificial but suggestive
manipulation of themes, Liszt's plausible transformation of musical
ideas for a programmistic purpose, into an independent solution of
thematic unity employing a 'generative' theme to supply all or nearly
all the thematic material. It may be suggested that Saint-Saëns had
anticipated Franck in this respect (third symphony in C minor), but the
latter had already worked out the idea in his quintet (1878-79) and
there are germs of a similar treatment in his first trio (1841).[44] If
Franck's pupils have adopted this idea of thematic variety based upon
unity, in differing degrees of fidelity, this device remains a favorite
procedure with the Franckist school, and Vincent d'Indy has employed
its resources with conspicuous success.
But the secret of Franck's enduring influence does not consist solely
in the genuine creative aspect of his technical mastery despite its
ineffaceable example. It lies equally in the pervading morality of
his æsthetic principles, and in the intrinsic message of his musical
thought. In place of vivacious, piquant but often artificial and
conventionalized emotion of a recognizably Gallic type, he brought to
music a serenely mystical Flemish (or, to be more exact, Walloon)
temperament, a nature naïvely pure and lofty, a character of placid
aspiration and consummate trust. His faith moved technical and
expressive mountains. Through the steadfastly permeating quality of his
artistic convictions he counteracted the superficial and meretricious
elements in French music, and substituted the calm but radiant ideals
of a gospel of beauty which he not only preached but lived in his own
works. Understood only by the few almost to the hour of his death, he
preceded his epoch so far in fearless self-expression that it seems
almost inaccurate to characterize him as a preparatory figure. He is
not only the greatest of these, a forerunner in many respects of a
later period, but also a prophet to whom one wing of French composers
look for their inspiration and solace.
The foregoing names are not alone in their contributory effect upon
modern French composers. Among many, a few names may be selected as
worthy of mention. Georges Bizet, essentially of the theatre, in his
overtures _Roma_ (1861), _Patrie_ (1875), the suite _Jeux d'Enfants_
(1872), a charming series of miniatures, as well as the classic suites
from the incidental music to Daudet's _L'Arlésienne_, disclose a
remarkable and specific gift for instrumental music, whose continuance
was only limited by his untimely death.
Benjamin Godard, who presumably may have also died before attaining
the summit of his powers, was an over-fertile composer of indisputable
melodic gift and spontaneity of mood, whose most conspicuous defect was
an almost total lack of critical discrimination. In consequence, few of
his works have survived, and then chiefly for the practical usefulness
of a few pieces for violin or piano.
Jules Massenet, even more emphatically destined for the theatre than
Bizet, showed in his early works, such as the overtures _Pompeia_
(1865), _Phèdre_ (1873), _Les Erynnies_ (suite from incidental music
to the drama by Leconte de Lisle, 1873), as well as in numerous
orchestral suites and shorter pieces, an unusual instinct for
concise precision of form, clarity of style, and an extraordinarily
dextrous, if at times coarse, manipulation of the orchestra. But his
sympathies were never with the 'advanced school,' and his influence,
a considerable force despite the sneers of critics, has been exerted
almost entirely in the field of opera.
As a further preliminary to the evolution of ultra-modern French
music, several important manifestations of progress must be discussed.
The Franco-Prussian war of 1870, an irretrievable misfortune to the
French people politically, acted as a direct and far-reaching stimulus
toward a nationalistic tendency in music. It led to the rejection
of extra-French influences, that of Wagner among them, although the
current of imitation became ultimately too strong to be resisted. It
brought about a conscious striving toward individuality in technical
methods and the deliberate attainment of racial traits in expression.
The strength and unity of this sentiment among French musicians was
strikingly exemplified in the founding as early as 1871 of the National
Society of French Music by Romain Bussine and Camille Saint-Saëns. Its
purpose, as indicated in the device _Ars Gallica_, was to provide for
and encourage the performance of works by French composers, whether
printed or in manuscript.[45] From the beginning the Society has
striven amazingly, and it is not too much to assert that its programs
constitute a literal epitome of French musical evolution and progress.
Saint-Saëns, the first president of the Society, resigned owing to
disagreement over a policy adopted. César Franck then acted virtually
as president until his death in 1890. Since then Vincent d'Indy has
been at its head.
The pioneer efforts of Pasdeloup in establishing orchestral concerts
were ably continued by Édouard Colonne in connection with different
organizations beginning in 1873, and by Charles Lamoureux in 1881.
Colonne's great memorial was the efficient popularization of Berlioz,
while Lamoureux achieved a like service, not without surmounting almost
insuperable obstacles, for the music of Wagner. Both coöperated in
encouraging the work of native composers, if less ardently than the
National Society, still to a sufficient extent to prove to the Parisian
public the existence of French music of worth. In other respects the
educational achievement of both orchestras has been admirable, and
both are active to-day, the Colonne concerts being directed by Gabriel
Pierné, the Lamoureux concerts by Camille Chevillard.
In 1892, Charles Bordes (1863-1905) founded a choral society, _Les
Chanteurs de Saint Gervaise_, to spread a knowledge of the choral music
of Palestrina and his epoch, as well as the study of plain-chant. Four
years later this society was merged into the _Schola Cantorum_, an
_école supérieure de musique_, with Charles Bordes, Alexandre Guilmant
and Vincent d'Indy as founders, to perpetuate the spirit and teachings
of César Franck. Intended originally as an active protest against the
superficial standpoint of the Conservatoire before the administration
of Gabriel Fauré, the _Schola_ aims to have the pupil pass through the
entire course of musical evolution with a curriculum of exhaustive
thoroughness. Aside from the practicability or the æsthetic soundness
of this theory, the _Schola_ attempts to furnish a comprehensive
education that is praiseworthy in its aims. Further than this the
attitude of the _Schola_ possesses an historical import in that it
embodies a deliberate reaction against the revolutionary tendencies of
Debussy and Ravel, and aims to conserve the outlook of Franck.
To complete the preparatory influences bearing upon ultra-modern French
music one should mention more than tentatively the palpable stimulation
of the so-called 'Neo-Russian School' comprising Balakireff, Borodine,
Rimsky-Korsakoff, Cui, and more particularly Moussorgsky. While these
men have reacted more noticeably upon individuals rather than upon
modern French composers as a group, their example has been none the
less tangible. Russian sensitiveness as to orchestral timbre, their use
of folk-song, their predilection for novel rhythms, exotic atmosphere,
have all appealed to the receptive sensibilities of the ultra-modern
French composer.
II
The pioneers of ultra-modern French music are Emmanuel Chabrier and
Gabriel Fauré, men of strikingly dissimilar temperaments and equally
remote style and achievement. Each is, however, equally significant in
his own province.
Alexis-Emmanuel Chabrier (1841-94) was born at Ambert (Puy-de-Dôme) in
the South of France. One can at once infer his temperament from his
birthplace. For Chabrier combined seemingly irreconcilable elements:
robust vigor, ardent sincerity and intense impressionability. With an
inexpressible sense of humor, he possessed a delicate and distinguished
poetic instinct side by side with deeply human sentiments. His early
bent toward music was only permitted with the understanding that it
remain an avocation. Accordingly Chabrier came to Paris to be educated
at the age of fifteen, obtained his lawyer's certificate when he
was twenty-one and forthwith entered the office of the Ministry of
the Interior. In the meantime he had acquired astonishing skill as
a pianist, studied harmony and counterpoint, made friends with many
poets, painters and musicians, among them Paul Verlaine, Édouard
Manet, Duparc, d'Indy, Fauré and Messager. 'Considered up to then
as an amateur,'[46] Chabrier surprised professional Paris with an
opéra comique in three acts, _L'Étoile_ (1877) (played throughout
this country _without_ authorization and _with_ interpolated music
by Francis Wilson as 'The Merry Monarch'), and a one-act operetta,
_L'Éducation manquée_ (1879), both of which were described as
'exceeding in musical interest the type of piece represented.'[47]
A visit to Germany with Henri Duparc, where he heard _Tristan und
Isolde_, affected his impressionable nature so deeply that he
resolved to give himself entirely to music and in 1880 resigned from
his position at the Ministry. (His paradoxical character was never
more succinctly illustrated than by the fact that he later composed
'Humorous Quadrilles on Motives from Tristan.')[48]
In 1881 Chabrier became secretary and chorus master for the newly
founded Lamoureux concerts, and helped to produce portions of
_Lohengrin_ and _Tristan_. During this year he composed the 'Ten
Picturesque Pieces' for piano, from which he made a _Suite Pastorale_,
in which the orchestral idiom was not always skillful. From his
position in the Lamoureux orchestra he soon learned the secrets of
orchestral effect from their source. In 1882 he went to Spain, notebook
in hand, and in the following year burst upon the Parisian public with
a brilliant rhapsody for orchestra on Spanish themes entitled _España_.
This highly coloristic, poetic and impassioned piece at once placed
him in the front rank of contemporary French composers, and remains a
landmark in a new epoch for its conviction, spontaneous inspiration,
rhythmic vitality and individual treatment of the orchestra. If Lalo
had shown the way, Chabrier at once surpassed the older musician on
his own ground.
During the next few years Chabrier produced some of his most
characteristic works, the 'Three Romantic Waltzes' for two pianos, one
of which evoked enthusiasm from a Parisian wit for its 'exquisite bad
taste,' a remarkable idyllic _scena_ for solo, chorus and orchestra,
_La Sulamite_, a _Habañera_, transcribed for piano and also for
orchestra. But by far the most ambitious work of these years was a
serious opera _Gwendoline_ on a text by Catulle Mendès, produced at the
Théâtre de la Monnaie in Brussels in 1886. Unfortunately the artistic
success of this opera was abruptly closed by the bankruptcy of the
management. But Germany received _Gwendoline_ with marked favor, and it
was performed at Karlsruhe, Leipzig, Dresden, Munich and Düsseldorf.
_Gwendoline_, despite some obvious defects, is a work of unusual
historical import, since it constitutes the first thorough-going
attempt, aside from the tentative efforts of Reyer, Bizet, Massenet
and others, to incorporate the dramatic reforms of Wagner in an
opera of distinctively French character. Mendès' poem on a legendary
subject is frankly imitative of scenes and characters from Wagner's
music dramas. Chabrier as frankly uses leading-motives, yet he does
not conform slavishly to the Wagnerian symphonic treatment of them.
Moreover Chabrier is under an equal obligation to Wagner in the use
of the orchestra, if indeed there are many pages and scenes which are
unmistakably Gallic in their delicacy of conception and in individual
color effects. Indeed, there was nothing in Chabrier's previous career
to presuppose such genuine dramatic gifts, such fanciful poetry or such
depths of sentiment as are to be discovered in this work, even though
Mendès' text is commonplace, and his drama too ill-proportioned to
form the basis of a satisfactory opera. It cannot be denied that the
apotheosis of the dying lovers at the end of Act II is somewhat tawdry
and mock heroic in the persistent use of a banal theme; on the other
hand, the opening chorus of Act I, Gwendoline's ballad in the same
act, the delicate sensibility of the prelude to Act II, the charming
bridal music including the tender _Epithalame_ in the same act, all go
to establish the intrinsic value and the pioneer force of the work.
_Gwendoline_ is and remains a magnificent experiment, which still
preserves much of its vitality intact.
Justifiably discouraged, if not overmastered, by the misfortunes
attending the production of _Gwendoline_, Chabrier nevertheless brought
out in the following year (1887) an opéra comique, _Le Roi malgré lui_,
in which the lyric charm, vivacity and humor of the music achieved an
instant success. Within a few days, however, the Opéra Comique burned
to the ground. Despite this crushing blow, Chabrier continued to
persist in composition. He published many songs, fantastic, grotesque
and sentimental, among them the inimitable 'Villanelle of the Little
Ducks,' a poignant and exquisitely lyric chorus for women's voices and
orchestra, 'To Music' (1890), a rollicking _Bourée fantasque_ (1891)
for piano, one of the boldest and most paradoxical instances of his
combining of humor and poetic atmosphere. In addition he was working
feverishly at another opera, _Briseis_, which he hoped to make his
masterpiece, when his health gave way. When, after appalling struggles,
Chabrier had induced the Opéra to give _Gwendoline_ late in 1893,
he was too ill to realize or participate in his success and in the
following year he died.
The most striking feature in Chabrier's art was his uncompromising
sincerity and directness. He expressed himself in his music with
undeviating fidelity, despite the shattering of conventions involved.
Herein lies the intrinsic value of his music, and the potency of
his example. Whether his medium were a humorous song, a fantastic
piano-piece, a pastoral idyl or a tragic drama, he followed his
creative impulse with an outspoken daring not to be equalled since that
stormy revolutionary, Berlioz. Chabrier possessed a positive genius for
dance-rhythms and humorous marches which he redeemed from coarseness
by surprising turns of melodic and harmonic inventiveness. Thus the
_choeur dansé_ from the second act of _Le Roi malgré lui_, the first of
the 'Three Romantic Waltzes,' the witty _Joyeuse Marche_ and finally
_España_ are genuinely classics, despite their lack of 'seriousness.'
But Chabrier was equally epoch-making in the sincerity and glamour with
which he painted lyric moods of poetic intensity and extremely personal
sentiment. Gwendoline's ballad, the bridal music and _Epithalame_
from the same opera, _La Sulamite_ and _À la Musique_ display an
astonishing variety in scope of sentiment for the robust and almost
over-exuberant composer of _España_ and the _Bourée fantasque_. In
sensuous and poignant imaginativeness again, Chabrier is the forerunner
to a considerable extent of the later group whose essential purpose
was truthfulness of atmosphere. While as a dramatic composer Chabrier
followed deliberately in the footsteps of Wagner, his own expressive
individuality maintained itself as persistently as could be expected
from the force of the spell to which it was subjected. Also, Chabrier
was in this respect but one of many, and not until the fusion of
Wagnerian method and French individuality had been tried out, could the
native composer at last enfranchise himself. Harmonically, Chabrier was
bold and defiant in a generation which was submissive to convention.
With an idiom essentially his own, he foreshadowed many so-called
innovations in sequences of seventh chords, the use of ninths,
startling modulations, and even a preparing of the whole-tone scale. In
short, Chabrier's legacy to French music was that of a self-confident
personality, daring to express himself with total unreserve in an
assimilative age which deferred to public taste and superficialities of
style.
Between Chabrier and Gabriel Fauré there can be no comparison, and
no parallel save that both have exerted a constructive influence
on modern French music. Where Chabrier was high-spirited almost to
boisterousness, Fauré is suave, urbane, polished, a man of society
who nevertheless preserves curiously poetic and mystical instincts.
Born in 1845 at Pamiers, in that district known as the _Midi_, he is
of the reflective rather than the spontaneous type. Meeting with a
relatively slight opposition from his father in cultivating his early
manifested gift for music, he came to Paris when only nine years of
age and studied for eleven years at Niedermeyer's _École de Musique
Religieuse_. He studied first with Pierre Dietsch, who is remembered
chiefly for his purchase of Wagner's text to 'The Flying Dutchman' and
for the inconspicuous success of his music, then with Saint-Saëns, who
drilled him thoroughly in Bach and the German romanticists. After four
years' incongenial work at Rennes, as organist and teacher (in the
latter capacity watchful mothers were loath to confide their daughters'
education to the attractive youth), he served in the Franco-Prussian
war. Then, returning to Paris, he occupied various positions in
Parisian churches before settling finally at the Madeleine. From 1877
to 1889 he made several trips to Germany to see Liszt and to hear
Wagner's music. During these journeys he won glowing comments from such
diverse personalities as von Bülow, César Cui and Tschaikowsky. In 1896
he became teacher of composition at the Paris Conservatory; in 1905
he became director, and still holds this position. He has thoroughly
reorganized the Conservatory, enlarged the scope of its curriculum,
especially as regards composition, and has accomplished significant
results as a teacher.
Fauré has not been equally successful in every field of composition.
His development has been inward. He is first and foremost a composer
of songs, and his attainment in this direction alone would maintain
his position. He has been a fertile writer of piano pieces. Many of
them are disfigured by a light salon style; a considerable number,
however, are of intrinsically poetic expression. Despite respectable
achievements in chamber music (he has been awarded prizes), the quintet
for piano and strings op. 89 (1906) is the one outstanding work which
is conspicuous in modern French music, although the early violin
sonata, op. 13 (1876), had its day of popularity. He has written some
agreeable choral music, of which the cantata 'The Birth of Venus'
is notable if unequal. There is noble music in the Requiem op. 48
(1887) and the final number _In Paradisum_ is an exceptionally fine
instance of mystical expression. Fauré's orchestral music is relatively
insignificant, and his incidental music to various dramas has not left
a permanent mark, save for the thoroughly charming suite arranged
from the music to _Pelléas et Mélisande_ op. 80 (1898). Not until the
performance of _Pénélope_ (1913) at Monte Carlo and Paris has Fauré
accomplished a successful opera.
In song-writing, however, Fauré has achieved a remarkable distinction
not exceeded by any of his countrymen. Some of the early songs
dating from the years spent at Rennes, as _Le Papillon et la Fleur_
and _Mai_, suggest naturally enough the influence of Saint-Saëns.
Others in the first volume, _Sérénade Toscane_, _Après un rêve_, and
_Sylvie_, show clearly a growing independence, while _Lydia_ in its
delicate archaism foreshadows Fauré's later achievements in this
style. From 1880 onwards, Fauré at once launches into his own subtle
and fascinating vein. If some of the songs in a second volume suggest
the _salon_ as do many of the piano pieces, they have a peculiar
elegance of mood and a finesse of workmanship which elevate them above
any hint of vulgarity. Such are the songs _Nell_, _Rencontre_ and
_Chanson d'Amour_. But there are many songs in the same volume which
bespeak eloquently Fauré's higher gifts for lyrical interpretation and
imaginative delineation of mood. Among these the most salient are _Le
Secret_ (1882), remarkable for its intimate sentiment, _En Prière_,
delicately mystical though slightly sentimental, _Nocturne_ (1886),
which is original in its harmonic idiom; _Clair de Lune_ (1887),
adroitly suggestive of Verlaines' Watteauesque text; _Les Berceaux_
(1882), expansive in its human emotion; and _Les Roses d'Ispahan_,
replete with an impassioned exoticism. In a third volume are two songs
which show Fauré's individuality in a significantly broader scope.
These are _Au cimitière_ (1889), a profound elegy, typical of the
outspoken lamentation of the Latin temperament, and _Prison_, in which
the tragic emotion is heightened by an intensely declamatory style.
Fauré has published other sets of songs, among them _La Bonne Chanson_
(1891-92), texts by Verlaine, and _La Chanson d'Ève_ (1907-10), texts
by Charles Van Lerbergle, which contain many striking specimens of his
delicate lyricism, but none more significant, except possibly from the
virtue of added maturity, than those already mentioned. As a whole, the
imaginative and expressive traits of Fauré's songs are partially due to
his unerring instinct in the choice of texts by the most distinguished
French poets, including Leconte de Lisle, Villiers de Lisle-Adam, Paul
Verlaine, Jean Richepin, Sully-Prudhomme, Armand Silvestre, Charles
Grandmougin, Charles Baudelaire and others.
It is not too much to say that Fauré has vitalized the song as no
French composer had done hitherto, and that his influence has been
paramount among his younger contemporaries despite divergences of
individuality. Furthermore, weighing the differences of race and
temperament, they can be successfully compared with the German
romanticists. If they do not scale the same heights, sound the same
depths, or approach the artless simplicity of German lyricism, their
poetry is far more subtle, imaginative and varied in its infinite
differentiation of mood. In these songs are the manifestations of suave
elegance, individual perfume, sometimes sensuous, sometimes mystical,
a singularly poetic essence expressed in music that delights alike by
its refined workmanship, melodic and harmonic ingenuity. In his songs,
Fauré is at once transitory and definitive; he begins experimentally,
but soon attains ultra-modern significance.
_Pénélope_, text by Réné Fauchois, is a lyric drama presenting the
legend of Ulysses' return with a few unessential variants. It does
not attempt therefore a drama of large outlines, but is content to
remain within the scope prescribed by its frame. Fauré also has wisely
followed within similar lines as being the more compatible with his
lyric talent. Nevertheless we find in many episodes the distinguished
invention which marks his songs, a style which if somewhat too
restrained is nevertheless adequate. The first act contains many
passages of lyrical and emotional charm, but not until the climax
of the third act (the slaying of the suitors) does Fauré arrive at
genuine intensity. If _Pénélope_ cannot be classed with _Pelléas et
Mélisande_ or _Louise_, if it does not convince one that Fauré is a
born dramatist, it contains too much that is poignantly beautiful to be
dismissed hastily. Furthermore it possesses distinct historical import
as owing virtually nothing to the thralldom of Wagnerism. From this
standpoint it marks a conscious path of effort which has engaged French
composers for thirty years or so.
If some critical attention should rightfully be given Fauré's Elegy
for violoncello and piano op. 24 (1883), the quintet, one of his
noblest and most individual works, the Requiem, the incidental music
to _Pelléas et Mélisande_, these omissions are purposely made to
concentrate appreciation on Fauré as a song writer. If he is a
significant figure among French musicians of to-day on the intrinsic
merits of his creative fancy, he deserves none the less to be recorded
as an important innovator from the technical standpoint. He has
adapted, either literally or freely, modal harmony to lyrical or
dramatic suggestion. If Saint-Saëns had already done this in his third
symphony (finale), Fauré has employed this medium with greater fluidity
and poetic connotation. Moreover this device has been partially
imitated by Debussy. In his use of secondary sevenths in conventional
sequence, the use of altered chords suggesting the whole-tone scale,
of ninths, elevenths and thirteenths, he has gone beyond Chabrier,
and furnished many a hint to later composers. He is also original and
evolutionary in his ingeniously transitory modulations, adding a spice
of surprise to his music. A conspicuous defect, on the other hand, is
his abuse of the sequence, melodic or harmonic, a shortcoming which
has been transmitted in some degree to his pupil, Maurice Ravel. But
after all critical cavilling and analysis of his harmonic originality
his enduring charm and sincerity of sentiment defy analysis or
reconstruction.
III
If the pupils of César Franck are regarded to-day as constituting a
definitely reactionary wing in French music, they had in their youth
to contend with bitter and outspoken criticism for their propagation
of dangerously 'modern' tendencies. On the one hand, they were
under suspicion for their uncompromising fidelity to their master's
technical and æsthetic tenets, on the other they were abused for their
eager receptivity to Wagnerian principles in dramatic reform and use
of the orchestra. In addition, they had to justify the innovating
features (both harmonically and melodically) of their own definite
individualities.
To-day we can look back at the struggle and see that in reality they
were contending for principles essentially moderate and even classical
in drift, especially when viewed in the light of more revolutionary
younger contemporaries. We realize that in the main the influence of
Wagner was enormously salutary, even if it postponed considerably
the final achievement of a positively nationalistic dramatic idiom.
The lesson of an opera which should genuinely unite music and drama,
of an orchestral style at once of greater scope and of finesse in
illustrative detail, was sadly needed. Moreover it became at last an
honor to have been a pupil of Franck, and many claimed this distinction
who were not genuine disciples in reality. In addition there were
some, like Augusta Holmès, who studied under Franck but who were never
materially influenced by him, just as there were others like Paul Dukas
who showed the imprint of Franck's methods without actually having been
his pupil. Vincent d'Indy thus enumerates the real pupils of Franck:
Camille Bênoit, Pierre de Bréville, Albert Cahen, Charles Bordes,
Alexis de Castillon, Ernest Chausson, Arthur Coquard, Henri Duparc,
Augusta Holmès, Vincent d'Indy, Henri Kinkelmann, Guillaume Lekeu,
Guy Ropartz, Louis de Serres, Gaston Vallin and Paul de Wailly. Of
these de Castillon, Chausson, Duparc, d'Indy, Lekeu and Ropartz may be
considered as representative, and d'Indy by virtue of the totality of
his activity is entitled to first consideration.
Vincent d'Indy, born at Paris, March 27, 1851, of a family of ancient
nobility coming from Ardèche in the Cévennes, has steadily maintained
an attitude of intellectual aristocracy toward his art, although
like his master Franck he has labored most democratically for the
advancement of musical education.[49] Left motherless when an infant,
d'Indy was brought up by his grandmother, Mme. Théodore d'Indy, of
whom he likes to record that she had 'known Grétry and Monsigny, and
shown a keen appreciation of Beethoven in 1825.'[50] It was owing
to her that d'Indy came early in contact with the music of Bach and
Beethoven. Piano lessons under Diemer occupied him from the age of
ten onwards, and after 1865 he studied piano and harmony at the Paris
_Conservatoire_ with Marmontel and Lavignac. But d'Indy was also
genuinely interested in composition, and by 1870 he finished and
published some piano pieces, a short work for baritone and chorus,
and projected others of varying dimensions. When the Franco-Prussian
war broke out, d'Indy enlisted and served throughout. After the
war he took up the study of law in a half-hearted manner, but his
introduction by Henri Duparc to César Franck in 1872 settled his
musical career definitely. While Franck criticized severely the piano
quartet that d'Indy brought him, he was quick to perceive the latent
qualities of the young composer. Forthwith d'Indy studied the organ
with Franck at the _Conservatoire_, but recognizing the inadequate
opportunity of obtaining any technical drill in composition at this
institution, he became Franck's private pupil. With him he worked
faithfully and pertinaciously, and received not only an exhaustive
technical grounding, but an illuminating æsthetic comradeship rich
in comprehensive discussions of art-principles. D'Indy soon joined
the _Société Nationale de Musique Française_ and became an energetic
worker in its behalf, being secretary for nearly ten years and becoming
president after the death of Franck in 1890. Under his leadership the
Society has wonderfully extended its activity. In 1873 he spent a
fruitful month with Liszt at Weimar; in 1876 he heard a performance
of 'The Ring of the Nibelungs' at Bayreuth, and in 1881 he heard
'Parsifal.' From 1873 to 1878 he was kettle-drummer and chorus-master
in Colonne's orchestra, and in 1887 chorus-master for Lamoureux,
both exceedingly valuable practical experiences. In 1885 the city of
Paris awarded d'Indy the first prize for his choral work _Le Chant de
la Cloche_, whose reception in the following year placed him in the
front rank of French composers. In 1896 d'Indy with Charles Bordes
and Alexandre Guilmant founded the _Schola Cantorum_ as an _école
supérieure de musique_,[51] to perpetuate the spirit and practical
essence of Franck's teachings, to restore the study of plain-chant
and the music of the Palestrinian epoch to its proper dignity, and
to include in its curriculum masterpieces from the fifteenth to the
nineteenth centuries. With the death of Bordes in 1909 (compelled by
reason of ill health to live in the south of France, where he founded a
branch of the Schola at Montpellier in 1905) and of Guilmant in 1911,
d'Indy became sole director of the Schola. In this position he has been
prodigal of thought and strength.
To comprehend the nature of d'Indy's evolution, it is essential to
detail some of the more significant influences reacting upon him.
Brought up in a cultivated milieu, d'Indy absorbed Goethe, Schiller,
Herder and Lessing, while not a few of his works are founded on their
writings. The German romantic musicians, Mendelssohn, Schumann and
Weber, affected him fairly acutely for a while, but in a transitory
fashion. While the spell exercised by Franck on d'Indy is both deep and
permanent, it could not prevent his instant recognition of the import
of Wagner's dramatic procedures, including the magical euphony of
his orchestration. While there remains of this 'Wagnerianism' only the
normal residue that comes with the acceptance of a great historical
figure, d'Indy's music continued to show in method or suggestion his
admiration and close study of Wagner. That this is no longer the case
is due partly to the natural ripening of individuality consequent upon
maturity, and also to the Schola. With the profound study of liturgic
music and the literature of the sixteenth century, d'Indy has reverted
to ecclesiastic counterpoint as a logical foundation for technique
despite his adaptation of its principles to a free and modernistic
expression. Moreover, he has used plain-chant melodies to an increasing
extent in instrumental or dramatic works. Thus his music has taken on
a spiritual and humanitarian character, analogous in inward motive if
markedly different in outward sentiment from that of his master.
[Illustration: Modern French Composers:]
Emanuel Chabrier Vincent d'Indy
Maurice Ravel Gustave Charpentier
Apart from a relatively small amount of miscellaneous works for
chorus, piano, etc., the greater portion of d'Indy's productivity
can be divided into two general classes, instrumental (orchestral or
chamber music) and dramatic (choral works or operas). Moreover he
turns (seemingly with deliberate purpose) from one pole to another
of the musical field. If the examination of d'Indy's chief works in
chronological order would give the best clue to his evolutionary
progress, the consideration of each type by itself has perhaps greater
clarity.
D'Indy's earliest published instrumental music, the piano quartet op.
7 (1878-88) and the symphonic ballad _La Forêt enchantée_ after Uhland
(1878), show him to be too concerned in mastering the technique of
his art to be preoccupied as to individuality. Of this the quartet
contains more, although not of an assertive order, together with a
sedulous attention to detail. _La Forêt enchantée_ is well planned
and effectively carried out in a spontaneous adolescent manner, with
distinct Teutonic reflections in the general atmosphere. This is all
changed with the 'Wallenstein Trilogy' (1873-81), three symphonic
poems after Schiller's drama. The subject has struck fire in d'Indy's
imagination. _Le Camp de Wallenstein_ is a kaleidoscope of passing
scenes hit off with apt characterization, dramatic touches and no
little orchestral brilliancy. _Max et Thecla_ (the earliest of d'Indy's
orchestral works), performed as _Ouverture des Piccolomini_ in 1874,
remodelled to form the second part of the trilogy, contains all too
obvious traces of ineptitude, side by side with pages of genuine
romantic sensibility. _La Mort de Wallenstein_ is musically the
strongest of the three, and the ablest in technical and expressive
mastery, despite echoes of the _Tarnhelm_ motif in the introduction
and the palpably Franckian canonic treatment of the chief theme. In
inventiveness, dramatic force and markedly skillful orchestration, the
trilogy is prophetic of later attainments.
The _Poème des Montagnes_ op. 15 (1881) for piano deserves mention
because it is one of a number of works concerned with aspects of
nature, a source of evocatory stimulus upon d'Indy in a number of
instances. There are romantic qualities of some grandeur in these
pieces, as well as dramatic vitality in one idea which d'Indy
appropriately used in a later work,[52] but as a whole they do not rank
with his best music. If a poetic mood is apparent in _Saugefleurie_ op.
21 (1884) and a vein of piquant fancy is to be found in the suite op.
24 for trumpet, flutes and strings, both are not unjustly to be ranked
chiefly as steps leading to works of larger significance.
After _Le Chant de la Cloche_, whose performance brought instant
recognition to d'Indy, the 'Symphony on a Mountain Air' op. 25 (1886)
for piano and orchestra is the first instance of d'Indy's deliberate
resolve to follow in the footsteps of Franck as regards formal and
thematic treatment. The basis of the work is a true folk-song[53] which
furnishes through rhythmic and melodic modification the principal
themes of the symphony. Here we find more assertive individuality than
in any instrumental work since the Wallenstein trilogy, a genuine
capacity for logical developments, thoughtful sentiment in the slow
movement, and great animation in the vivid Kermesse which forms the
finale. Similarly the trio op. 29 (1887) for clarinet, violoncello and
piano adopts the Franckian method while permitting an equal freedom of
personal idiom. Again passing over minor works for the piano, a few
choral or vocal pieces which have a contributory rather than a capital
import, and leaving momentarily the opera _Fervaal_, d'Indy's next
striking contribution to instrumental music is the set of symphonic
variations _Istar_, op. 42 (1896). The program of the work, taken from
the Epic of Izdubar, is concerned with the descent of _Istar_ into
the Assyrian abode of the dead to rescue her lover, leaving a garment
or ornament with the guardian of each of seven gates, until naked she
has fulfilled the test and restores her lover. Accordingly d'Indy
has adroitly reversed the variations from the complex to the simple,
to describe the gradual spoliation of the heroine, until the theme
at last emerges in a triumphal unison depicting the nudity of Istar.
The variations are in themselves of great ingenuity, of picturesque
detail and gorgeous orchestral color, but the descriptive purpose is
somewhat marred by the artificialities of technical manipulation. Heard
as absolute music, the intrinsic qualities of the piece delight the
listener and its uncompromising individuality shows the progressive
maturity of the composer.
In a second string quartet, op. 45 (1897), d'Indy's inventive
fertility in evolving not only the chief themes but accompaniment
figures from a motto of four notes, gives further evidence of his
skill along the lines suggested by Franck. Certain episodes and even
entire movements give cause for suspicion that the composer was drawn
to the realization of technical problems rather than that of concrete
expression. The contrapuntal texture of the quartet undoubtedly
proceeds from a source anterior to Franck, that of the counterpoint
of the sixteenth century to which d'Indy has reverted more and more
since his connection with the Schola. But it is combined with a
superstructure of personal and modernistic expression upon classical
and Franckian models in such a way as to achieve a notable beauty. If
the _Chanson et Danses_, op. 50 (1898), for wind instruments, is laid
out in small forms, its singular purity of style and its spontaneous
mastery of a difficult medium make it of greater weight than its scope
would indicate.
D'Indy's instrumental masterpiece, the Symphony in B-flat, op. 57
(1902-3), easily marks the summit of his achievement in this field. If,
from a technical standpoint, it surpasses anything hitherto attained
by its composer in logic and elasticity of form, subtle and compelling
development of themes from its generative phrases, clarity of style
despite its external complexity, its creative inventiveness, richness
of detail, profundity of sentiment and genial orchestration are of
equal magnitude. With the climax of the finale, a chorale derived from
a theme in the introduction to the first movement, d'Indy attains a
comprehensive sublimity that is not only unique in modern French music,
but which is difficult to find surpassed in the contemporary symphonic
literature of any nation. While the piano and violin sonata, op. 59
(1903-4), by reason of its smaller dimensions, can scarcely be compared
with the symphony, the diversity and elasticity of its thematic
development (on three generative phrases) as well as the concrete
beauty of its substance make it one of the most distinguished examples
of its class since that by César Franck.
_Jour d'été à la montagne_, op. 61 (1905), three movements for
orchestra, with an underlying thematic unification of introduction
and conclusion, after prose poems by Roger de Pampelonne, displays a
balance of greater homogeneity between constructive and descriptive
elements than any of d'Indy's programmistic works. The use of
plain-chant themes in the movement _Jour_,[54] with the subtitle
_Après-midi sous les pins_, and again in _Soir_, manifests not only a
felicitous emotional connotation, but an increasing desire to correlate
even the music of externals to spiritual sources.
The poem _Souvenirs_ for orchestra, op. 62 (1906), an elegy on the
death of his wife, is not only profoundly elegiac in sentiment, but
attains an unusual poignancy through the quotation of the theme of the
Beloved from the earlier _Poème des Montagnes_. Both in _Jour d'été
à la montagne_ and in _Souvenirs_ d'Indy employs orchestral effects
ranging from delicate subtlety to extreme force in a manner so entirely
his own as to dispel forever the question of imitative features.
D'Indy's latest instrumental work, a piano sonata, op. 63 (1907), is
more happy in its formal constructive unity than in a euphonious or
natively idiomatic piano style. Its variations are hardly convincing
music despite their technical skill; the scherzo has brilliant pages
but too much of its thematic material is indifferent. The finale
suffers for the same reason up to the climax and close, where the theme
of the variations (first movement) and that of the finale are brought
together with consummate contrapuntal perception.
To summarize, d'Indy as an instrumental composer has with sure and
increasing power fused the methods of Franck, with early contrapuntal
elements, and his own individualistic sentiment into music which
presents the strongest achievement in this direction since that of his
master. If d'Indy is sometimes dry or over-complex, his best works show
a blending of the intellectual with the emotional which constitutes a
persuasive bid for their durability. From a conservative standpoint
it is impossible to imagine an abler unification of elements that
tend to be disparate or antagonistic. As a master of the orchestra
he can still hold his own against ultra-modern developments although
he is relatively conservative in the forces he employs. If his piano
music, including the _Helvetia Waltzes_ (1882), the _Schumanniana_
(1887), the _Tableaux de Voyage_ (1889) and other pieces are, by
comparison with others of his works, insignificant, the cantata _Sainte
Marie-Magdelène_ (1885), the chorus for women's voices _Sur la Mer_
(1888), the imaginative song _Lied Maritime_ (1896) are conspicuous
instances in a somewhat neglected field.
D'Indy's development as a dramatic composer follows a natural path
of evolution. Despite the success of the 'Wallenstein Trilogy,' the
largeness of conception and the pregnant details of _Le Chant de la
Cloche_ op. 18 (1879-83), for solos, chorus and orchestra, text by
the composer after Schiller's poem, although preceded by the dramatic
experiments of _La Chevauchée du Cid_, op. 11 (1879), scene for
baritone, chorus and orchestra; _Clair de Lune_, op. 13 (1872-81),
dramatic study for soprano and orchestra, and _Attendez-moi sous
l'orme_, op. 14 (1882), opéra comique in one act, came as a complete
surprise. Even if d'Indy had obviously applied Wagner's dramatic
procedures, with modifications, to a choral work, the variety and power
of expression, the firm treatment of the whole, and the superb use of a
large orchestra astounded musicians and public alike. If the influence
of both Franck and Wagner could be discerned in the scenes of 'Baptism'
and 'Love,' the assertive personality evident in the scenes 'Vision'
and 'Conflagration' was entirely original, and the dramatic strokes in
'Death,' especially the telling use of portions of the Catholic service
for the dead in vigorous modal harmonization, bespoke a composer of
tragic intensity of imagination.
Another surprise came several years later, in 1897, when _Fervaal_,
op. 40 (1889-95), an opera in three acts, text by the composer, had
its _première_ at the _Théâtre de la Monnaie_ in Brussels. For a
time the numerous and comprehensive Wagnerian obligations obscured
the real qualities of the work, and prevented a judicial opinion.
Resemblances were too many; a legendary subject, a hero who combined
characteristics of Siegfried and Parsifal, a heroine partly compounded
of Brünnhilde and Kundry, the renunciation of love as in the 'Ring'
and many others. D'Indy furthermore boldly adopted the systematic use
of leading-motives, and system of orchestration frankly modelled on
Wagner. But though _Fervaal_ was assimilative in underlying treatment,
it was far less experimental than Chabrier's _Gwendoline_. It greatly
surpassed the older work not only in thorough absorption of technical
method, in continuity and flexibility of style, but in appropriate
dramatic characterization, and in adroit manipulation of the orchestral
forces. Furthermore, in the essence of the subject dealing with the
passing of Pagan mythology, with redemption through suffering, and the
outcome a new religious faith whose key-note was the love of humanity,
d'Indy achieved a dramatic elevation whose moral force indicated an
innovation in French operatic subjects. Its source was ultimately
Teutonic, but its realization was concretely Gallic. Despite the
manifest obligations, _Fervaal_ not only shows a technical and dramatic
skill of a high order, but a tragic note of distinctive individuality.
The symbolic use of the ancient hymn _Pange Lingua_ as typifying the
Christian religion was not only a genuine dramatic inspiration but a
salient instance of effective connotation. With the revival in 1912 at
the Paris _Opéra_, when Wagnerianism was no longer an issue,[55] the
intrinsic qualities of _Fervaal_ were appreciated more on their own
merits. The incidental music to Catulle Mendès' drama _Medée_, op. 47
(1898), showed afresh d'Indy's ability in dramatic characterization, as
well as his faculty for realizing noble and tragic conceptions.
With the opera _L'Étranger_, op. 53 (1898-1901), d'Indy made a notable
progress in dramatic independence at the cost of unequal musical
invention. In the drama (text again by d'Indy) is to be found a
conflict between the realistic and the symbolical which was confusing
and prejudicial to the success of the opera. In addition the symbolism
was not always intelligible or convincing. If there were moral
nobility in the drama in the personality of the unselfish Stranger
whose devotion to humanity was misunderstood or sneered at until he
gave his life in an attempt to relieve ship-wrecked sailors, many of
the scenes were somewhat obscure in import. D'Indy also resorted to
musical symbolism in the use of a liturgic melody from the office of
Holy Thursday, with the text _Ubi caritas et amor, ibi Deus est_ as a
thematic basis for the entire work. While this induces an atmosphere
of indubitable spiritual and moral elevation in the opera, there are
many scenes, especially in the first act, in which d'Indy's dramatic
perceptions seem to have deserted him. At the end of the first act,
and in the final scene more especially, d'Indy has written music
of unparalleled dramatic intensity. In his orchestral style he has
virtually renounced Wagner, and its personal eloquence is exceedingly
powerful.
The evolution of d'Indy as a dramatic composer forms an epitome of
the development of French music along dramatic lines. First slightly
irresolute, then acknowledging almost too sweepingly the glamour
and originality of Wagner, a nationalistic sentiment has led to the
repudiation of his potent influence, and the gradual attainment of
dramatic freedom. In a movement whose most characteristic works are
_Gwendoline_, _Esclarmonde_, _Fervaal_, and _L'Étranger_ we are
compelled to pause at the moment of genuine transition, and defer
the completion of this list until later. Report has it that d'Indy
has finished the composition of another dramatic work, _La Légende
de Saint-Christophe_ (1907-14), which should prove the strongest
instance of his unification of the dramatic and spiritual. D'Indy's
art has tended more and more to concern itself with religious life and
sentiment, and in his unselfish character he is peculiarly qualified to
treat such subjects.
With the consideration of d'Indy as an instrumental and dramatic
composer, one has traversed the most significant of his works. In
addition one must reiterate his services to the Société Nationale,
the years of laborious devotion at the Schola and his not infrequent
appearances as conductor of programs of French music including a
visit to the United States in 1905. Besides, his work as editor and
author completes roughly the sum total of his influence. With the
reconstitutions of Monteverdi's _Orfeo_ and _L'Incoronazione di
Poppea_, revisions of Rameau's _Dardanus_, _Hippolyte et Aricie_
and _Zaïs_, and many other arrangements, the authorship (with the
collaboration of Auguste Sérieyx) of the _Cours de Composition_ in two
volumes (incomplete as yet) compiled from Schola lectures and showing
an extraordinarily comprehensive erudition, the biographies of César
Franck and Beethoven, not to mention a host of articles and addresses
or lectures, one is able to sense the versatility and the solidity of
d'Indy's achievements. It is easy to visualize the debt owed him by
French music. In the first place he has steadily been a _conserver_
from the technical standpoint. Using the sixteenth-century counterpoint
as a point of departure, he has been innovative harmonically even
to the point of prefiguring the whole-tone scale. Using with fluent
adaptability the time-honored canon, fugue, passacaglia, chorale,
variation and sonata forms, he has been faithful fundamentally to
their classic essence, while clothing them in a musical idiom which is
definitely modern. While d'Indy is out of sympathy with atmospheric or
futuristic tendencies in the music of to-day, he is not of an invital
arch-conservative type. As a disciple of Franck he believes in the
'liberty that comes from perfect obedience to the law,' though his
speech is permeated with individual eloquence. No more comprehensively
eminent figure exists in French music to-day. Others may have shown
fresh paths, but they lack the totality of attainment which is
eminently characteristic of d'Indy.
IV
After d'Indy, the other representative pupils of Franck have, with the
exception of Guy Ropartz, had their careers cut short by premature
death or illness. Nevertheless their accomplishment is far from being
negligible, and adds lustre not only to the fame of their master but a
very specific credit to French music.
Of these the most gifted was Ernest Chausson, born at Paris in 1855,
who did not begin the serious study of music until after obtaining his
bachelor's degree at law. Entering Massenet's composition class at
the Paris _Conservatoire_ in 1880, he tried for the prix de Rome in
the following year and failed. He accordingly left the conservatory
and worked arduously with César Franck until 1883. Chausson was a man
of considerable property, who could thus afford to compose. A man
of cultivation and polish, a gracious host and an amiable comrade
in society, he was in secret almost obsessed by melancholy, lack of
self-confidence despite his affectionate, lovable and gentle nature.
He was retiring where his own interests were concerned, made no effort
to push his works, and in consequence was not sought by managers.
Possessing unusual discernment in literature and painting, he had a
fine library, and a distinguished collection of paintings by Delacroix,
Dégas, Lerolle, Besnard and Carrière. Thus like Chabrier before him and
Debussy after him, Chausson's sympathies were keen in more than one
branch of art. Chausson was eager to advance the cause of the Société
Nationale and labored as its secretary for nearly a dozen years. His
music was played at its concerts and elsewhere, and began to make its
way. Chausson was just entering a new creative phase with greater
self-confidence, assertion and technical preparedness. At work on a
string quartet at his summer place Chimay, he went to refresh himself
one afternoon with a bicycle ride, and was found by the roadside, his
head crushed against a wall.
Chausson's music reflects his temperament with mirror-like
responsiveness. With perhaps more native gifts than d'Indy, he lacked
the latter's force of character and his passionate ambition for
self-development. For long tormented by indecision as to whether to
make music his profession or not, his technical facility was uncertain,
and not always equal to the tasks he imposed upon it. Like d'Indy he
was influenced both by Franck and Wagner. But he had a melodic vein
that was his own, a personal harmonic idiom, expressed in music of
poetic and delicately-colored romanticism. Perhaps the most prominent
trait in his music is the indefinably affectionate sensibility of its
emotion.
Chausson began as a composer of chamber music and songs. He soon
entered the orchestral field with a prelude 'The Death of Coelio,'
the symphonic poem _Viviane_, op. 5 (1882), and _Solitude dans les
bois_ (1886), later destroyed. If _Viviane_ shows the insecure hand of
the apprentice, its technical insecurity is more than counterbalanced
by the exquisite poetry and romance which breathe from its pages.
Chausson's orchestral masterpiece is his symphony in B-flat, op. 20
(1890), whose conception is noble and dignified, whose themes are
mature and full of sentiment, and which has many eloquent pages. Though
the work is deficient in rhythmic variety and flexibility of phrase,
its underlying substance is too elevated to permit depreciation. Its
orchestral style, despite Wagnerian obligations, shows a distinguished
coloristic sense even in comparison with the unusual orchestral style
of d'Indy. Despite certain defects, a _Concert_ for piano, violin
and string quartet, op. 21 (1890-91), a _Poème_, op. 25 (1896), for
violin and orchestra, frequently played by Ysaye, a piano quartet, op.
30 (1897), and the unfinished string quartet bespeak the talent and
promise of achievement which was never to be fulfilled. In the dramatic
field, Chausson composed incidental music for performances at Bouchor's
Marionette theatre of Shakespeare's _Tempest_, and Bouchor's _Legend of
St. Cecilia_, a lyric drama _Hélène_ (unpublished) and an opera, _Le
Roi Arthus_ (text by himself), performed at Brussels in the _Théâtre de
la Monnaie_ in 1903. That Chausson had dramatic instinct is especially
evident in _Le Roi Arthus_, but there is immaturity in dramatic
technique as well as a too lyrical treatment which detracts from the
romantic atmosphere and imaginative conception of the whole. Among the
songs, 'The Caravan,' 'Poem of Love' and 'The Sea' and the well-nigh
perfect _Chanson perpétuelle_ for voice and orchestra show Chausson's
lyric gift at its best.
Chausson remains a figure of importance, even if much of his work
suggests the possibilities of the future rather than claims a final
judgment on its own account. _Viviane_, the _Poème_ for violin, the
piano quartet, the _Chanson perpétuelle_ and above all the Symphony
will survive their technical flaws on account of their individualistic
expression of noble thoughts and fastidiously poetic emotion.
Henri Duparc, born at Paris in 1848, studied law as did d'Indy and
Chausson. One of the earliest pupils of César Franck, he was also one
of the first Frenchmen to recognize Wagner, and made journeys with
Chabrier and d'Indy to hear his works in Germany. From 1869, Duparc
composed piano pieces, songs, chamber music and works for orchestra.
A merciless critic of his own music, he has destroyed several works,
including a sonata for violoncello and piano, and two orchestral
studies. Since 1885 Duparc's career as a composer has been closed owing
to persistent ill health. He is known by a symphonic poem _Lénore_
(1875) after the ballad by Bürger, and something more than a dozen
songs. The symphonic poem is interesting if not remarkable, but the
songs reveal the born lyricist. Through thirty years of silence,
the vitality of some of these persists, especially _L'Invitation au
voyage_, _Ecstase_, _Lamento_, and _Phydilé_, as possessing distinctive
qualities which place them in the front rank of French lyrics.
Guillaume Lekeu (1870-94), another tragically unfulfilled artist of
Belgian descent, played the violin at fourteen, studied the music of
Bach, Beethoven and Wagner by himself, and at the age of nineteen had
an orchestral piece, _Le Chant de triomphale délivrance_, performed
at Verviers, 'without having had a single lesson in composition.'[56]
From 1888 he lived in Paris, where he obtained his bachelor's degree
in philosophy. He became a friend of the poet Mallarmé, at whose
gatherings of poets, painters and philosophers Claude Debussy
found such illuminating inspiration. Lekeu completed the study of
harmony with Gaston Vallin, a pupil of Franck, and soon came under
the influence of Franck himself. After Franck's death, he continued
composition lessons with d'Indy. D'Indy urged Lekeu, as a native
Belgian, to compete for the Belgian _prix de Rome_. In 1891 he obtained
the second prize with a cantata _Andromède_. Its performance later
was so successful as to question the decision of the judges. In 1892
Lekeu wrote the sonata for piano and violin, which was frequently
played by Ysaye. In the same year he finished a _Fantasie symphonique_
on two folk-tunes of Angers. While working at a piano quartet, Lekeu
died suddenly in 1894 from a relapse after typhoid fever. Despite the
contrary indications in his music, Lekeu was of a gay, outgoing nature,
full of spontaneity and exuberance.
Besides the works mentioned he left songs, a piano sonata, chamber
music and orchestral pieces, among them symphonic studies on 'Hamlet'
and 'Faust' (second part). It is perhaps inevitable that much of his
music should be immature, but the sonata for piano and violin and the
piano quartet show indisputable gifts of a very high order, in which
melodic inspiration, frank harmonic experiments (some of them more
felicitous than others), an original and thoughtful kind of beauty, and
strong delineation of tragic moods are the most salient qualities.
Alexis de Castillon (1838-73) showed early aptitude for music, but was
educated for the army in deference to the wishes of his family. After
leaving the military school of Saint-Cyr, he became a cavalry officer.
But the impulse toward music was too strong and after several years he
resigned from the army. He had studied music in a desultory fashion
before, and now turned to Victor Massé (the composer of a popular
operetta, _Les Noces de Jeannette_). From him he learned little or
nothing. In 1868 Duparc introduced de Castillon to César Franck, who
gladly received him as a pupil. De Castillon served valiantly during
the Franco-Prussian war and then returned to his chosen profession
only to die two years later, leaving piano pieces, songs, some half
a dozen chamber works including the piano and violin sonata op. 6, a
concerto for piano, orchestral pieces, and a setting of the 84th Psalm.
By reason of the vicissitudes of his life, de Castillon was never able
to do justice to his gifts. The sonata, a string quartet, and a piano
quartet, op. 7, show a native predisposition for chamber music, which
assuredly would have ripened had the composer's life been spared.
At his funeral were assembled Bizet, Franck, Lalo, Duparc, d'Indy,
Massenet, Saint-Saëns, and others who had 'loved the artist and the
man.'[57] Impressed by this assemblage one of de Castillon's relatives
remarked: 'Then he really had talent!'[58]
Charles Bordes (1865-1905) should receive some mention, not only
for his piano pieces, songs, sacred music, and orchestral works,
but for innumerable transcriptions and arrangements of folk-songs,
cantatas, vocal pieces by various French composers, and his anthology
of religious music of the fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries.
Furthermore his organization of the _Chanteurs de Saint Gervais_ gave a
decided impulse toward the revival of sacred music, and his labors at
the _Schola_ in Paris and the branch established at Montpellier give
evidence of his untiring devotion to the cause of art.
In contrast to the pathetic incompleteness of the careers of Chausson,
Lekeu, de Castillon, and Bordes, Guy Ropartz has been enabled by reason
of his long activity to round out his talent. Joseph-Guy-Marie Ropartz
was born at Guincamp in the north of France in 1864. After completing
his general education he graduated from the law school at Rennes and
was admitted to the bar. Then, like d'Indy and Chausson, he gave up law
for music, entered the Paris _Conservatoire_, where he studied with
Dubois and Massenet. In 1887 he left the _Conservatoire_ to be a pupil
of Franck. In 1894 he became director of the conservatory at Nancy, a
position which he still holds.
Ropartz has been an industrious composer, and among his works are
incidental music for four dramas, including Pierre Loti's and Louis
Tiercelius' drama _Pêcheur d'Islande_; a music drama, _Le Pays_;
four symphonies; a fantasia; a symphonic study, _La Chasse du Prince
Arthur_; several suites for orchestra; two string quartets; a sonata
for violoncello and piano, and one for violin and piano; many songs and
vocal pieces including a setting of the 137th Psalm.
Following the principles of Franck, he tends toward cyclical forms
on generative themes, and in addition employs Breton folk-songs
in orchestral and dramatic works. The symphony in C major, by its
treatment of a generative phrase, emphasizes his fidelity to his
master, but despite effective and transparent orchestration the work is
lacking in strong individuality and in inherent logic and continuity
in development. The sonatas for violin and for violoncello with piano
display adequate workmanship and conception of style but do not possess
concrete musical persuasiveness. Ropartz appears in the most favorable
light when his music gives free utterance to nationalistic sentiment
and 'local color.' His Breton suite and the Fantasia have a rustic
piquancy and rhythmic verve which give evidence of sincere conviction.
_Le Pays_ is said by no less an authority than Professor Henri
Lichtenberger to belong to 'the little group of works which, like
_Pelléas et Mélisande_ of Debussy, _Ariane et Barbe-bleue_ of Dukas,
_Le Cœur du Moulin_ of Déodat de Séverac, _L'Heure espagnole_ of
Ravel, have distinct value and significance in the evolution of our
French art.'[59] But a study of the music does not entirely bear
this out. Ropartz shows in this music drama an obvious gift for the
stage, and his music clearly heightens the dramatic situations. In its
freedom from outside influence it undoubtedly possesses historical
significance, but in compelling originality it does not maintain the
level of the works mentioned above.
The foregoing pupils of Franck are those who have best illustrated the
didactic standpoint of their revered master, both as regards technical
treatment and uncompromising self-expression. Of these d'Indy is
incomparably the most distinguished by virtue of the continuity of his
development, the intrinsic message of his music, and his remarkable
faculty for organization in educative propaganda. If Chausson,
Lekeu, and Bordes were prevented from reaping the just rewards to
which their gifts entitled them, they attained not only enough for
self-justification but have left a definite imprint on the course of
modern French music.
In conclusion, though Franck's pupils are not iconoclastic, though
they seem ultra-reactionary in some respects, their united efforts
have preserved intact the traditions of one of the noblest figures in
French music, and in their works is to be found music of such lofty
conception, admirable technical execution, and fearless expression of
personality as to make the task of disparagement futile and ungrateful.
Moreover, this influence has not ceased with the actual pupils of
Franck. The names and works of Magnard,[60] Roussel, de Séverac and
Samazeuilh attest the fact that the Franckian tradition is still a
living force.
While Emmanuel Chabrier and Gabriel Fauré showed the way for new
vitality in musical expression and the pupils of Franck demonstrated
that the resources of conservatism were not yet exhausted, new
movements were also on foot which may be classified as belonging to
the 'impressionistic or atmospheric' school. A consideration of this
movement, together with some unclassifiable figures and an indication
of the work of some younger men, will follow in the next chapter.
E. B. H.
FOOTNOTES:
[44] Vincent d'Indy: _César Franck_, pp. 82 _et seq._
[45] Romain Rolland: _Musiciens d'aujourd'hui_, pp. 230 _et seq._
[46] Octave Séré: _Musiciens français d'aujourd'hui_, p. 83.
[47] Ibid., p. 83.
[48] S. I. M., April 15, 1911.
[49] Vincent d'Indy: _César Franck_.
[50] Autobiographical Sketch in 'The Music-Lover's Calendar,' Boston,
1905.
[51] Charles Bordes founded the _Chanteurs de St. Gervaise_ in 1892 to
perform sixteenth-century music, and more worthy later choral works.
Including the study of plain-chant, better standards in modern church
music, and higher requirements in organists, this association became
the _Schola Cantorum_ in 1894. As a school it was incorporated as above.
[52] The theme of the Beloved, employed in the orchestral poem
_Souvenirs_, op. 62.
[53] From the Cévennes region.
[54] Melody employed in the service proper to the Feast of the
Assumption.
[55] '_On accuse les compositeurs de debussysme, on ne leur reproche
plus d'être wagnériens._'--Preface to 2nd edition, _Fervaal, Étude
thématique_, by Pierre de Bréville and Henri Laubers Villars.
[56] Octave Séré: _Musiciens français d'aujourd'hui_, p. 272.
[57] Louis Gallet: _Notes d'un Librettist_, quoted by Octave Séré in
_Musiciens français d'aujourd'hui_, p. 73.
[58] Ibid.
[59] Lowell Institute Lecture, Jan. 7, 1915. Reported in the 'Boston
Transcript.'
[60] Magnard died in September, 1914, somewhat quixotically defending
his cause against the Germans.