Musicians of To-Day Part 9

And so we find that M. Saint-Saens has taken part in the vigorous attempt of modern German symphony writers to bring into music some of the power of the other arts: poetry, painting, philosophy, romance, drama--the whole of life. But what a gulf divides them and him! A gulf made up, not only of diversities of style, but of the difference between two races and two worlds. Beside the frenzied outpourings of Richard Strauss, who flounders uncertainly between mud and debris and genius, the Latin art of Saint-Saens rises up calm and ironical. His delicacy of touch, his careful moderation, his happy grace, "which enters the soul by a thousand little paths,"[137] bring with them the pleasures of beautiful speech and honest thought; and we cannot but feel their charm.

Compared with the restless and troubled art of to-day, his music strikes us by its calm, its tranquil harmonies, its velvety modulations, its crystal clearness, its smooth and flowing style, and an elegance that cannot be put into words. Even his cla.s.sic coldness does us good by its reaction against the exaggerations, sincere as they are, of the new school. At times one feels oneself carried back to Mendelssohn, even to Spontini and the school of Gluck. One seems to be travelling in a country that one knows and loves; and yet in M. Saint-Saens' works one does not find any direct resemblance to the works of other composers; for with no one are reminiscences rarer than with this master who carries all the old masters in his mind--it is his spirit that is akin to theirs. And that is the secret of his personality and his value to us; he brings to our artistic unrest a little of the light and sweetness of other times. His compositions are like fragments of another world.

[Footnote 136: _Harmonie et Melodie_.]

[Footnote 137: C. Saint-Saens, _Portraits et Souvenirs_.]

"From time to time," he said, in speaking of _Don Giovanni_, "in the sacred earth of h.e.l.lene we find a fragment, an arm, the debris of a torso, scratched and damaged by the ravages of time; it is only the shadow of the G.o.d that the sculptor's chisel once created; but the charm is somehow still there, the sublime style is radiant in spite of everything."[138]

And so with this music. It is sometimes a little pale, a little too restrained; but in a phrase, in a few harmonies, there will shine out a clear vision of the past.

[Footnote 138: _Portraits et Souvenirs_.]

VINCENT D'INDY

"I consider that criticism is useless, I would even say that it is harmful.... Criticism generally means the opinion some man or other holds about another person's work. How can that opinion help forward the growth of art? It is interesting to know the ideas, even the erroneous ideas, of geniuses and men of great talent, such as Goethe, Schumann, Wagner, Sainte-Beuve, and Michelet, when they wish to indulge in criticism; but it is of no interest at all to know whether Mr. So-and-so likes, or does not like, such-and-such dramatic or musical work."[139]

So writes M. Vincent d'Indy.

After such an expression of opinion one imagines that a critic ought to feel some embarra.s.sment in writing about M. Vincent d'Indy. And I myself ought to be the more concerned in the matter, for in the number of the review where the above was written the only other opinions expressed with equal conviction belonged to the author of this book. There is only one thing to be done--to copy M. d'Indy's example; for that forsworn enemy of criticism is himself a keen critic.

[Footnote 139: _Revue d'Art dramatique_, 5 February, 1899.]

It is not altogether on M. d'Indy's musical gifts that I want to dwell.

It is known that in Europe to-day he is one of the masters of dramatic musical expression, of orchestral colouring, and of the science of style. But that is not the end of his attainments; he has artistic originality, which springs from something deeper still. When an artist has some worth, you will find it not only in his work but in his being.

So we will endeavour to explore M. d'Indy's being.

M. d'Indy's personality is not a mysterious one. On the contrary, it is open and clear as daylight; and we see this in his musical work, in his artistic activities, and in his writings. To his own writings we may apply the exception of his rule about criticism in favour of a small number of men whose thoughts are interesting even when they are erroneous. It would be a pity indeed not to know M. d'Indy's thoughts--even the erroneous ones; for they let us catch a glimpse, not only of the ideas of an eminent artist, but of certain surprising characteristics of the thought of our time. M. d'Indy has closely studied the history of his art; but the chief interest of his writings lies rather in their unconscious expression of the spirit of modern art than in what they tell us about the past.

M. d'Indy is not a man hedged in by the boundaries of his art; his mind is open and well fertilised. Musicians nowadays are no longer entirely absorbed in their notes, but let their minds go out to other interests.

And it is not one of the least interesting phenomena of French music to-day that gives us these learned and thoughtful composers, who are conscious of what they create, and bring to their art a keen critical faculty, like that of M. Saint-Saens, M. Dukas, or M. d'Indy. From M.

d'Indy we have had scholarly editions of Rameau, Destouches, and Salomon de Rossi. Even in the middle of rehearsals of _L'etranger_ at Brussels he was working at a reconstruction of Monteverde's _Orfeo_. He has published selections of folk-songs with critical notes, essays on Beethoven's predecessors, a history of Musical Composition, and debates and lectures. This fine intellectual culture is not, however, the most remarkable of M. d'Indy's characteristics, though it may have been the most remarked. Other musicians share this culture with him; and his real distinction lies in his moral and almost religious qualities, and it is this side of him that gives him an unusual interest for us among other contemporary artists.

"Maneant in vobis Fides, Spes, Caritas.

Tria haec: major autem horum est Caritas.

"An artist must have at least Faith, faith in G.o.d and faith in his art; for it is Faith that disposes him to _learn_, and by his learning to raise himself higher and higher on the ladder of Being, up to his goal, which is G.o.d.

"An artist should practise Hope; for he can expect nothing from the present; he knows that his mission is to _serve_, and to give his work for the life and teaching of the generations that shall come after him.

"An artist should be inspired by a splendid Charity--'the greatest of these.' To _love_ should be his aim in life; for the moving principle of all creation is divine and charitable Love."

Who speaks like this? Is it the monk Denys in his cell at Mount Athos?

Or Cennini, who spread the pious teaching of the Giotteschi? Or one of the old painters of Sienna, who in their profession of faith called themselves "by the grace of G.o.d, those who manifest marvellous things to common and illiterate men, by the virtue of the holy faith, and to its glory"?

No; it was the director of the _Schola Cantorum_, addressing the students in an inaugural speech, or giving them a lecture on Composition.[140]

[Footnote 140: Vincent d'Indy: _Cours de Composition musicale_, Book I, drawn up from notes taken in Composition cla.s.ses at the _Schola Cantorum_, 1897-1898, p. 16 (Durand, 1902). See also the inaugural speech given at the school, and published by the _Tribune de Saint-Gervais_, November, 1900.]

We must consider a little this singular book, where a living science and a Gothic spirit are closely intermingled (I use the word "Gothic" in its best sense; I know it is the highest praise one can give M. d'Indy).

This work has not received the attention it deserves. It is a record of the spirit of contemporary art; and if it stands rather apart from other writings, it should not be allowed to pa.s.s unnoticed on that account.

In this book, Faith is shown to be everything--the beginning and the end. We learn how it fans the flame of genius, nourishes thought, directs work, and governs even the modulations and the style of a musician. There is a pa.s.sage in it that one would think was of the thirteenth century; it is curious, but not without dignity:

"One should have an aim in the progressive march of modulations, as one has in the different stages of life. The reason, instincts, and faith that guide a man in the troubles of his life also guide the musician in his choice of modulations. Thus useless and contradictory modulations, an undecided balance between light and shade, produce a painful and confusing impression on the hearer, comparable to that which a poor human being inspires when he is feeble and inconsistent, buffeted between the East and the West in the course of his unhappy life, without an aim and without belief."[141]

[Footnote 141: Vincent d'Indy, _Cours de Composition musicale_, p. 132.]

This book seems to be of the Middle Ages by reason of a sort of scholastic spirit of abstraction and cla.s.sification.

"In artistic creation, seven faculties are called into play by the soul: the Imagination, the Affections, the Understanding, the Intelligence, the Memory, the Will, and the Conscience."[142]

[Footnote 142: _Id._, _ibid._, p. 13.]

And again its mediaeval spirit is shown by an extraordinary symbolism, which discovers in everything (as far as I understand it) the imprint of divine mysteries, and the mark of G.o.d in Three Persons in such things as the beating of the heart and ternary rhythms--"an admirable application of the principle of the Unity of the Trinity"![143]

From these remote times comes also M. d'Indy's method of writing history, not by tracing facts back to laws, but by deducing, on the contrary, facts from certain great general ideas, which have once been admitted, but not proved by frequent recurrence, such as: "The origin of art is in religion"[144]--a fact which is anything but certain. From this reasoning it follows that folk-songs are derived from Gregorian chants, and not the Gregorian chants from the folk-songs--as I would sooner believe. The history of art may thus become a sort of history of the world in moral achievement. One could divide it into two parts: the world before the coming of Pride, and after it.

"Subdued by the Christian faith, that formidable enemy of man, Pride, rarely showed itself in the soul of an artist in the Middle Ages. But with the weakening of religious belief, with the spirit of the Reformation applying itself almost at the same time to every branch of human learning, we see Pride reappear, and watch its veritable Renaissance."[145]

[Footnote 143: _Id., ibid._, p. 25. In the thirteenth century, Philippe de Vitry, Bishop of Meaux, called triple time "perfect," because "it hath its name from the Trinity, that is to say, from the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, in whom is divine perfection."]

[Footnote 144: _Id., ibid._, pp. 66, 83, and _pa.s.sim_.]

[Footnote 145: _Id., ibid._]

Finally, this Gothic spirit shows itself--in a less original way, it is true--in M. d'Indy's religious antipathies, which, in spite of the author's goodness of heart and great personal tolerance, constantly break out against the two faiths that are rivals to his own; and to them he attributes all the faults of art and all the vices of humanity. Each has its offence. Protestantism is made responsible for the extremes of individualism;[146] and Judaism, for the absurdities of its customs and the weakness of its moral sense.[147] I do not know which of the two is the more soundly belaboured; the second has the privilege of being so, not only in writing, but in pictures.[148] The worst of it is, these antipathies are apt to spoil the fairness of M. d'Indy's artistic judgment. It goes without saying that the Jewish musicians are treated with scant consideration; and even the great Protestant musicians, giants in their art, do not escape rebuke. If Goudimel is mentioned, it is because he was Palestrina's master, and his achievement of "turning the Calvinist psalms into chorales" is dismissed as being of little importance.[149]

[Footnote 146: "Make war against Particularism, that unwholesome fruit of the Protestant heresy!" (Speech to the _Schola_, taken from the _Tribune de Saint-Gervais_, November, 1900.)]

[Footnote 147: At least Judaism has the honour of giving its name to a whole period of art, the "Judaic period." "The modern style is the last phase of the Judaic school...." etc.]

[Footnote 148: In the _Cours de Composition musicale_ M. d'Indy speaks of "the admirable initial T in the _Rouleau mortuaire_ of Saint-Vital (twelfth century), which represents Satan vomiting two Jews ... an expressive and symbolic work of art, if ever there was one." I should not mention this but for the fact that there are only two ill.u.s.trations in the whole book.]

[Footnote 149: _Cours de Composition musicale_, p. 160.]

Handel's oratorios are spoken of as "chilling, and, frankly speaking, tedious."[150] Bach himself escapes with this qualification: "If he is great, it is not because of, but in spite of the dogmatic and parching spirit of the Reformation."[151]

I will not try to play the part of judge; for a man is sufficiently judged by his own writings. And, after all, it is rather interesting to meet people who are sincere and not afraid to speak their minds. I will admit that I rather enjoy--a little perversely, perhaps--some of these extreme opinions, where the writer's personality stands strongly revealed.

[Footnote 150: _L'Oratorio moderne_ (_Tribune de Saint-Gervais_, March, 1899).]

[Footnote 151: _Ibid._ As much as to say he was a Catholic without knowing it. And that is what a friend of the _Schola_, M. Edgar Tinel, declares: "Bach is a truly Christian artist and, without doubt, _a Protestant by mistake_, since in his immortal _Credo_ he confesses his faith in one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church" (_Tribune de Saint-Gervais_, August-September, 1902). M. Edgar Tinel was, as you know, one of the princ.i.p.al masters of Belgian oratorio.]

So the old Gothic spirit still lives among us, and informs the mind of one of our best-known artists, and also, without doubt, the minds of hundreds of those who listen to him and admire him. M. Louis Laloy has shown the persistence of certain forms of plain-song in M. Debussy's _Pelleas_; and in a dim sense of far-away kinship he finds the cause of the mysterious charm that such music holds for some of us.[152] This learned paradox is possible. Why not? The mixtures of race and the vicissitudes of history have given us so full and complex a soul that we may very well find its beginnings there, if it pleases us--or the beginnings of quite other things. Of beginnings there is no end; the choice is quite embarra.s.sing, and I imagine one's inclination has as much to do with the matter as one's temperament.