CHAPTER X

DEBUSSY AND THE ULTRA-MODERNISTS

Impressionism in Music--Claude Debussy, the pioneer of the 'atmospheric' school; his career, his works and his influence--Maurice Ravel, his life and work--Alfred Bruneau; Gustave Charpentier--Paul Dukas--Miscellany; Albert Roussel and Florent Schmitt.

The trend of ultra-modern French music has been so swift in its development that the significant episodes crowd upon one another's heels when they do not stride along side by side. Within a year or two after the death of César Franck and Edouard Lalo, while Saint-Saëns was in the full tide of his ceaseless productivity, while Massenet, then famed as the composer of _Manon_, was shortly to meditate his _Thaïs_ and _La Navarraise_, while the irrepressible Chabrier was beginning to pay the toll of his strenuous activity, while Fauré's songs had already won recognition for their subtle mixtures of sensuousness and mysticism, while d'Indy and Chausson were evolving their individuality on the lines laid down by their revered master, there arose strikingly new principles of musical expression, involving a new æsthetic standpoint, an enlargement of harmonic resource, supplying a new and vital idiom which is perhaps the most characteristically Gallic of the ultra-modern movements centred in Paris. These principles have crystallized into the impressionistic or 'atmospheric' school, whose rise during the past fifteen or twenty years has been little short of meteoric.

The subject of parallelism between the arts with a definite interacting influence is a fertile one for discussion. While but little space can be devoted here to enlargement upon this topic, it may be observed that with the advance of culture the intervening time before one art reacts upon another becomes shorter. If the Renaissance was relatively slow in affecting music, the revolutionary outbreaks of 1830 and 1848 were more nearly synchronous, while in the case of realism and impressionism, the resulting confluence of principles was nearly simultaneous. Fortunately the basic methods of impressionism in painting and poetry are so well understood that no definition of their purposes is needful beyond a reminder that they aim to subordinate detail in favor of the effect as a whole. In music impressionism is obtained by procedures analogous if markedly dissimilar from those employed in painting. The results are alike in that both arts have gained enormously in scope of subject as well as in greater brilliancy, elusive poetry and human significance in their treatment.

I

It is not too much to say that Claude Debussy may be considered as the real originator of impressionism in music, although he did not begin to compose in this manner. But Debussy's success has brought forth a host of imitators in France, Russia, England, and even the United States, while so essentially Teutonic a composer as Max Reger has passed through a Debussian phase. Another composer who has contributed to the development of impressionistic method is Maurice Ravel, and he undoubtedly has derived much from Debussy. At the same time he displays many original characteristics which have nothing in common with Debussy, and hence he cannot be dismissed as a mere echo of the older composer. Impressionism has become so essentially a part of ultra-modern French musical evolution as to merit a clear exposition of its claims and the achievements of its founders.

Claude-Achille Debussy was born at St. Germain-en-Laye, not far from Paris, August 22, 1862. His father was ambitious to make a sailor of his son, but a certain Mme. Mautet, whose son was a brother-in-law of Paul Verlaine, herself a pupil of Chopin, was so impressed by the boy's piano playing that she prepared him for entrance into the Paris Conservatory. He obtained medals in solfeggio and piano playing, but was less fortunate in the harmony class. In the class of Émile Durand the study of harmony resolved itself into an effort to discover the 'author's harmony' for a given bass or soprano, hampered by rules 'as arbitrary as those of bridge.'[61] Debussy also entered Franck's organ class at the Conservatory, but here also he was at odds with the master, whose urgings 'modulate, modulate!' during the pupil's improvizations seemed too often without point. In 1879 Debussy journeyed to Russia with Mme. Metch, the wife of a Russian railway constructor, in the capacity of domestic pianist. He made slight acquaintance with Balakireff, Borodine, and Rimsky-Korsakoff, but never came across Moussorgsky, who was destined later to exercise so marked an influence upon his dramatic methods. The dominant expression which he brought back from Russia was that of the fantastic gypsy music, whose rhapsodic and improvisatory character addressed itself readily to his fancy. At last Debussy entered the composition class of Ernest Guiraud, and here his ability quickly asserted itself. After a mention in counterpoint and fugue in 1882, he obtained a second _prix de Rome_ in 1885, and the first prize in the year following with the cantata 'The Prodigal Son,' entitling him to study in Rome at governmental expense.

From Rome Debussy sent back to the Institute, as required, a portion of a setting of Heine's lyrical drama _Almanzor_, a suite for women's voices and orchestra, 'Spring,' recently published in a revision for orchestra alone; a setting of Rossetti's 'The Blessed Damozel' for voices and orchestra (finished after his return to Paris), and a fantasy for piano and orchestra which has never been published or performed.

On his return to Paris Debussy made the acquaintance of Moussorgsky's _Boris Godounoff_ in the first edition, before the revisions and alterations made by Rimsky-Korsakoff. This work was an immense revelation of the possibilities of a simple yet poignant dramatic style, and undoubtedly was fraught with suggestion to the future composer of _Pelléas_. A visit to Bayreuth in 1889, where he heard _Tristan_, _Parsifal_, and the _Meistersinger_, showed Wagner in a new light to Debussy. But on repeating the trip in the following year he returned disillusionized and henceforth Wagner ceased to exert any influence whatever upon him. For some time at this period Debussy was generously aided by the publisher Georges Hartmann, who had likewise encouraged de Castillon and Massenet. During these years Debussy composed many piano pieces and songs, among them the _Arabesques_ (1888), the _Ballade_, _Danse_, _Mazurka_, _Reverie_, _Nocturne_, and the _Suite Bergamasque_, all dating from 1890. These piano pieces exhibit Debussy as a frankly melodic composer of indubitable refinement and imagination, in a vein not far removed from that of Massenet, although possessing more distinction and poetic sentiment. Among the songs the early _Nuit d'étoiles_ (1876), _Fleur des blés_ (1878), and _Beau Soir_ (1878) are experimental, the last of the three being the most interesting. The 'Three Melodies' (1880), containing the songs _La Belle au bois dormant_, _Voici que le Printemps_, and _Paysage sentimental_, the _Ariettes oubliées_ (1888, but revised later) show a marked progress in concreteness of mood and harmonic subtlety. Three songs (1890) on texts by Verlaine, _L'Échelonnement des haies_, _La Mer est plus belle_, and _Le Son du Cor s'afflige_, and the _Cinq poëmes de Baudelaire_ (1890), show a further evolution of lyric delineation. If the latter are unequal (_Le Balcon_ and _Le jet d'eau_ are the most vital) they at least demonstrate an æsthetic ferment toward the later Debussy. _Mandoline_ (also 1890) is also a direct premonition of a maturer style. In confirmation of this steady evolution one must recall that side by side with the palpable influence of Massenet in the cantata 'The Prodigal Son' (especially in the prelude) and in the second movement of the suite 'Spring' there were likewise harmonic individualities and expressive sentiments in the first movement of the suite, and in the delicately pre-Raphaelitic 'Blessed Damozel' which presage the developments to come.

However, the direct stimulus which guided Debussy in his search for personal enfranchisement did not come from musical sources,[62] but from association with poets, literary critics, and painters. From 1885 onwards,[63] the symbolist poets Gustave Kahn, Pierre Louys, Francis Vielé-Griffin, Stuart Merrill, Paul Verlaine, Henri de Regnier, the painter Whistler, and many others were in the habit of meeting at the house of Stéphane Mallarmé, the symbolist poet, for discussion on a variety of æsthetic topics. The _Salon de la Rose-Croix_, formed by French painters as an outcome of pre-Raphaelite influence, grew out of these meetings. Verlaine and Mallarmé had founded the 'Wagnerian Review' as a medium for exposition of the essential unity of all the arts. As a result of these critical inquiries and debates, Debussy was struck with the possibility of attempting to transfer impressionistic and symbolistic theories into the domain of music.

The first concrete instance of a deliberate embodiment of impressionistic method is to be found in the exquisite 'Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun' (1882), founded on the poem by Mallarmé. Here Debussy succeeded admirably in translating the vague symbolism of the poem into music of languorous mood and ineffably delicate poetry. This brief piece, novel and striking in both harmonic and expressive idiom, marks a departure into a field of fertile consequence and far-reaching import both intrinsically and historically.

It was in the summer of 1892, also, that Debussy quite by chance came across Maeterlinck's play _Pelléas et Mélisande_. Both the intensely human elements in the drama and its sensitive symbolism made a strong appeal to Debussy's newly awakened æsthetic instincts and, after obtaining permission to utilize the play as an opera text, he at once set to work upon it. For ten years Debussy labored upon _Pelléas_ with a patient striving to realize in music its humanitarian sentiment, its creative poetry and its tragedy. During these years of gradual distillation of thought he attained slowly but surely the inimitable style of his maturity. But in the meantime he composed also in various other fields.

Already the songs, _Fêtes galantes_ (1892), on Verlaine's poems showed in their delicately impressionistic introspection that the 'Afternoon of a Faun' was no casual experiment. Similarly, the _Proses Lyriques_ (1893), although unequal, exhibit clearly, especially in the songs _De Rêve_ and _De Grève_, a formulation of the whole-tone idiom, which was later to become a characteristic feature of Debussy's style. A string quartet (also 1893) was, by virtue of its inevitable restriction, a momentary abandonment of the impressionistic ideal, but within these limitations Debussy achieved an astonishing individuality, charm of mood, and clearcut workmanship, particularly in the thoughtful, slow movement and the piquant scherzo. In 1898 he returned to the impressionistic vein with three _Chansons de Bilitis_ from the like-named volume of poems by Pierre Louys. The naïveté, humor, and penetrating poetry of these lyrics were akin to the imaginative vein of the _Fêtes galantes_.

In the following year Debussy gave a larger affirmation of his impressionistic creed with the Nocturnes for orchestra entitled 'Clouds,' 'Festivals,' and 'Sirens' (the latter with a chorus of women's voices). These pieces, although avowedly programmistic, do not attempt realistic tone-painting, but aim rather to suggest impressionistic moods growing out of their titles. The slow procession of clouds, the dazzling intermingling of groups of revellers, the elusive seduction of imaginary sirens are pictured with an atmospheric verity that far transcends the possibilities of realistic standpoint. Musically the Nocturnes are distinguished by their intrinsic potency of expression, their basic formal coherence and logic of development, their concreteness of mood, and their picturesqueness of detail. The use of a chorus of women's voices, vocalizing without text, a feature already employed in 'Spring,' was not original to Debussy, for Berlioz had already employed it in his highly dramatic but little known Funeral March for the last scene of 'Hamlet' (1848). But Debussy's highly coloristic and ingenious application of the medium greatly enhances the pervasive poetry of this Nocturne, and transforms it into a virtual novelty. Not the least interesting harmonic consideration of this piece is the use, with some definite system, of the whole-tone scale, which Debussy later exploited so remarkably, and of which up to this time only transient suggestions had appeared.

During his long contemplative absorption in _Pelléas_ Debussy had not entirely neglected composition for the piano. A _Marche écossaise_ 'on a popular theme' ('The Earl of Ross's March') for four hands (1891, orchestrated in 1908) is piquant and vivacious without being

## particularly characteristic. A 'Little Suite' for the same combination

(1894), if somewhat slight musically, is pleasing for its clarity and simple directness. In 1901, however, Debussy showed a far more definite originality, both pianistically and harmonically, in a set of three pieces entitled _Pour le Piano_, with the subtitles 'Prelude,' 'Sarabande' and 'Toccata.' If the prelude suggests something of the style of Bach, if the Sarabande is to a certain extent a modernization of the gravity of Rameau, and the toccata bears a resemblance in its fiery impulsiveness to Domenico Scarlatti, these pieces are none the less positively characteristic of Debussy in their fundamentals. The frank use of the whole-tone scale in the prelude, the harmonic boldness of the sarabande with its sequences of sevenths, and the ingenious piano figures in the toccata are the external evidences of a basically individual conception. If these pieces do not display the impressionism that is indigenous to the later Debussy, they represent a transition stage of far from negligible interest.

With the performances in 1902 of _Pelléas et Mélisande_ at the Opéra Comique Debussy attained an immediate and definite renown. There was abundance of opposition, disparagement, and ill-natured criticism, but the work was too obviously significant to be downed by it. To begin with it was epoch-making in the annals of French dramatic art in that it marked a complete enfranchisement from the influence of Wagner. Debussy had been censured for saying that melody in the voice parts (that is, _formal_ melody) was 'anti-dramatic,' but his by no means unmelodic recitative with its fastidious attention to finesse of declamation justified the restriction of the melodic element to the orchestra. If the dramatic style of _Pelléas_, in its economy of musical emphasis, was directly modelled upon Moussorgsky's _Boris_, the evolution of this idea in which the orchestra throughout, with the exception of a few climaxes, maintained a transparent delicacy of sonority, established a new conception of dramatic style as well as new resources in sensibility of timbre. Harmonically, _Pelléas_ shows both a surprising unity (considering that it occupied Debussy for ten years at a transitional phase of his career) and a remarkable extension of devices scarcely more than hinted at in his earlier works. It is difficult to formulate these innovations briefly, but they may be grouped under three general headings. First, an æsthetic abrogation of certain conventional harmonic procedures; the free use of consecutive fifths and octaves, sequences of seventh chords (in which Fauré definitely anticipated Debussy), and of ninths. In these seemingly anarchistic over-rulings of tradition Debussy was guided by a sure and hyper-sensitive instinct. Second, the employment of modal harmonization, sometimes strict but more often free, with a singularly felicitous dramatic connotation. Third, the development of a logical manner founded on the whole-tone scale. Debussy cannot claim that he originated the whole-tone scale, since it was used by Dargomijsky in the third act of 'The Stone Guest' (1869), by various neo-Russians, notably Rimsky-Korsakoff, by Chabrier, Fauré, and d'Indy (in the second act of _Fervaal_); nevertheless he can be said to have made this idiom his own by his flexible and discriminating manipulation of its resources. Debussy does not employ the whole-tone scale as monotonously as is often supposed. On the contrary, one of the marked features of his harmonic style is its resourceful variety.

Debussy's use of motives constitutes the very antipodes of Wagner's somewhat cumbrous symphonic development of them. If at first Debussy's treatment seems too fluid and lacking in continuity, a closer study of the score (especially in the orchestral version) will reveal not only a flexible adaptation of motives to the dramatic situations, but a logical and constructive development often with considerable contrapuntal dexterity. Furthermore, a formal coherence is maintained without the artifices of symphonic development.

But the import of _Pelléas_ does not consist merely in the historical or technical value of its innovating features, although this is patent. It resides primarily in the basic poignancy with which the music illustrates and reinforces the touching drama by Maeterlinck, as well as its intrinsic surpassing beauty and poetic thrall. It is because Debussy has characterized the innocent, gentle Mélisande, the ardent Pelléas, Golaud haggard with jealousy, the childlike carelessness of Yniold during a questioning of such import to his father, with such searching fidelity to the creations of the poet that we find music and drama in accord to an extent seldom witnessed in the history of opera. It is because Debussy has brought such freshness of musical invention and profound aptness of interpretation in such scenes as the discovery of Mélisande by Golaud, the questioning end of Act I, the animated scene between Pelléas and Mélisande in Act II, their long love scene in

## Act III, the dramatic duet at the end of Act IV, and the death scene

of Mélisande in Act V, that this opera occupies a unique position. The characterization of the forest, of the subterranean vaults of the château, of the remorse of Golaud after his deed of vengeance, and the purifying majesty of death show Debussy as a poet and dramatist of indisputable mastery. Indeed, it is not too much to say that _Pelléas et Mélisande_ occupies a position in modern French music akin to that of _Tristan und Isolde_ in German dramatic literature.

After _Pelléas_, Debussy turned again to the impressionistic style in piano pieces and orchestral works of progressive evolution. With the 'Engravings' for piano (1903) containing 'Pagodas,' 'Evening in Grenada,' 'Gardens in the Rain,' he continued the impressionistic method of 'The Afternoon of a Faun' with an amplified harmonic and expressive idiom. 'Pagodas,' founded on the Cambodian scale, and the Spanish suggestions in 'Evening in Grenada' are characteristic instances of the French taste for exoticism; 'Gardens in the Rain' is founded upon an old French folk-song which Debussy used later in the orchestral _Image, Rondes de Printemps_. All three are markedly individual, and display the poetic insight of Debussy tempered by discretion. 'Masks' and 'The Joyous Isle' (both 1904) contain alike fantastic exuberance and an increasingly personal pianistic and harmonic style. The latter in particular contains a homogeneity of thematic development supposedly incompatible with an impressionistic method. Two sets of _Images_ (1905 and 1907) make still greater demands upon the impressionistic capacity of the listener, sometimes at the expense of concrete musical inventiveness, but those entitled 'Reflections in the Water' and 'Goldfishes' offer no diminution of imaginative vitality. 'The Children's Corner' (1908), a collection of miniatures, are sketches of poetic appeal, though relatively slight. The final number, 'Golliwog's Cakewalk,' is a fascinating French version of ragtime style. Mr. André Caplet has orchestrated these pieces with sensitive taste. Two series of 'Preludes' (1911 and 1913) exhibit both the virtues and defects of Debussy's piano music. In some the piano is scarcely equal to the impressionistic demands made upon it, others touch the high-water mark of Debussy's versatile invention. In the first set, 'Veils,' 'The Wind in the Plain,' 'The Enveloped Cathedral' are felicitously impressionistic; the 'Sounds and Perfumes Turn in the Evening Air,' 'The Girl with Flaxen Hair' are lyrically atmospheric, while in 'Minstrels' is to be found another inimitably humorous transcription of ragtime idiom. In the second set, _La Puerta del Vino_ is an imaginatively exotic Habañera; _La terrasse des audiences des clair de lune_ is of rarefied emotional atmosphere; 'The Fairies are Exquisite Dancers' and _Ondine_ are brilliant bits of delicate fancy; 'General Lavine--Eccentric' is another witty adaptation of rag-time in the Debussian manner. 'Fireworks,' a brilliantly impressionistic study ending with a distant refrain of the _Marseillaise_ in a key other than that of the bass, approaches realism, a final climax, before the above-mentioned refrain, consisting of a double glissando on the black and white keys simultaneously. 'Fireworks' is also notable for a cadenza which is not in Debussy's harmonic style, and which closely resembles cadenzas characteristic of Maurice Ravel. But, with the historic precedent of Haydn in his old age learning of Mozart in orchestral procedure, one must not deny the same privilege to Debussy. This detail is not without its piquant side, because Ravel has been unjustly reproached for too many 'obligations' to Debussy.

In the meantime Debussy has published several sets of songs entitled to mention. A second collection of _Fêtes galantes_ (1904) shows a slight falling off in spontaneity, but _Le Faune_ is imaginative and felicitously inventive, and in the _Colloque sentimental_ an ingenious quotation is made from an accompaniment figure of _En Sourdine_ in the first collection, justifiable not only on account of the sentiments of the text in the second song, but for the reminiscent alteration of the original harmonies. A charming song, _Le Jardin_ (presumably 1905), from a collection of settings by various French composers of poems by Paul Gravollet, having a delightful running accompaniment over a measured declamation of the text, must be regarded as one of Debussy's best. With some departure from his usual choice of texts, Debussy has successfully set three _Ballades_ (1910) by François Villon, reproducing with uncommon picturesqueness the archaic flavor of the poem. The same year witnessed the publication of _Le Promenoir des amants_ on poems by Tristan Lhermitte, whose delicate poetic style is more characteristic of his established individuality. Of the 'Three Poems by Mallarmé' (1913) one must admit an exquisite but somewhat tenuous musical sentiment, not entirely free from the 'polyharmonic' influence now current in Paris.

Among Debussy's vocal works, especial stress should be laid on the spontaneous and spirited settings for unaccompanied mixed chorus of the _Trois Chansons_ of Charles d'Orléans (1908). Here Debussy has caught the spirit of these fifteenth-century poems most aptly, and yet has not departed essentially from his own individuality. It is incredible that these choruses are not better known, and that they are not in the repertory of more choral societies.

In the meantime it is not to be supposed that Debussy had relinquished orchestral composition since his success with _Pelléas et Mélisande_. In 1904 he wrote two dances, _Danse profane_ and _Danse sacrée_, for the newly invented chromatic harp with accompaniment of string orchestra. These pieces are pleasingly archaic in character and yet not unduly so, illustrating an unusual capacity in Debussy's inventive imagination. 'The Sea,' three symphonic sketches for orchestra (1903-1905), produced in 1905, cannot be considered entirely successful in spite of many remarkable qualities. Here Debussy has attempted a subject which has proved disillusionizing for many composers, and one which is perhaps beyond the scope of his imagination. There are picturesque and beautiful episodes in the first movement, particularly the last pages, but the effect of the movement as a whole is disjointed. The second movement, _Jeux des Vagues_, is thoroughly charming in its fanciful delineation of its title, and possesses more continuity of development. The third movement, again, is less satisfactory, although the climax is stirringly triumphant. In 1909 Debussy published three _Images_ for orchestra: _Gigues_ (not published until 1913, although announced with the others), _Ibéria_, and _Rondes de Printemps_. _Gigues_ is a slight if charming piece, with vivacious rhythms and no little originality of orchestral effect; _Rondes de Printemps_ is a fantastic and sensitive impressionistic sketch, founded upon the same folk-song which Debussy employed in 'Gardens in the Rain' from the 'Engravings,' here treated with the contrapuntal resources of imitation and augmentation. If an episode in the middle of the piece is less vital both in invention and treatment, the effect of the whole is full of poetry, especially at the climax where the strings divided have a sequence of inverted chords of the eleventh descending diatonically with magical effect. But the most significant by far of these _Images_ is _Ibéria_ (the ancient name for Spain), in which Debussy has given free play to his exotic imagination and his faculty for impressionistic treatment. Like Chabrier's _España_, Debussy's _Ibéria_ is still Spain seen through a Frenchman's eyes, but with an enormous temperamental difference in vision. In the first section, 'Through the Streets and Byways,' Debussy has never shown more fantastic brilliance and vivid, almost garish, interplay of color. In the second portion, 'The Perfumes of Night,' he has never exceeded its poignant atmosphere of surcharged sensibility. A theme for divided violas and violoncellos recalls the emotional heights of _Pelléas_. The last movement, 'Morning on a Fête Day,' shows an impressionism intensified almost to realism. As a whole _Ibéria_ is perhaps the most satisfying example of Debussy's mature method, in which we find an undiminished vitality of imagination combined with irreproachable workmanship. Debussy's orchestral style, while difficult to adjust satisfactorily, is full of delicate and brilliant coloristic effects side by side.

In 1911 Debussy wrote incidental music for Gabriel d'Annunzio's drama 'The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian.' It is a thankless task to appraise dramatic music apart from its intended adjuncts, especially when it is somewhat fragmentary in character. There is an abundant use of the quasi-archaic idiom (already employed in the first of the Dances for harp and strings), which found its justification in the mystical character of the drama. Also there seems a little straining of impressionistic resources in harmony, and not a little effective choral writing. An orchestra of unusual constituence gave opportunity for effects of a striking character. But the fact remains that the music loses much of its appeal apart from the conditions for which it was written.

Of late Debussy has taken to the ballet, influenced no doubt by the example of his contemporaries and the magnificent opportunities for performance offered by the annual visits of Diaghilev's Russian Ballet. Florent Schmitt was one of the first of ultra-modern Frenchmen to try this form with his lurid and masterly _Tragédie de Salomé_ (1907); then followed Paul Dukas with _La Péri_ (1910), Maurice Ravel with 'Daphnis and Chloë' (1911), and other works to be mentioned later.

In 1912 Debussy published _Jeux_, ballet in one act on a scenario by Nijinsky, and _Khamma_, of the same dimensions, by W. L. Courtney and Maud Allan. Finally, in 1913, he composed the miniature ballet-pantomime _La Boîte aux joujoux_, by André Heller. In these works he has shown a natural theatrical and scenic instinct which is extraordinary, a sensitive adaptation of music to dramatic situations, and a surprising versatility in spite of his previous vindications of this quality. The plot of _Jeux_ is slight and fantastically unreal and improbable, but it has afforded a basis for impalpable music of great subtlety and distinction, in which the appeal to Debussy's imagination was obvious. _Khamma_, admirably contrived from the dramatic point of view for the logical introduction of dancing, exhibits a breadth of conception and a heroic quality which is rare in Debussy. Unfortunately, incidents have prevented this ballet from being performed (as far as may be ascertained), but this assuredly has not been on account of the inadequacy of the music. _La Boîte aux joujoux_ differs totally from the two preceding in being, as its title-page asserts, a ballet for children. It is not an unalloyed surprise from the pen of the composer of the 'Children's Corner,' but it combines genuine poetry, humor, mock-realism, and a judicious miniature medium that is entirely original. If musically at least _La Boîte aux joujoux_ presupposes a very sophisticated child, that does not prevent it from making an instant appeal to mature listeners.

For many years it has been announced that Debussy has been at work on operas taken from Poe's stories 'The Devil in the Belfry' and 'The Fall of the House of Usher.' There have also been rumors that he was at work on a version of the story of Tristan. It is a foregone conclusion that these works will not appear until their scrupulous composer is satisfied with every detail.

Like other modern French musicians Debussy has a ready pen and exceedingly interesting critical opinions. He has served as critic for the _Revue blanche_ and for _Gil Blas_, and many articles on a wide range of subjects have appeared in these periodicals. His conversations with M. Croche[64] have served as an amiable disguise for the expression of his personal views on music.

When we come to survey as a whole the personality and achievement of Debussy we discover that he has been influenced by a fair number of composers, but that their effect has been for the most part superficial and transitory. Such was the contributory share of Chopin and Grieg; Moussorgsky is prominently influential alike for his dramatic style and his fidelity to nature; other Neo-Russians have by their orchestral idiom helped to cultivate his sense of timbre; Fauré and Chabrier both guided him harmonically; Massenet with his sure craftsmanship had more than a casual admiration from Debussy; even the fantastic figure of Erik Satie, an exaggerated symbolistic musician of grotesque ideas but inefficient technique, helped him to avoid the banal path. But the mainstay of Debussy's reputation is simply that of his concrete musical gifts, his inventiveness, his ability to characterize, and pervading æsthetic instinct. It is not by virtue of his determination to be impressionistic in music, nor by the extension of the possibilities of the whole-tone scale, or free modal harmonization, nor by his original pianistic style, despite the intrinsic and historic significance of these, that he has come to be the leading representative of ultra-modern French composers of the revolutionary type, in opposition to the reactionary if modernistic d'Indy. It is because a certain creative field, which others had approached tentatively, has been made to yield a scope of subject, a variety of utterance and an æsthetic import hitherto totally unsuspected. While the impressionistic (or symbolistic) style has in Debussy's hand become a flexible, fanciful, fantastic or poignantly human idiom, its real weight can be appreciated only by neglecting the harmonic novelty or the stylistic medium and concentrating on the direct utterance of the music itself. It is through this basic eloquence of musical speech that Debussy is significant. It is for this reason that, with Strauss, he must be regarded as the chief creative figure of his generation. To realize the simple, almost primitive, attitude of Debussy toward his art it may be illuminating to quote from an article from his pen in response to inquiries 'On the present state of French music,' put by Paul Landormy in the _Revue bleue_ (1904), translated by Philip Hale.[65]

'French music is clearness, elegance, simple and natural declamation; French music wishes, first of all, to give pleasure. Couperin, Rameau--these are true Frenchmen.' Debussy has always admired Rameau, witness his _Hommage à Rameau_ in the first set of the _Images_ for piano and his obvious predilection for the eighteenth-century qualities of lucidity and transparent outline of much of his music. It must not be forgotten that Debussy has joined Saint-Saëns, d'Indy, and Dukas in the revision of Rameau's works for the complete edition. Later in the same article we find Debussy reiterating the view expressed above as to the function of music with an insistence that is both Latin and even Pagan in the best sense. 'Music should be cleared of all scientific apparatus. Music should seek humbly _to give pleasure_; great beauty is possible between these limits. Extreme complexity is the contrary of art. Beauty should be perceptible; it should impose itself on us, or insinuate itself, without any effort on our part to grasp it. Look at Leonardo da Vinci, Mozart! These are great artists.'

To sum up, Debussy has brought the impressionistic and symbolistic style into music; he has evolved a supple harmonic idiom devoid of monotony, not chiefly characterized by the whole-tone scale as many believe, but comprising a simple style, a taking archaism, an application of modal style, and an extension of the uses of ninths and other chords. He has developed an incredibly simple and yet effective dramatic style, which makes 'Pelléas and Mélisande' one of the significant works of the century. He has extended the nuances and the figures of piano style, and has increased the subdivision of the orchestra into delicate, almost opalescent, timbres. But more than all, he has given to music a new type of poetry, a rarefied humanity, and new revelations of the imagination. It is too soon to judge of the durability of his work, but his historical position is secure--a lineal descendant of French eighteenth-century great musicians with the vision and the creative daring of the twentieth.

[Illustration: Claude Debussy] _After a photo from life_

If the widespread imitation of Debussy may be taken as an indication, no further proof of the vitality of his creative innovations is needed. Richard Strauss has not disdained to use the whole-tone scale in _Salome_ (the entrance of Herod), Reger has followed suit in the 'Romantic Suite'; Puccini has drawn upon the same idiom in 'The Girl of the Golden West'; Cyril Scott in England and Charles Martin Loeffler in the United States have gone to the same source, despite their indisputably individual attainments. In Paris itself the followers of Debussy are rife, and his influence is as contagious as that of Wagner thirty years ago. A figure long misjudged as a mere echo of Debussy, who after an interval of fifteen years has shown that he steadily followed his own path in spite of some manifest obligations to the founder of impressionism in music is Maurice Ravel. Since he is easily second in importance among the members of the 'atmospheric' group, he deserves, therefore, to be considered immediately after Debussy.

II

Joseph-Maurice Ravel was born March 7, 1875, in the town of Ciboure, in the department of the Basses-Pyrénées in the extreme southwest of France, close to the Spanish border. From early childhood, however, he lived in Paris. At the age of twelve his predisposition toward music asserted itself by his delight in the major seventh chord, which he employed with such insight later.[66] He was accordingly given lessons in piano-playing and composition. His earliest works were some variations on a chorale by Schumann, and the first movement of a sonata. In 1889 he entered the Paris Conservatory, where he studied the piano with de Bériot, harmony with Pessard, counterpoint and fugue with Gedalge, and composition with Fauré. Despite his application he did not meet with the success his efforts deserved. In 1901, however, he was awarded the second _prix de Rome_ for his cantata _Myrrha_, and it is said that some of the jury favored him as a choice for the first prize. In the two following years he was unsuccessful, and in 1904 he did not attempt to compete. In 1905 he offered himself as candidate, but was refused permission. This exclusion, when he had already attracted much attention as a composer, which may have been partly due to his audacity in 'writing down' ironically to the reactionary jury of 1901, aroused protests of so violent a nature as to start an inquiry into conditions at the Conservatory, with the result that Théodore Dubois was forced to resign as director and Gabriel Fauré was appointed in his place. Since then Ravel has devoted himself entirely to composition and the record of his life is to be found most persuasively in his work. Ravel has served several times on the committee of the _Société Nationale_, and he is a charter member of the _Société Musicale Indépendante_.

Before proceeding to a consideration of Ravel's music, it may be well to enumerate the various influences he has undergone. The first was Chabrier, whose _Trois Valses romantiques_ for two pianos aroused his admiration when scarcely more than a boy. Then, as in the case of Debussy, the fantastic personality and curious music of Erik Satie appealed to his imagination. Some of Fauré's harmonic procedures and some of his mannerisms, such as the abuse of sequence, have left their traces in the pupil. Some of Debussy's harmonic innovations have obviously affected Ravel, just as he has accepted his impressionism, but a careful study of the latter's works will show a definite line of cleavage in both particulars, beginning at an early stage of his career. The exoticism of the Neo-Russians and their sense of orchestral timbre have undoubtedly exercised a powerful charm over Ravel.

After some unpublished songs, and a _Sérénade grotesque_ for piano composed in 1894, Ravel published his first music in 1895, a _Menuet antique_ for piano, which Roland Manuel describes as 'a curious work in which are voluntarily opposed, so it seems, scholastic contrapuntal artifices and the most charming radicalism (_hardiesses_).' Ravel's next work was two pieces for two pianos entitled _Les Sites Auriculaires_, one a _Habañera_ (1895), showing an astonishing harmonic independence for so young a composer, which was utilized later in the 'Spanish Rhapsody' for orchestra, the other _Entre Cloches_ (1896), which is said to have been incorporated in _La Vallée des Cloches_, included in the piano pieces entitled _Miroirs_ in 1896 also. Ravel composed the first of his published songs, _Sainte_, on a poem by Mallarmé, for which the music is charmingly archaic, somewhat in Fauré's manner, but not devoid of independence. In 1898 followed the 'Two Epigrams' for voice and piano, on texts by Clément Marot (fifteenth century), in which Ravel again appropriately employed an archaic idiom curiously intermingled with ninth chords. In this same year Ravel composed his first orchestral work, the overture _Shéhérazade_ (performed by the National Society in the following year), which has never been published. Two piano pieces, a _Pavane pour une infante défunte_ (1899), whose poignantly elegiac mood shows its composer in a new light as regards sensibility, and brilliant _tour de force_, _Jeux d'eau_ (1901), full of harmonic novelty and strikingly original pianistic style, are both significant advances. It was the bold personality of the latter piece that served to expose and accentuate the ironic caricature of a sentimental style to be found in _Myrrha_ which prejudiced a reactionary jury against him. A string quartet (1902-03) at once made a profound impression on account of the relative youth of its composer, for its command of a difficult medium, its polish and symmetry of form, its poetry and depth of sentiment. If the last two movements are inferior in substance and inspiration, the scherzo is piquant and novel, while the first movement, particularly in its poetic close, stands in the front rank of modern French chamber music literature. If the theme of the first movement by its harmonization in a sequence of seventh chords suggests Fauré, there is no denying the personality of the work as a whole. Three songs for voice and orchestra, _Shéhérazade_ (1903), on poems by Tristan Klingsor (pseudonym for Tristan Leclère), are unequal, but the first, _Asie_, reflects the varied exoticism of its text with sympathetic charm.

Five pieces for piano entitled _Miroirs_ (1905) present Ravel's individuality in a clear light as regards his impressionistic method. Without the maturity of a later collection of piano pieces, they reflect, as their title indicates, various aspects of nature with the illusion demanded by impressionistic method, and at the same time exhibit profundity of insight and delineative poetry. The foundation of Ravel's thematic treatment, unusual pianistic idiom, his personal harmonic flavor, and his personal sentiment are all to be found therein. In these pieces no trace is to be found of external influence; the composer speaks in his own voice. _Oiseaux tristes_, a melancholy landscape with some realistic touches; _Une barque sur l'Océan_, broadly impressionistic sketch of large dimensions; _Alborada del Graciosa_, exhibiting that Spanish exoticism which has often tempted Ravel; and _La Vallé des Cloches_, of sombre yet highly poetic atmosphere, are the most striking. A sonatina for piano of the same year pleases by the polish of its form, its successful correlation of detail and the individuality of its contents. A humorous song, 'The Toy's Christmas' (also 1905), later provided with orchestral accompaniment, is an ingenious and vivacious trifle.

In 1906 Ravel reasserted his gifts as a delicate realist with the songs entitled 'Natural Histories,' on texts by Jules Renard. With a musical imagery that is at once ironic and replete with sensitive observation, Ravel depicts the peacock, the cricket, the swan, and other birds. An Introduction and Allegro (1906) for harp with accompaniment of string quartet, flute and clarinet is chiefly remarkable for the grateful virtuosity with which the harp is treated. In 1907 Ravel showed at once technical mastery of the orchestra and a skillful reproduction of Spanish atmosphere with a 'Spanish Rhapsody,' which is both brilliant and poetic. This work must be considered with Chabrier's _España_ and Debussy's _Ibéria_ as one of the graphic pictures of exoticism in French musical literature. To this same year belongs 'The Spanish Hour,' text by Franc Nohain entitled a 'musical comedy' (but not in our sense), in which Ravel attempted to revive the manner of the _opera buffa_. The comedy contains inherent improbabilities and the text is often far from inspiring, but Ravel has written ingenious, humorous and poetic music which far exceeds the book in value. This opera presents a running commentary in the orchestra on a few motives, leaving the voices to declaim with freedom, while the brilliant and picturesque orchestration adds greatly to vivacity and charm of the music.

In 1908 Ravel composed a set of four-hand pieces, 'Mother Goose,' of ingenuity, humor, and poetic insight. These pieces have since been orchestrated with incomparable finesse and knowledge of instrumental resource, forming an orchestral suite, and, with the addition of a prelude and various interludes, they have also been transformed into a ballet. In 1908, also, Ravel composed three poems for the piano, _Gaspard de la Nuit_, on prose fragments by Aloysius Bertrand, which in technical style and contents mark the acme of his achievement in literature for the piano. _Ondine_ and _Scarbo_, the first and third of these pieces, illustrate their 'programs' with an illuminating poetry that is both brilliant and profound in insight. The second, _Le Gibbet_, with a persistent pedal note in the right hand over extraordinarily ingenious harmonies, possesses a genuinely sinister and tragic depth.

These poems contrast sharply with Debussy's _Images_ of the same year. The latter are more obviously impressionistic, but Ravel has disposed his uncanny technical equipment with such expressive mastery and such interpretative vitality as to fear no comparison with the older composer. If by contrast the _Valse nobles et sentimentales_ (1910) for piano are agreeable _jeux d'esprit_, they none the less possess qualities that win our admiration. Frank boldness of style, fantastic irony, and sentimental poetry go hand in hand, united by a grateful piano idiom. The epilogue in particular, with its reminiscences of various waltzes, gives a formal continuity which relieves the set as a whole from any charge of disjointedness.

Ravel's masterpiece is his 'choreographic symphony' _Daphnis et Chloé_ (1906-11), first performed by Diaghilev's Russian Ballet in 1912. In this work Ravel disproves emphatically the possible charge that he is a composer of miniatures, for from the formal aspects it shows continuity and coördination of development in the symphonic manipulation of its motives. Dramatically it is in remarkable accord with the atmosphere, the action and the development of the scenario by the famous ballet-master and author of plots Michel Fokine. The music not only possesses interpretative vitality on a far larger scale than Ravel has ever shown before, but, aside from its astonishing brilliancy and its coloristic poetry, it has a contrapuntal vigor of invention and treatment which are absolutely convincing. From the harmonic standpoint Ravel has attained a new freedom and an elastic suppleness of idiom that is bewildering. His treatment of a large orchestra, augmented by the use of a mixed chorus behind the scenes, is vitally brilliant and marvellously poetic even in the light of his previous achievements. All in all, _Daphnis et Chloé_ is one of the most significant dramatic works of recent years, and can worthily be placed side by side with Debussy's _Pelléas et Mélisande_ and Dukas' _Ariane et Barbe-bleue_ for its intrinsic merits and historical attributes.

For some years Ravel has been engaged upon a setting of Hauptmann's _Versunkene Glocke_. It is also announced that he is at work upon a trio, a concerto for piano on Basque themes, and an oratorio, _Saint François d'Assise_. With his recent successes in mind, these projected works engage a lively expectation.

In conclusion, it must be acknowledged that Ravel cannot, like Debussy, claim to be a pioneer. He was fortunate in being enabled to profit by the swift development of new idioms, to absorb the exuberance of Chabrier, the suave mysticism of Fauré, the illuminating impressionism of Debussy, and the scintillant exoticism of the Neo-Russians. But, while he owes no more to his predecessors than Debussy, he has had the advantage of having matured his style at an age which was relatively in advance of Debussy. It must be recognized that as a whole Ravel's music lies nearer the surface of the human heart than Debussy's. It is not usual to find that depth of poetry or of human sentiment which distinguishes so considerable a portion of Debussy's music. Ravel, on the other hand, is more expansive in his scope; he captivates us with his humor, his irony, his dappling brilliancy, and with an almost metallic grasp in execution of a pre-conceived plan. His harmonic transformations exert a literal fascination, though their technical facility obscures their purpose, but underneath there is seldom an inner deficiency of sentiment. If his impressionism is tinged with quasi-realistic effects, there is no lack of genuine homogeneity of style. In fact, his skillful blending of the two tendencies is one of the chief features of his originality. In such works as the _Pavane_, the first movement of the String Quartet, in _Asie_ from _Shéhérazade_, in _La Vallée des Cloches_, in _Ondine_ and _Le Gibbet_, and in many episodes of _Daphnis et Chloé_ Ravel offers a convincingly human sentiment which only emphasizes his essential versatility of expression. For in his characteristic vein of ironic brilliance and fantastic subtlety he carries all before him.

III

If the work of Bruneau and Charpentier does not follow in historic or chronological sequence that of Debussy and Ravel, their juxtaposition is defensible since the former in common with the latter have received their individual stimulus from sources extraneous to music. In the case of Bruneau the vitalizing motive is the literary realism of Émile Zola; in that of Charpentier the direct inspiration comes from socialism or at least a socialistic outlook.

Louis-Charles-Bonaventure-Alfred Bruneau was born in Paris, on March 1, 1857. His father played the violin, his mother was a painter, thus an æsthetic environment favored his artistic development. Alfred Bruneau entered the Paris Conservatory at the age of sixteen; three years later he was awarded the first prize for violoncello playing. He studied harmony for three years in Savard's class, became a pupil of Massenet and was the first to win the second _prix de Rome_ in 1881 with a cantata _Geneviève_. For some years previously Bruneau had been a member of Pasdeloup's orchestra, and in 1884 an _Overture héroïque_ (1885) was played by this organization. Other orchestral works--_La Belle au bois dormant_ (1884) and _Penthesilée_ (a symphonic poem with chorus, 1888)--belong to this period.

Despite some fifty songs, choruses, a Requiem, and some pieces for various wind instruments and piano, Bruneau is essentially a dramatic composer, and it is chiefly as such that he deserves consideration. His first dramatic work, _Kérim_, the text by Millet and Lavedan (1886), is an unpretentious opera of eminently lyric vein, in which a facile orientalism plays a prominent part. It displays the technical fluidity which might be expected of a pupil of Massenet, and possesses a slight, though palpable, individuality. A ballet, _Les Bacchantes_ (1887), not published until 1912 and recently performed, is in the old style of detached pieces without continuous music. Here Bruneau has been successful in dramatic characterization, but the music is again largely a reflection of Massenet.

It was not until 1891 that Bruneau gave evidence of his characteristic style and individual dramatic method which he has since pursued steadily. French musicians had awakened to the permanent significance of Wagner's dramatic principles, and it is not surprising, therefore, to find that Bruneau accepted these in slight degree. His Wagnerian obligations are virtually limited to an attempt to unite music and text as intimately as possible, to employ leading-motives as symbols of persons or ideas, and to avoid formal melody in the voice parts except at essentially lyric moments. His development of motives, while to a certain extent symphonic, is in fact markedly different from that of Wagner, and his recitatives depart from the traditional accompanied recitatives in that they employ as nearly as possible the inflections of natural speech over single chords.

The kernel of Bruneau's dramatic method lies in his ardent championing of realism as a guiding principle in general, and his admiration for Émile Zola as a man and as a literary artist in particular. With the exception of _Kérim_ all his operas have been on subjects taken from Zola's works, or on texts by Zola himself. With the ideals of realism in mind, Bruneau has avoided legendary subjects, although many of his works are symbolic, and he has preferred to treat dramas of everyday life, animated by the passions of ordinary mortals. As Debussy reflected the impressionism or symbolism of poets, painters, and dramatists in his music, so Bruneau's operas are a counterpart of the realistic movement. In place, therefore, of the stilted, unreal

## action which disfigures even the finest conceptions of Wagner, Bruneau

has sought to replace it with a lifelike, tense, and rapid simulation of life itself. His realism has even led to the discarding in his later operas of verse for prose from obvious realistic considerations. In spite of some Teutonic sources, Bruneau is eminently Gallic in his musical and dramatic standpoint, and, while certain formulas of his teacher, Massenet, persist for a time, in the main he is rigorously independent. For a time Bruneau was considered revolutionary in his harmonic standpoint, but musically at least he cannot be called iconoclastic, or even progressive. The strength of his achievement lies entirely in his qualities as a dramatist pure and simple.

The first work which embodied Bruneau's realistic attitude was _Le Rêve_ (1891), text by Gallet after Zola's novel. The essence of the work dramatically lies in the mystical temperament of the heroine, Angélique, who loves the son of a priest (born before his father, a widower, entered the priesthood) despite the opposition of his father. When she is apparently dying the priest restores her by a miracle and consents to the marriage, only to have the bride fall lifeless as she leaves the church. While Bruneau's musical treatment of Angélique's mystical hallucinations is in a sentimental manner that recalls Massenet, the opera as a whole shows dramatic power of an independent character. Bruneau's second opera in his new style, _L'Attaque du Moulin_ (1893), the dramatization by Gallet of a story by Zola in _Les Soirées de Médan_, dealing with an episode of the Franco-Prussian war, is far more vital both in drama and music. The mill, the source of life to the miller, Merlier, and his daughter Françoise, is attacked by the enemy. Dominique, a foreigner, who is betrothed to Françoise, is found with powder marks on his hands and is condemned to be shot. The enemy retreat, leaving a sentinel at the mill. The sentinel is assassinated and Merlier is to be shot for the deed. Although Dominique confesses that he did the deed, Merlier dies in his stead so that his daughter may be happy. Bruneau has been equally happy in delineating the peace which reigns at the mill before the arrival of the enemy and the celebration of Françoise's betrothal, and in depicting the brutalities of war and the unselfish death of Merlier. _L'Attaque du Moulin_ is a work of solid inspiration, clarity of style and vivid dramatic force. The Institute of France awarded the Monbinne prize to its composer.

_Messidor_ (1897), text by Zola himself, deals with the struggle between capital and labor and the love of the poor Guillaume for the capitalist's daughter Hélène. The capitalist is ruined, saner economic conditions are brought about and the lovers are united. For a drama which is both sociological and symbolistic Bruneau has written music of broadly humanitarian character and a vitally descriptive vigor. His musical style is firmer and his conceptions are realized with less crudeness than in previous works. _L'Ouragan_ (1901), whose action turns upon a devastating hurricane in a fishing village, and also the tempestuous passions of its inhabitants, has a primitive quality characteristic of both author and composer. There is conscious symbolism in this work also in the distinction of types found in the three feminine characters. Of this opera Debussy wrote: 'He (Bruneau) has, among all musicians, a fine contempt for formulas, he walks across his harmonies without troubling himself as to their grammatical sonorous virtue; he perceives melodic associations that some would qualify too quickly as "monstrous" when they are simply unaccustomed.'[67]

_L'Enfant roi_ (1905), _Naïs Micoulin_ (1907), and _La Faute de l'Abbé Mouret_ (1907) display qualities similar to Bruneau's other operas, in which close adjustment to the drama and consistent musical treatment are the notable features. _Naïs Micoulin_, text by Bruneau himself after Zola's novel, is particularly admirable for its clarity of style, its absence of mannerism, and its vital depiction of two types of jealousy and the faithful devotion of the hunchback, Toine.

Beyond his activity as a dramatic composer, especial mention should be made of Bruneau's work as a critic. He has contributed to many magazines, and he has acted as musical critic for the _Gil Blas_, _Le Figaro_, and _Le Matin_. He has collected three volumes of able criticism, _Musiques d'hier et de demain_ (1900), _La Musique Française_ (1901), containing much valuable historical material, and _Musiques de Russie et Musiciens de France_ (1903). In these volumes he has shown himself a vigorous and broad critic of catholicity of taste and striking discrimination.

To sum up the dramatic work of Bruneau as a whole, he must be considered as representing a sincere phase of French evolution at a critical time. While it is questionable whether realism can be a permanently successful basis for opera, a form in which æsthetic compromise and illusion are inherent, there is no denying the courageous independence of his position and the plausible defense of his methods which his operas constitute. It must be confessed, however, that Bruneau's dramatic instinct takes precedence over his concrete musical gifts and the former carries off many scenes and episodes in which the latter lags behind. In short, Bruneau's gift for the stage is unquestionable, and his dramatic innovations must remain identified with French progress in this medium. His most obvious defect lies in the inequality of his musical inspiration. If his melodic sense is frank and spontaneous as in the prelude to Act I of _L'Attaque du Moulin_, the broad theme after the curtain rises in Act I of _Messidor_, the introduction and 'Sowing Song' in Act II of the same opera, the 'Song of the Earth' in _Naïs Micoulin_, the contour of Bruneau's melodies is, on the other hand, too often awkward and devoid of distinction. Likewise his thematic manipulation is lacking in flexibility or striking development, especially in the too obvious employment of the devices of 'augmentation' and 'diminution' (see _L'Ouragan_, prelude to Act I). Yet the allegorical Ballet of Gold in Act III of _Messidor_ and the Introduction to Act IV of the same work show that Bruneau has sensibility toward symphonic qualities. Bruneau's harmonic idiom is rather monotonous and devoid of that subtle recognition of style that we find in the impressionistic school. On the other side, its wholesome vigor has the sincerity which is the hall-mark of realism. As a harmonist Bruneau is not advanced.

Despite the flaws that one can find in Bruneau the musician, they are perhaps after all the defects of his virtues. At a time of wavering and uncertainty, Bruneau showed uncompromising sincerity, stuck to his guns, defied opinion with a resolution and a reckless adherence to his æsthetic standpoint worthy of a friend of Zola. If his works have not the involuntary persuasion that we find in other ultra-modern French operas, one must acknowledge a preëminent dramatic gift, possessing in its presentation of sociological and humanistic problems vitality, high purpose and moments of indubitable inspiration. If Bruneau's musical defects hamper to a certain extent his wider recognition, his fearless independence, his utter contempt for imitation of others, and the remarkable dramatic affinity between his conceptions and those of Zola's are too striking not to be considered an interesting episode in French dramatic evolution.

While Bruneau's operas, apart from a few performances in London, Germany, and New York, have received attention chiefly in France, Gustave Charpentier, despite his relatively small productivity, has won a universal recognition.

Gustave Charpentier was born in the town of Dieuze in Lorraine, June 25, 1860. After the Franco-Prussian war his parents came to live in Tourcoing, not far from Lille. As a boy Charpentier showed natural aptitude for the violin, clarinet, and solfeggio, although he was obliged to work in a factory to support himself. His employer became so struck with his musical ability that he sent him to the Conservatory at Lille, where he obtained numerous prizes. As a result of this the municipality of Tourcoing granted him an annual pension of twelve hundred francs to study at the Paris Conservatory. In 1881 he began his work there as a pupil of Massart, the violinist. He was not successful in competition and, moreover, was obliged to leave to fulfill his military service. Returning to the Conservatory, he took up the study of harmony and later entered Massenet's class in composition. He was unsuccessful in a fugue competition, but in 1887 he received the first _prix de Rome_ for his cantata _Dido_, which showed distinct dramatic gift and a concise and logical continuity of musical development.

From Rome he sent back as the required proofs of his industry an orchestral suite 'Impressions of Italy,' permeated with Italian atmosphere and folk-song, a symphony-drama, 'The Life of a Poet,' for solos, chorus and orchestra, which may be regarded as a precursor of his later dramatic work, and the first act of 'Louise.' This last was, however, not presented to the Institute, as that institution considered that 'The Life of a Poet' might count for two works.[68]

On returning to Paris Charpentier went to live in Montmartre, the Bohemian and artistic quarter, and entered passionately into the life about him. It presented the inspiration and material which he wished to embody in musical conceptions. He absorbed both the socialism of the quarter and its Bohemian disparagement of artistic and moral convention. Thus he witnessed the aspiration of artists, their enthusiasm for a life of freedom, together with its inevitable degradation. He studied its types avidly, and reproduced them with a verisimilitude that has made them well nigh immortal. During these years he composed many of the _Poèmes chantés_ (published as a whole in 1894), the songs, _Les Fleurs du mal_ (1895), on poems by Baudelaire; the _Impressions fausses_, on poems by Verlaine, including _La Veillée rouge_ (1894); symbolic variations for baritone and male chorus with orchestra; and _La Ronde des Compagnons_ (1895), for the same combination. In 1896 his _Sérénade à Watteau_ (the poem by Verlaine) for voices and orchestra was performed in the Luxembourg gardens. In 1898 a cantata, _Le Couronnement de la muse_, depicting an established Montmartre custom, later incorporated in 'Louise,' was given in the square of the Hôtel de Ville. As a whole, these vocal works, with the exception of the cantata, are of interest merely as showing the early style of the composer and for their premonitions of his later idiom. Charpentier is not a born song-writer and his settings of Baudelaire's _Le Jet d'eau_, _La Mort des amantes_ and _L'Invitation au voyage_, of Verlaine's _Chevaux de bois_ and _Sérénade à Watteau_ have been easily surpassed by Debussy and Duparc. The most attractive are a setting of Mauclair's _La Chanson du chemin_ for solo voice, women's chorus and orchestra, and the _Impressions fausses_ by Verlaine, in which his dramatic and socialistic bent is more plausible.

In the meantime Charpentier had been working steadily at his 'musical novel' _Louise_, both text and music by himself, which he had begun at Rome. This work, perhaps the most characteristic of his style, was performed for the first time at the Opéra-comique, February 3, 1900. It was an instant and prolonged success, and its composer was not only famous but prosperous financially. Since the recognition of 'Louise' Charpentier has suffered from irregular health. The production of 'Julien' (1896-1904) at Paris, June 4, 1913, announced as a sequel to 'Louise,' has added little to his reputation. It is founded largely on the music of 'The Life of a Poet,' with added episodes which contrast incongruously with the idiom of the earlier work. It has been announced that Charpentier has finished a 'popular epic' entitled a Triptych. This, it is said, will contain three two-act operas with the sub-titles, _L'Amour au faubourg_, _Commédiante_, and _Tragédiante_.

In 1900 Charpentier founded the _Conservatoire populaire de Mimi Pinson_ (the generic slang title for the shop-girl) for encouraging the musical education of working girls. But, despite its worthy sociological purpose, this institution has failed. Charpentier has occasionally written critical articles, among them sympathetic reviews of Bruneau's _L'Attaque du Moulin_ and _L'Ouragan_.

In considering the music and personality of Charpentier it must be recognized at the outset that he is far removed in emotional and intellectual makeup from other prominent figures in modern French music. A child of the people, absorbing socialistic tendencies from his boyhood, he is a musician of the instinctive type, averse to analysis or pre-conceived theory. As Bruneau drew his inspiration from the creed of realism and the works of Zola, so Charpentier is dominated by his ardent socialistic bent. His music attempts to embody his impressions of life from a democratic standpoint, in which realism and symbolism are sometimes felicitously and sometimes jarringly mingled.

In his musical idiom Charpentier stands close to Massenet, with that involuntary absorption of his teacher's principles which actuates most of the pupils of that facile but marvellously grounded composer. Charpentier is far more sincere, however, in his relations to his art, in that he has not courted popularity or lowered his artistic standard for the sake of success. Despite his obligations to Massenet, Charpentier has a vigorously independent idiom in which Bohemianism and a poetic humanity are the chief ingredients. This asserts itself even if the ultimate source of his style is obvious. He is also indebted to his master for the transparent yet coloristic treatment of the orchestra, in which sonority is obtained without waste or effort. If at times it is evident that Charpentier has not listened to Wagner without profit, the main current of his orchestral procedures, like his basic musical qualities, is preëminently Gallic.

In the early suite, 'Impressions of Italy' (1890), Charpentier has depicted in a pleasing and picturesque style various aspects of nature, the serenades of young men on leaving the inns at midnight, with responses of mandolins and guitars; the balanced and stately walk of peasant maidens carrying water from the spring; the brisk trot of mules with jingling harnesses and their driver's songs; the wide stretches of country seen from the heights near the 'Desert of Sorrento,' the cries of birds and the distant sounds of convent bells; and for finale a realistic description of a fête night at Naples with the tarantella, folk-songs, bands drowning each other out and general and uproarious gayety. While the musical substance of this suite is undeniably light, Charpentier has mingled Italian melodies, descriptions of nature and a poetic undercurrent with an unusual atmospheric charm and glamour that outweigh concretely musical consideration. His instinctive and coloristic manipulation of orchestral timbres heightens greatly the programmistic illusion.

Though the 'Life of a Poet' (1889-91), scenario and text by Charpentier, is crude and immature, it possesses indubitable dramatic vitality notwithstanding. It tells the tragedy of a young and aspiring poet who would conquer the world of expression, confident in his ability. Gradually he is assailed by doubt, loses his faith and ultimately recognizes that he cannot coördinate the vast problems confronting him into unity. Seeking oblivion in drunkenness, he acknowledges his defeat and the drama of his life is over.

In this work Charpentier has placed symbolism and realism side by side in a way that is disconcerting. After an orchestral prelude entitled 'Enthusiasm,' at once rough, forceful and incoherent, a mysterious chorus with the title 'Preparation' has dramatic power and human sentiment. The second and third scenes, respectively described as 'Incantation' and 'In the Land of Dreams,' are still occupied with the symbolic appeal of the poet to inspiration. Throughout this act the music is effective dramatically, although often not far removed from tawdry. In the second act, 'Doubt,' there is a luminous charm in the chorus sung by the 'voices of night,' an appropriate interpretation of the poet's harassing uncertainty in the second scene, and an extremely poetic orchestral passage descriptive of his meditations, which ends the act. In the first tableau of the third act, entitled 'Impotence,' an orchestral introduction of some length, again crudely dramatic, depicts graphically the losing struggle of the poet for his artistic soul. The chorus, 'voices of malediction,' curse a divinity which permits the ruin of the artist's dreams. To this, the poet, sombre and fantastic, adds his last plaint of despair and his curse. In the second 'picture' the poet is at a fête in Montmartre. The orchestra paints vividly the riot of cheap bands and the reckless jollity. The chorus echoes the curse of the preceding act and dies away in mysterious murmurs. A dance orchestra (in the wings) plays a vulgar polka, a noisy military band chimes in while passing. To these a melody is dexterously added in the orchestra. A reminiscence of a chorus in the first act is ingeniously contrived with the polka and orchestral melody as accompaniment. The poet, now drunk, apostrophizes a wretched girl of the streets, who replies with mocking laughter. The orchestra suggests the æsthetic disintegration of the poet, the chorus recalls the aspirations of his earlier life and finally the poet voices his defeat.

'The Life of a Poet' is interesting because it presents in a somewhat primitive state the essential characteristics of the mature Charpentier, namely, a palpable dramatic gift, the faculty of poetic and humanizing illumination and differentiation of scenes. In the scene at Montmartre he has not only furnished a precursor of the Bohemian realism in 'Louise,' but he has displayed considerable contrapuntal facility. If the 'Life of a Poet' has the clearly discernible defects of youth, it has also its vitality and a spontaneous conviction which was prophetic of the future.

The universality of appeal to be found in 'Louise' (finished in 1900, although begun at Rome), a 'musical novel' in four acts, text by the composer, lies chiefly in its simple dramatic poignancy. The story is that of an innocent girl trusting the instincts of her heart in returning the affection of the irresponsible Bohemian poet who lives nearby; her elopement with the poet, her enthralling happiness and brief triumph as 'Muse of Montmartre' shattered by the false report of her father's serious illness; her return to the parental dwelling, her impatient chafing at restraint, her intolerable longing to return to her lover and the facile Bohemian life; her father's anger and her brutal dismissal into the night by him, followed by his curse on Paris. All is basically human and typical of life under all conditions and places. But 'Louise' contains other elements which make alike for retentive charm and for critical admiration. In the first place, it is pervaded by an insinuating glorification of Paris as a city of freedom and provocative attraction, a perpetual Bohemian paradise. Next, by the nature of the plot it affords an opportunity for the librettist to voice a socialistic assertion of the individual's right to personal liberty, somewhat sententiously uttered, and a condemnation of restraint symbolized by parental egotism. 'Louise' also contains a plausible and graphic portrayal of artist life in Montmartre, including the time-honored ceremony of crowning its 'Muse,' by which Charpentier has immortalized types doomed to disappear before the commercialization of the quarter for the foreign visitor. In addition Charpentier may claim distinction for his services as a folk-lorist by introducing the street cries of various vendors to increase 'local color,' recalling the ingenious choruses by Jannequin (of the sixteenth century), such as _Les Cris de Paris_ and _Le Chant des Oiseaux_. Thus in time it may be recognized that he has fulfilled an ethnographic purpose of some import.

As the dramatic attraction of 'Louise' resides in its simplicity, so also its musical value resides in its continuous spontaneity, its limpidity of style, devoid of all pretentious scholasticism, in which, however, there is plenty of technical skill and unostentatious mastery of material. Charpentier's dramatic and musical idiom follows the conception of Massenet, in which the constituent elements are balanced, without superfluous insistence upon either. He employs formal lyricism, except when the situation demands it, uses a flowing and melodic declamation which gives free play to the annunciation of the text. He employs motives freely, not in the Wagnerian fashion, however, but in their flexible manipulation succeeds in giving the needful touches of detailed characterization. If his orchestral sonority verges occasionally upon coarseness, as a whole it enhances and colors the dramatic emotions with remarkable skill and poetic fancy.

But, aside from the question of dramatic method, it is the freshness of invention, the skill in characterization, and the ebullient musical imaginativeness of 'Louise' which makes it so unusual among operas. It is more accurate and illusive in its picture of Bohemianism than Puccini's _La Bohème_, and possesses far more human depth and emotional sincerity throughout. In this respect also it is far above the generality of Massenet's operas, and may be compared, despite their essential difference in musical individuality, to the operas of Bruneau. Charpentier is more of a poet, and his musical invention is far readier. While it may be needless to particularize the domestic scenes in the first act; the prelude to the second act, 'The City Awakens,' with the scene before the dawn in which the rag-pickers, the coal-gleaners, and other characters of the night-world discuss of life as they have found it; the second scene in the same act, the dressmaker's workshop, with an orchestral part for the sewing machine, in which the sewers converse idly and try to account for Louise's moodiness, the whole first tableau of the third act, in which Julien and Louise sing of the lure of Paris; Louise's scene with her father in the fourth act, all these are concrete examples of the interpretative power of Charpentier the dramatist and composer.

It is difficult to be enthusiastic over Julien. If the hero justifies the opposition of Louise's parents (for the story of 'The Life of a Poet' forms its dramatic basis), the introduction of many allegorical or symbolic episodes not only mars the continuity of the drama, but their musical style offends by its difference from that of the music of 'The Life of a Poet,' upon which Charpentier has drawn so freely for the later opera. While in many instances Charpentier has shown ingenuity in adapting his earlier music, the total result of his labors has not only been disappointing but disillusionizing in the extreme.

As a whole, Charpentier, the poet of 'Impressions of Italy,' the crude but forceful dramatist of the 'Poet's Life,' the mature artist of 'Louise,' has accomplished certain unique aspects of realism with a symbolic or sociological undercurrent. Limited as he is to 'the quarter,' he has been also universal, and his sincere and picturesque vision has something of permanence. As a pupil of Massenet he does not belong to the vanguard, but his plausible synthesis of seemingly contradictory elements has left a permanent impress in the annals of modern French music.

IV

While categorical classification is not always essential in criticism, it is somewhat discommoding to acknowledge that a composer cannot conveniently be placed under one logical and comprehensive heading. While assimilation of qualities peculiar to two opposing groups can be unified to a considerable extent, the work of such an artist is inevitably lacking in complete homogeneity. Such a figure is Dukas, who, nevertheless, must be considered a force of considerable vitality in present-day French music.

Paul Dukas was born in Paris, October 1, 1865. Toward his fourteenth year his musical gifts asserted themselves. In 1881, after some preliminary study, he entered the Paris Conservatory, where he was a pupil of Mathias (piano), Dubois (harmony), and Guiraud (composition). In 1888 he was awarded the second _prix de Rome_ for his cantata _Valleda_. Since he was passed over entirely in the competition of the following year, he left the Conservatory and fulfilled his military service. At this period he had composed three overtures, of which the last, _Polyeucte_, alone has been published and performed. In his _Cours de Composition_,[69] d'Indy discloses that Dukas was ill-satisfied with the instruction he received at the Conservatory, and that he subsequently made a profound study of the classics and evolved his own technical idiom. Dukas, however, shows the effect of two schools, that of Franck in much of his instrumental music, and a sympathy with that of Debussy in the dramatic field. To acknowledge this does not mean to tax him with lack of individuality, but merely to recognize the confluence of opposing viewpoints.

The overture _Polyeucte_ (1891) shows surprising command for so young a man of the technique of composition and orchestration, although unnecessarily elaborate in the former particular. It has the classic dignity of Corneille and at the same time is sincerely dramatic. The Symphony in C (1895-96) shows considerable progress in many respects: clearer part writing, unpretentious yet logical construction, no apparent ambition other than to write sincerely within the limits of normal symphonic style. There is also marked advance in clarity and brilliance in the orchestral style. In 1897 Dukas made a pronounced hit with his fantastic and imaginative Scherzo, _L'Apprenti sorcier_, after Goethe's ballad, first performed at a concert of the National Society. This work is one of the landmarks of modern French music for its elastic fluency of style, the descriptive imagery of its music, and, above all, its personal note, in which the orchestra was treated with dazzling mastery.

A Sonata for piano (1899-1900) forsakes the vein of programmistic _tour de force_ entirely and exhibits a dignified, almost classic, style whose workmanship is admirable throughout. The theme of the first movement is distinguished, the second less interesting until it appears in the recapitulation with deft canonic imitation. The slow movement is somewhat cold and lacking in inner sentiment; the scherzo is individual, and the finale solid. Similarly the 'Variations, Interlude and Finale,' on a theme by Rameau, for piano (1902), is not only composed with similar preoccupation for thorough workmanship, but its spirit, save for some ever-present harmonic boldness, seems to have proceeded from the epoch of the theme. As a matter of fact, these variations show a post-Beethovenian ingenuity, and genuine skill in perceiving the gracious theme of Rameau in different and engaging lights that make this work conspicuous among piano literature in modern French music. But this music is strongly suggestive of d'Indy and the Schola. A Villanelle for horn and piano (1906) is a charming piece which achieves individuality despite the limitations of the horn.

But when Dukas' music for Maeterlinck's _Ariane et Barbe Bleue_ (1907) was performed May 10, 1907, after he had begun and rejected 'Horn and Riemenhild' (1892) and 'The Tree of Science' (1899), a greater surprise was in store than upon the occasion when _L'Apprenti Sorcier_ was played for the first time.

Instead of the shrinking figure of the fairy-tale, Ariane is a representative of the feminist movement, if not almost a militant suffragette, who flatly disobeys Bluebeard, opens all the forbidden doors to deck herself with jewels, releases her captive sisters, helps them to free Bluebeard when the infuriated peasants have attacked and bound him, and then returns to her home, leaving her infatuated sisters who have too little imagination to make a decision. Dukas has treated this story in a style that at once admits a coherent and almost symphonic development of motives, and employs a harmonic idiom that profits by all that Debussy has done to extend the whole-tone scale. Dukas does not employ this scale as Debussy has done, but it is obvious that he never would have gone so far if it had not been for his pioneer contemporary. Instead of the translucent orchestra of _Pelléas_, Dukas has employed one that is appropriately far more robust, but which he has nevertheless used with discretion and reserve. He has taken advantage of the discovery of the jewels in the first act to employ coloristic resources lavishly. Despite the complex obligations in the matter of style, Dukas has produced music of a spontaneously decorative and dramatic type, which makes this opera significant among the works of recent years. While _Ariane_ is unequal, the first scene, excellently worked-out ensemble, the close of the first act, the introduction and first scene of the second, and the close of the work cannot be effaced from the records of modern French opera.

In 1910, Dukas had another success with his _poëme dansant, La Péri_, on a scenario of his own, which has been exquisitely interpreted by Mlle. Trouhanova, to whom it is dedicated. Here is a work of the ballet type, which unites felicitously a sense of structure with a gift for atmospheric interpretation. In this respect, _La Péri_ is one of the most satisfactory of Dukas' works, and one in which his encyclopedic knowledge and his imaginative gifts are best displayed.

In addition to his gifts as a composer, Dukas is an editor and critic of distinction. He has retouched some concertos for violin and clavecin by Couperin; he has revised _Les Indes galantes_, _La Princesse de Navarre_ and _Zephyre_ by Rameau for the complete edition of that master's works. He made a four-hand arrangement of Saint-Saëns' _Samson et Dalila_, and together with that distinguished composer finished and orchestrated _Fredegonde_, an opera left incomplete by Guiraud at his death. In addition, Dukas' articles for the _Revue Hebdomadaire_ and the _Gazette des Beaux Arts_ display erudition and the clairvoyant judgment of the born critic.

Thus, although attaching himself to no one group exclusively, Dukas has, by his capacity for architectural treatment of instrumental forms and his atmospheric gift in dramatic characterization, attained a position of dignity and individual expression.

V

It is not within the province of this chapter to be all-inclusive, but merely to recognize the achievement of the more notable figures. In consequence a brief mention of some composers of lesser stature, and a slight enlargement upon two of the more distinguished, will suffice to account for present-day activity. There are, however, two precursors of modern French music, who from the circumstances of their lives and talent have not reached the fruition which they might have deserved. The first of these, Ernest Fanelli, for thirty years lived the life of an obscure and impoverished musician, playing the triangle in a small orchestra, accompanying at cafés, laboring as a copyist. By mere chance, Gabriel Pierné discovered in 1912 an orchestral work, the first part _Thebes_, a symphonic poem founded on Théophile Gautier's _Roman de la Mome_, composed 1883-87. The music was found to have anticipated many harmonic effects of a later idiom including a fairly developed whole-tone system. Other works like the _Impressions Pastorales_ (1890), some _Humoresques_ and a quintet for strings entitled _L'Ane_ show their composer to have poetic and descriptive gifts, whose late revelation is not without pathos. Fanelli can exert no historical influence, but he remains an isolated and belated phenomenon whose temporary vogue is doubtless likely soon to suffer eclipse.

Erik Satie, whose name has been mentioned in connection with Maurice Ravel, and who doubtless was not unsympathetic to Debussy since he orchestrated two of his _Gymnopédies_, was born in 1866 and studied for a time at the Paris Conservatory. But an examination of his music would prognosticate his distaste for that academic institution. He was influenced by the pre-Raphaelites, and by the _Salon de la Rose Croix_ and by the mystical movement in literature generally. His music, chiefly for piano, wavers between an elevated and symbolic mysticism and an ironic and over-strained impressionism. Regarded for years as an eccentric _poseur_ with some admixture of the charlatan, it must now be recognized that he had glimmerings of a modern harmonic idiom and subjective expression in some of its aspects before the generality of modern Parisian musicians. But these qualities were hampered in their development by the ultra-fantastic character of his ideas, and an incapacity for a coherent development of them. He abhors the tyranny of the barline, and many of his pieces have no rhythmical indication from one end to the other, beyond the relative value of the notes. He is also loath to employ cadences, a prophetic glimpse of the future.

Among his earlier works, the _Sarabandes_ (1887), _Gymnopédies_ (1888), incidental music for a drama by Sar Peladan, _Le Fils des Étoiles_ (1891), _Sonneries de la Rose Croix_ (1892), _Uspud_, a 'Christian ballet' with one character (1892), _Pièces froides_ (1897) and _Morceaux en forme de poire_ (1903), by their titles alone indicate the character of their musical substance. The _Gymnopédies_ and the _Sonneries de la Rose Croix_ are interesting for their absence of the commonplace and for suggestions of a poetic vein. The later works dating from 1912 and 1913 have fantastic titles which awake the curiosity only to disappoint it by the contents of the music. _Aperçus désagréable_, _Descriptions automatiques_, _Chapitres tournés en tous sens_ seem deliberately contrived to affront the unwary, and cannot lay claim to any influence beyond their perverse humor, and occassional ironic caricature as in _Celle qui parle trop_, _Danse maigre_ and _Españana_.

Among the many contributors toward the upbuilding of modern French music one must recall the names of Gabriel Pierné for his piano concerto, a symphonic poem for chorus and orchestra, _L'An mil_, the operas _Vendée_, _La Fille de Tabarin_ (1900), the choral works _La Croisade des Enfants_ (1903) and _Les Enfants de Bethlehem_ (1907); Deodat de Sévérac for his piano suites _Le Chant de la Terre_ (1900) and _En Languedoc_ (1904), the operas _Cœur du Moulin_ (1909) and _Heliogabale_ (1910); Gustave Samazeuilh for his string quartet, a sonata for violin and piano, the orchestral pieces _Étude Symphonique d'après 'la Nef'_ and _Le Sommeil de Canope_; Isaac Albéniz, although of Spanish birth associated with French composers;[70] Roger-Ducasse for orchestral works, a 'mimodrame' Orphée, Louis Aubert for a Fantasie for piano and orchestra, songs, a _Suite brêve_ for orchestra and the opera _La Forêt bleue_. In addition the names of Chevillard, Busser, Ladmirault, Henri Rabaud, André Messager,[71] Labey, Casella, and others might be added. A figure of some solitary distinction is Alberic Magnard (died 1914), whose operas _Yolande_, _Guercœur_ and _Bérénice_, three symphonies and other orchestral works, chamber music, piano pieces and songs, show him to be a serious musician who disdained popularity. Associated with the Schola he partook of d'Indy's artistic stimulus without losing his own individuality.

* * * * *

Two composers whose achievements are the strongest of the younger generation are Albert Roussel and Florent Schmitt. The former, born in 1869, entered the navy, and even visited Cochin-China. In 1898 he entered the Schola, where he studied with d'Indy for nine years. Since 1902 he has taught counterpoint at the Schola. His principal works are the piano pieces _Rustiques_ (1904-6), a _Suite_ (1909), a Trio (1902), a _Divertissement_ for wind instruments (1906), a Sonata for piano and violin (1907-08), the orchestral works 'A Prelude,' after Tolstoy's novel 'Resurrection' (1903), _Le poëme de la Forêt_, a symphony (1904-6) and three symphonic sketches, 'Evolutions' (1910-11), the last with chorus, a ballet-pantomine, _Le Festin de l'Araignée_ (1913). Of these the best known are the orchestral works and the ballet. If the symphony suggests many traits of d'Indy, there is in it no lack of individual ideas and treatment. The 'Evolutions' seem far more personal, and in both style and contents convince that Roussel is a genuine creative force. The ballet, 'The Festival of the Spider,' is an ingenious dramatic conception in which the characters are the spider, flies, beetles and worms. The music in its delicate subtlety is ingeniously adapted to the action, and in addition is picturesquely orchestrated with a minimum of resource. Roussel has undergone a long and severe apprenticeship and his later achievements have proved its efficacy.

Florent Schmitt, born 1870, is of Lorraine origin. After some preliminary study, he entered the Paris Conservatory in 1889. Dubois and Lavignac were his first teachers; subsequently he joined the classes of Massenet and Gabriel Fauré. Leaving the Conservatory to undergo his military service, he obtained a second _prix de Rome_ in 1897. In 1900 he was awarded the first prize with the cantata _Semiramis_. After his prescribed stay at the Villa Medicis in Rome, Schmitt travelled to Germany, Austria and Hungary and even Turkey.

Schmitt has been a prolific composer and space will not permit a consideration of all his works. Those upon which his rising reputation rests are a _Quintette_ for piano and strings (1905-08), the 47th Psalm for solo, chorus, orchestra and organ (1904) and two symphonic poems, _Le Palais hanté_ after Poe, and _La Tragédie de Salomé_ (1907), in its original form danced as a _drame muet_ by Loie Fuller. In addition are many piano pieces for two and four hands, and for two pianos, songs and choruses.

In Florent Schmitt's music is to be found alike the solid contrapuntal workmanship of the Conservatory and the atmospheric procedures of Debussy. These are combined with a striking homogeneity and a dominating force that make Schmitt perhaps the most promising figure among French younger musicians of to-day. If this praise must be qualified, it must be acknowledged that he is overfluent, and that the triviality of many of his ideas is only saved by his extraordinary skill in treating them. In this respect his resourcefulness is surprising and well-nigh infallible. The massive architectural quality of the quintet, the barbaric splendor of the 47th Psalm,[72] and the passionate and sinister mood of _La Tragédie de Salomé_ make these works significant of the future even in the face of previous achievements by his older contemporaries.

If this survey of modern French composers seem oversanguine in its assertions, even the most conservative critic must admit that their work within the last thirty years has possessed a singularly unified continuity. Striving deliberately to attain racial independence, the various composers have attained their end with a unity of achievement which is not surpassed in modern times. Whether following the counsel of the naturalized Franck, or heeding the iconoclastic tendencies of Chabrier, Fauré and Debussy, and the realistic aspirations of Bruneau and Charpentier, the impressions of Ravel with its added graphic touches of realism, French music has had a distinctive style, a personal explanation of mood and a racial individuality such as it has not shown since the days of Rameau. The question as to its durability may be raised, as has been done in many epochs and countries, but its position in the immediate past, and in certain aspects of the present, leaves no doubt as to its conviction and its import.

E. B. H.

FOOTNOTES:

[61] Louis Laloy Monograph on Debussy, Paris, Dorbon ainé, 1909, p. 12.

[62] Laloy: _op. cit._ p. 52.

[63] Ibid., pp. 20-21, 24-26.

[64] Quarter-note.

[65] Boston Symphony Orchestra Program-book Dec. 21st, 1904.

[66] Roland Manuel: _Maurice Ravel et son œuvre_ (1904), pp. 8 _et seq._

[67] Quoted by Octave Séré from _La Revue Blanche_, May 15, 1901.

[68] Octave Séré: _Musiciens français d'aujourd'hui_, p. 101.

[69] _Cours de Composition, Deuxième Livre, Première Partie_, p. 331.

[70] See pp. 405f.

[71] Messager, b. 1853, is most widely known for a number of charming operettas, continuing the traditions of Offenbach and Lecoq, of which _Véronique_ (1898), also produced in America, is probably the best. His most worthy contemporary in this department is Robert Planquette (1850-1903), whose _Les Cloches de Corneville_ ('Chimes of Normandy') is perennially popular.

[72] The 46th in the French Bible.

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