Masters of French Music

by Arthur Hervey

It has always appeared to me to be idle to attempt to impose one's ideas upon the relative merits of a composition on those whose disposition is antagonistic to its due appreciation. There are many to whom the later works of Wagner appear as a senseless agglomeration of notes, devoid of meaning and destitute of feeling, a mere jumble of sound. These people are doubtless absolutely sincere in their convictions. Where is the argument that would cause them to change their minds? If no sympathetic current is generated between the music and the listener, it may be taken for granted that these are not meant one for another, and all the arguments in the world will not alter the fact. On the other hand there can be no doubt that increased familiarity often causes the reversal of a previously expressed opinion, one sometimes formulated in undue haste, and this is especially the case with a work such as "Le Rêve," the tendencies of which are so novel and the methods so uncompromising in their thoroughness.

The composer has boldly flown in the face of recognised traditions and flung all compromise to the four winds. He has treated "Le Rêve" according to his own ideas, careless as to whether these should be agreeable to the vocalist, who looks upon an opera solely as the means of displaying his voice; to the average amateur, whose fondness for a good square tune of doubtful originality is as great as ever; or to the musical pedant who gauges the value of an art-work according to the theoretical ideas of a past generation.

Art and literature have during the last few years been invaded by a strong current of realism. The marked tendency exhibited by the present generation of inquiring minutely into all matters and subjecting them to a searching process of analysis, has been pregnant in its results. The physiology of the mind appears to be the leading factor in the works of many of the lights of contemporary literature. This is discernible in the writings of poets like Swinburne and George Barlow, in the novels of Emile Zola and Alphonse Daudet, and in the studies of Tolstoï, to mention only a few. In music the same tendencies are apparent, and it is rather the inner motives of the action than its outward details that the serious operatic composer is tempted to depict.

Bruneau exemplifies the latest phase of that evolution that has been taking place during recent years in the domain of dramatic music. It may be taken for granted that the theory enunciated by Gluck in his preface to "Alceste" more than a hundred years ago has now come to be universally adopted. This is, that "the true aim and object of dramatic music is to enhance the effect and situations of a poem, without interrupting the dramatic action or marring the effect by unnecessary ornamentation." It is this which forms the basis of Wagner's theories. There are, however, many other points of importance raised by the German master which practically amount to innovations. Of these none has perhaps a greater bearing on the construction of the "lyrical drama" of the future than the employment of leit-motiven, or representative themes.

It has been argued that Wagner can scarcely claim to be the actual inventor of this device.

To this it may be replied that Wagner's method differs essentially from that followed by any of his predecessors. The bare repetition of a phrase previously heard may be dramatically significant, but it only represents the Wagnerian idea in its most embryonic form, and has little in common with a system subject to which an entire opera is constructed upon a certain number of themes susceptible of being modified and transformed according to the sentiments expressed by the words. Whatever objections may be adduced against such a system if pushed to its furthest limits and adopted as rigorously as Wagner has in his later "music dramas," it must be conceded that it opens a large field to the composer and adds a powerful element of interest to the musical exposition of a plot.

So far, French composers who have profited by Wagner's many innovations have shown themselves shy in following the master in this particular one. Some of them have, it is true, adopted it to a certain extent, and endeavoured to effect a compromise by trying at the same time to retain set pieces of the kind associated with the older forms of opera. Saint-Saëns in "Henri VIII." and "Ascanio," Massenet in "Esclarmonde," to name only two, have exhibited a marked tendency in this direction. It has, however, been reserved for Alfred Bruneau to employ the Wagnerian plan in a more complete way than any French composer has yet done. I am not here venturing to express an opinion as to whether or not the total absence of set form in an opera is advisable. It is evidently quite possible to compose a "lyrical drama" on a different plan than one entailing the strict employment of representative themes. Art should comprise every method that is likely to add to its scope, and the use of leit-motiven opens a vista of illimitable possibilities to the composer of the future. It is a powerful agent of dramatic expression, and one which requires musical ability of a very high order if it is to be employed in any profitable manner. When I mention Alfred Bruneau as being perhaps the first French composer who has applied the Wagnerian system so thoroughly in his "lyrical dramas," it must not be implied that he is in any way a servile imitator of the German master, and he must not be confounded with composers who, having no original ideas of their own, trade upon those of other people. As his friend and collaborator Mons. Louis Gallet remarks in his Notes d'un Librettiste, "Son criterium est tout personel." There is one point, for instance, in which he diverges entirely from Wagner. This is in his choice of subjects. Instead of searching for inspiration in the legendary lore so dear to the composer of "Tristan," Bruneau prefers to musically illustrate a story of modern life. His ideas upon the lyrical drama are best expressed in his own words, and I do not scruple to reproduce the following passage from a letter addressed to myself: "Je suis pour l'union aussi intime que possible de la musique et des paroles, et voudrais faire du théâtre vivant, humain et bref. J'aurais aussi l'ambition de traiter une suite de sujets essentiellement Français et modernes d'action comme de sentiments. C'est pourquoi, après 'Le Rêve,' d'un mysticisme bien Français je crois, viendra 'L'Attaque du moulin,' drame pris au cœur saignant de notre pays. Mais la suite n'est qu'un projet que je n'aurai peut-être jamais la force de mettre à exécution."

It is the human element that predominates in Bruneau's compositions which constitutes so powerful a fascination to those who are in sympathy with his ideas. His music is not theatrical in the ordinary acceptation of the term but intensely dramatic, inasmuch as it aims at depicting the innermost details of the action, and describes in searching accents the varied emotions of the leading characters.

He has been blamed for his disregard of the so-called rules of harmony, and for apparently revelling in the employment of discords, strange progressions, and harsh modulations. Let it be remembered that there is scarcely a composer of eminence who has not been subjected to the same reproach. To take a few of the most notable instances, it is only necessary to mention the cases of Schumann, Wagner, Berlioz, and Bizet. A name that may carry conviction even further is that of Beethoven. Is it not a fact that within the memory of some who are still amongst us, the "Choral Symphony" was stigmatised as the work of a genius whose powers were on the wane, and this mighty work was pronounced dull and incoherent?

The question as to how far a composer may go in his search after novel effects, and what discords he may or may not employ, is one that cannot easily be answered. Where is the musician who will have the presumption to erect himself as the supreme arbiter upon so complex a question, and venture to say to the composer, "Thus far shalt thou go and no further?"