Gounod (1818-1893) stands as the most illustrious recent representative of lyric opera. Like Thomas, he was strongly influenced by contemporaneous German progression, but in some ways Gounod exhibits greater conservatism and again greater license than Thomas. This composite style of writing is undoubtedly due to the fact that Gounod diligently studied the works of two composers of differentiated views—Berlioz and Schumann, allowed himself further to be influenced by Weber and Wagner, and yet accepted in a measure the prevailing Gallic conventionalities of his day as well as the traditions inherited from Meyerbeer. Compared with Meyerbeer, however, Gounod possessed a far keener insight into those essentials that lead to the construction of a genuine music drama. Not that Gounod's operas embody such essentials to a degree sufficient to dignify them with the title of music dramas, for they lack structural continuity, contain an over-abundance of set arias, are frequently guilty of harboring superficially composed accompaniments, and betray carelessly developed inner details. On the other hand, Gounod displays a rare gift for melody and euphony, his feeling for genuine expression and characterization is sincere, the tone-colors are admirably adapted to the requirements of the situation, and his thematic development toward some ultimate climax is often superb. In a word, Gounod stands midway between the classical and the popular. His music is not quite pure, being tainted by a suggestion of the sentimental and of the chanson style. In the art of orchestration, however, Gounod exhibits the unusual attribute of attaining excellent results without apparent effort. His scoring may not disclose material increase of orchestral resources, since it follows the general path indicated by Auber and Meyerbeer; but it further shows that he possessed a considerable knowledge of the German science of instrumentation which he used to good advantage. The lyric operas "Faust," "La Reine de Saba," "Roméo et Juliette," as well as the oratorios "Mors et Vita" and "The Redemption" abound in interesting instrumental details and clever orchestral devices. Not only are the vocal parts admirably supported and characterized, but the orchestra also frequently reveals hidden emotions and passions of the stage characters by means of subtle thematic reminiscences from earlier scenes. This suggestive trait is pointedly illustrated in "Faust" when the muted violins break in upon Marguerite's vain attempt to pray, with the dainty waltz theme of her former joyous days. Another striking feature of Gounod's orchestration is its refinement, and as already intimated, few have excelled him in ability to procure rich effects with comparatively simple means. Thus the "Redemption" is scored for but eight instruments of wood, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, kettle-drums, bass-drum, cymbals, together with strings and organ. Even when the organ is silent, the results are remarkably full and sonorous in spite of the absence of triplets of wood instruments, of English horn, of bass-clarinet, of bass-tuba, and of the harp. In all of Gounod's works it will be found that particularly the brasses are made to yield soft harmonies of limpid purity, whereas the instruments of percussion are reserved to reproduce novel and picturesque effects. Incidental mention must further be made of his free use of the harp, as illustrated, for example, by the slow scale for that instrument in the middle of the introduction to "Faust."
Saint-Saëns[83] (1835), greatest of living French composers and mightiest of her orchestral exponents after Berlioz, is assuredly a modern composer in the full sense of that expression. Yet the background of his principles differs but slightly from those of Thomas and Gounod. Plainly in evidence are the outlines of Meyerbeer's operatic forms, in spite of Saint-Saëns' obvious desire to break away from recognized models. On the other hand, the suppression of detached numbers and the adherence to representative and guiding themes disclose his involuntary leanings toward the doctrines of the Bayreuth master, notwithstanding his openly avowed avoidance of such intentions beyond the willingness to accept the advanced spirit of the age. But as to this, it has even been claimed that Saint-Saëns was the first French master to apply Wagnerian principles, even though doing so with discretion. Finally, this peerless contemporary seems to have appropriated to himself all the virtues of eclectic orchestration without one mitigating vice, and crowns this achievement with the indelible impress of his own intensely original individuality to an extent that is verily epoch-making in the history of orchestral evolution. The dual aspect of his symphonic works presents a unique contrast, displaying, as it does, their author's versatility. Saint-Saëns has expressed himself both in symphonies and in symphonic poems. There are four of each on record. Of the former, that in C minor may be looked upon as the most interesting. It contains no programmatic idea, and at first sight would appear to embody a departure from classic form in that it is laid out in two grand divisions. Closer scrutiny, however, reveals a faithful adherence to accepted usage, for the first division contains an introduction, an allegro, and an adagio, whereas the formal structure of the second division can be analyzed into what are in reality a scherzo and a finale. Reminiscent themes and episodes from the first division reoccur in the second, in order to give coherence and organic unity to the work as a whole. Another interesting feature of this symphony is the adaptation of Wagner's "Lohengrin" methods for the wood-wind. The score also includes parts for organ as well as for pianoforte. The four symphonic poems are none of them of the same magnitude and significance as those of Liszt; but just as Liszt's form is simpler and more readily to be grasped than that of Berlioz, so Saint-Saëns' formal structure may be regarded as advancing yet further, if clearness and compactness be the desired objective. "Phaéton"[84] and "Le rouet d'Omphale"[85] display marvellous skill in scoring; "La jeunesse d'Hercule"[86] is the most elaborate, whereas the "Danse Macabre"[87] is the most characteristic as well as the most popular. Saint-Saëns' chamber music affords an interesting study in diversity of style between it and that of his eminent contemporary, Brahms. Both styles display a master's touch, but Saint-Saëns' chamber music is conspicuous for its simplicity of treatment and admirable clearness. He has given still further proof of versatility in a series of memorable concertos. Had Saint-Saëns been content to write nothing beyond such sterling instrumental works as just referred to, his reputation would not have suffered. But the full strength of his greatness reveals itself in attainments of still wider significance. In addition to several oratorios, including the so-called Biblical opera "Le Déluge," no less than nine operas must be accredited to his pen, and of these, "Samson et Dalila" looms up as the ideal embodiment of Saint-Saëns' highest creative genius. Lofty imagination, naturalness of expression and dramatic intensity join in making this opera his greatest masterpiece. Unique is the opening chorus for the captive Hebrews in oratorio style, whereas the ballet in the last act presents an effective adaptation of the peculiar Eastern scale. The orchestration is elaborate, rich and varied,—intricate without being obtuse. Saint-Saëns wields his large orchestral forces with unerring judgment; the score abounds in effects now scintillating or impassioned, now melancholy or heroic. The addition to the usual couplets of wood-wind of a third flute, an English horn, a bass-clarinet and a contra-bassoon again demonstrates the indispensability of triplets of related instruments. Opportunity for obtaining pure tone-color in independent harmony from each family of the brass is effected by employing four horns, by the union of two trumpets and two cornets, by adding to the three trombones a bass-tuba, and by making further requisition for two opheicleides, which together with the bass-tuba are capable of independent deployment. The strings are reënforced by two harps. The array of instruments of percussion would appear rather formidable; nevertheless, they are never used aggressively. This group includes three kettle-drums, a bass-drum, cymbals, tam-tam, a triangle, a Glockenspiel, a tambour de basque, and crotales or castagnettes made of wood and iron. May Saint-Saëns live to enthrall the world a second time with a work that shall rival if not surpass in beauty the rare seductive charm of "Samson et Dalila"!
No opera has won greater universal popularity than that which has immortalized the name of its author, Bizet (1838-1875). What is more, this unreserved approval is merited and will endure. An elaborate discussion of his style would be futile; every professional, every amateur is thoroughly familiar with it. The prevalent custom of French composers to build upon French traditions, but to allow German truthfulness of expression and interpretation to dominate their works was consistently followed by Bizet. The complaint has been made that the traditional disconnected forms of "Carmen" hamper the dramatic action of an otherwise perfect creation. Continuity of music might, perhaps, enhance its already unexcelled effectiveness, but such questionable criticisms are indeed paltry in the face of such melodic and harmonic originality, such dramatic intensity, such orchestral color! Bizet's skill in discovering novel traits of instrumentation was little short of marvellous. The orchestra prepares, accompanies, and moralizes upon the action. There is a wealth of rhythm and color; absolutely truthful characterization and the finest of feeling for artistic details are revealed on every page. It is to be regretted that "L'Arlésienne" has not been considered worthy of more frequent performance. Though its libretto cannot be compared with that of "Carmen," Bizet's setting of "L'Arlésienne" is in some respects more artistic than that of his masterpiece. Its orchestration is practically inseparable from the drama itself, whereas a considerable portion of "Carmen" can be given on the concert stage with good effect. Parenthetically it might be added that the former work contains in its prelude a highly ingenious solo for the rarely heard saxophone.
In the repertoire of a few progressive European stages is to be found a work of exceptional genius entitled "Gwendoline" by Emmanuel Chabrier (1841-1894). So highly imaginative and poetical are its attributes as to warrant the assertion that "Gwendoline" is the best recent French opera, if not the most advanced exposition of existing Franco-German music dramas. No less an authority than Reyer, was, in spite of his usually conservative views, moved to criticise this masterpiece in the following favorable terms: "Je me trouve en présence d'une oeuvre extrêmement intérressante, renfermant des pages superbes et qui dans ses parties les moins saillantes, porte quand même la griffe puissante d'un compositeur admirablement doné." Chabrier did not devote himself seriously to music until he was nearly forty years of age. Shortly before deciding to become a professional, he had been quite successful with an opéra-bouffe called "L'Étoile." "Gwendoline," however, developed at one stroke his dormant creative powers in a manner truly remarkable. (Charming though inconsistent is the adaptation of an Irish melody in one of the most picturesque scenes.) An enthusiast for Wagner, Chabrier nevertheless branched out into a style that is distinctly his own. The libretto of "Gwendoline" may, perhaps, bear some resemblance to "Der Fliegende Holländer" and to "Lohengrin." Gwendoline's recital of her dream in the first act is suggestive of Senta's, whereas in the second act, the love scene after the pagan marriage ceremony recalls the similar episode between Elsa and Lohengrin. Not so with the music. Striking originality, daring harmonic innovations, and above all marvellous skill in orchestral treatment constitute the distinctive features of Chabrier's individuality. The present writer has had opportunity for studying the manuscript score of "Gwendoline" after its revision by the eminent Bayreuth and Munich director, Hermann Levi. Judging from previously heard performances, there had been pictured a monumental accumulation of black notes and an intricate web of interwoven polyphony. These expectations were not justified. Needless to say that the instrumentation is not that of a Mozart, nor are the usual complicated and massive resources of modern orchestration lacking at the necessary moment. On the other hand, the reticence displayed during most of the accompanying polyphony to the vocal parts rivals that of Wagner's highest attainment as embodied in the first act of "Die Walküre." Effects that suggest to the listener the union of peculiar composites of tone-color, resolve themselves on paper to perhaps a few simple chords for flutes in their low range, extending across the entire page; or again to the gentle undulations of muted strings deployed in keys of many signatures, whereby subdued and grayish tints are procured. Chabrier's orchestration suggests a progressive yet peculiar phase of Wagnerism enveloped by a tinge of melancholy and softened by the delicate touch characteristic of the French. Masculine scoring as embraced in the rather brutal overture is the exception rather than the rule. The first act of a second unfinished music drama entitled "Brisëis" was edited a few years ago by Levi, but in spite of its undeniable originality, it proved a disappointment to the present writer. Chabrier further wrote a comic opera: "Le Roi malgré Lui," which, though daintily scored, is also inferior to his masterpiece. The orchestral rhapsody "España" with its wonderful exhibition of skilful instrumentation constitutes his only really popular work, but it is to be hoped that the time may not be far distant when the musical world shall awake to the significance of "Gwendoline."
In marked contrast to the limited appreciation shown for Chabrier's eminent accomplishments is the universal fame enjoyed by Massenet (1842) during his lifetime. Essentially a dramatic writer, the latter has tried his hand at both comic and grand opera. Of the former, "Manon" is a general favorite; of the latter, wide-spread interest has been excited by "Hérodiade," "Le Cid," and "Werther." The music to De Lisle's "Les Erinnyes" deserves notice if for no other reason than the peculiar antique coloring that permeates the orchestration. Massenet possesses above all a highly developed feeling for sensuous charm. His style is distinctly poetic and presents no exception to the prevailing custom of embodying both the guiding theme idea as well as the more general philosophical and orchestral principles of Wagner. Unreserved acceptance of such theorems in their extreme phase reveals itself in the recently presented "Werther." Much of Massenet's harmonic treatment displays undeniable traits of originality, and his scoring is rich and variated. His activity also as a composer for the concert stage has been untiring, but he is at his best as an operatic writer, nor do his orchestral works approach those of Saint-Saëns. As to this, however, neither has any other modern French composer as yet equalled Saint-Saëns, even though several younger writers, and notably Debussy, are successfully demonstrating possibilities quite beyond the scope of Saint-Saëns' achievements. Of Massenet's orchestral works, the most important to be recorded are the two suites, the "Hungarian" and the "Scènes pittoresques," besides the overture to Racine's "Phèdre." This last is undeniably Massenet's representative concert piece, embodying as it does virile force, impassioned sentiment and exceptional orchestration.
V.
As in Germany so in France has the array of sterling composers belonging to the nineteenth century assumed such extensive proportions that the historian's well-meant intentions to be concise are in danger of being frustrated. Only with regret can the temptation to search for further indications of orchestral innovations be set aside. On the other hand, one is obliged to concede that the recent progress of French instrumentation is entirely due to the series of eminent composers with which we have just been occupied, nor has the art of orchestration advanced as yet beyond that of Saint-Saëns and of Chabrier, unless we accept the efforts of Debussy as rich in promise as well as in interest. Omitting, therefore, the names of a host of other worthy aspirants, there remains only the seemingly indispensable mention of two secondary composers of recognized merit: Dubois and Paladhile;—of the eminent expounders on orchestration: Gevaërt and Lavoix;—of the literary writers and champions of the new school of thought: Vidal, Benoit and Joncières;—of the organist-composers: Guilmant and Widor;—of the representatives of the fair sex: Augusta Holmès and Cécile Chaminade, together with one of the most recent comets on the dramatic horizon: Gustave Charpentier.
The works of Dubois (1837) bear the stamp of exceptional ability and versatility. In addition to a successful grand opera entitled "Aben Hamet," the list includes an oratorio "Paradise Lost," a ballet "La Farandole," a concert overture "Frithjof," a pianoforte concerto, and several orchestral suites. Paladhile (1844), a pupil of Halévy, has made himself popular with "Mandolinata," besides winning the respect of the professional world in the cosmopolitan field of grand and comic opera, symphonies, masses, and minor works.
By a strange coincidence the three standard expositions of practical instrumentation and æsthetic orchestration are conceived in the French language,—the authors of these works being, of course, Berlioz, Gevaërt and Lavoix. Gevaërt (1828) merits the reputation not only of a musical savant but of a prolific composer as well. His "Nouveau Traité de L'Instrumentation" is not only a worthy sequel to Berlioz's, but has to a great extent actually displaced it. Of an entirely different stamp but equally indispensable to the student of orchestral evolution is the comprehensive "Histoire de L'Instrumentation" by Lavoix (1846). Further eulogistic comments upon these world-renowned treatises would seem superfluous.
The literary writer, Vidal (1820), must also be mentioned as an authority in one branch of instrumentation by virtue of his voluminous work entitled "Les Instruments à archet." It contains an admirable account of stringed instruments as well as of their makers, their performers, their composers. Benoit (1834) is identified with the advancement of musical art in Flanders, and the nature of his teachings emphasizes his strong Germanic convictions. He set to music several Flemish melodramas, but is especially to be commended for an essay on "L'École de Musique Flamande et son Avenir." The unflinching attitude of Joncières (1839) in favor of the Bayreuth master contributed materially in overcoming both dogmatic and racial prejudice. His literary writings reveal the mind of a keen musical critic, but his compositions lack significance in spite of being extremely modern.