The opinion of one artist concerning another is ever interesting, and the following words of Hans von Bulow, written in 1859, will give an idea of the esteem in which the great German pianist held his French colleague: "There does not exist a monument of art of whatsoever country, school, or epoch, that Saint-Saens has not thoroughly studied.

When we came to talk about the symphonies of Schumann, I was most astonished to hear him reproduce them on the piano with such an amount of facility and exact.i.tude that I remained dumbfounded in comparing this prodigious memory with my own, which is thought so much of. In talking with him I saw that nothing was unknown to him, and what made him appear still greater in my eyes was the sincerity of his enthusiasm and his great modesty." It must be recollected that at that time Schumann was comparatively little known in France. Testimony of this kind coming from a musician like Hans von Bulow is indeed precious. We have already seen what Auber and Berlioz thought of Saint-Saens, it remains to record the opinions emitted by Wagner and Gounod.

The composer of "Tristan," in a _reunion_ consisting of several French artists who had journeyed to Switzerland to see him, drank to the health of Saint-Saens, whom he qualified as the "greatest living French composer."

Gounod has never lost an opportunity of expressing his admiration for his friend's wonderful gifts, and has recorded his appreciation of the surprising versatility so often exhibited by Saint-Saens in the following words: "He could write at will a work in the style of Rossini, of Verdi, of Schumann, or of Wagner."

Mons. Edouard Schure has endeavoured to trace the musical physiognomy of Saint-Saens in the following lines, occurring in the preface written by him to the interesting "Profils de Musiciens" of Mons. Hugues Imbert: "Personne ne possede plus a fond la science technique de la musique, personne ne connait mieux les maitres, de Bach jusqu'a Liszt, a Brahms, et Rubinstein, personne ne manie plus habilement toutes les formes vocales et instrumentales. Mons. Saint-Saens peut dire: 'Rien de musical ne m'est etranger.' Il a aborde tour a tour tous les genres et presque avec un egal bonheur. On remarque chez lui une imagination souple et vive, une constante aspiration a la force, a la n.o.blesse, a la majeste.

De ses quatuors, de ses symphonies se detachent des echappees grandioses, des fusees trop vite evanouies. Mais il serait impossible de definir l'individualite qui se detache de l'ensemble de son uvre. On n'y sent pas le tourment d'une ame, la poursuite d'un ideal. C'est le Protee multiforme et polyphone de la musique. Essayez de le saisir; le voila qui se change en sirene. Vous etes sous le charme? Il se metamorphose en oiseau moqueur. Vous croyez le tenir enfin? mais il monte dans les nuages en hypogriffe. Sa nature propre perce le mieux en certaines fantaisies spirituelles d'un caractere sceptique et mordant comme la 'Danse Macabre' et le 'Rouet d'Omphale.'"

Saint-Saens is no stranger to us. His visits to London have been frequent, and his cantata, "The Lyre and the Harp," was composed expressly for the Birmingham Festival of 1879. This very year, 1893, the University of Cambridge has paid homage to the greatness of the musician by conferring upon him the honorary degree of Doctor of Music. His first appearance in London was at the Musical Union in 1871. He played at Philharmonic Concerts in 1874 and 1879, choosing Beethoven's concerto in G on the first occasion, and his own concerto in G minor on the second.

He has also been heard at the Crystal Palace, and this year (1893) he again appeared at a Philharmonic Concert, playing the same concerto in G minor of his own composition, and conducting his symphonic poem, "Le Rouet d'Omphale." During one of his visits to London, some ten or twelve years ago, he met with an accident that might have had fatal results. He fell through an open trap-door, and received serious injuries to his back, from which he did not recover for a long while. Having promised to take part in an arrangement for eight hands of his "Marche Heroque,"

at a concert given by Sir Julius Benedict, he somehow contrived to get on to the platform and perform his task, but when it came to acknowledge the applause of the audience he was unable to bend forward or bow, and had to slide off as best he could. As a pianist, Saint-Saens may be cla.s.sed in the very first rank. His execution is prodigious, and his lightness of touch quite unique. He is, perhaps, heard at his best when interpreting Bach, with whose works he is as intimately acquainted as any living musician.

Unfortunately, he now seriously contemplates giving up performing in public, not feeling anxious to continue after his powers are on the wane. The reason he alleges will scarcely be accepted as a good one, for so far there has been no falling off whatever in his execution. What is more likely is that he finds he has no time to practise. As a matter of fact he now rarely touches the instrument, and a paragraph that recently appeared in a paper to the effect that he was in the habit of practising all day long, caused him to indulge in a prolonged fit of merriment. In his humorous way--for Saint-Saens is a humorist, _comme il y en a peu_--he told me that he considered that an executant should know how to stop in time, and that he was not desirous of emulating the example of certain artists who went on giving concerts until they had completed their allotted span of life, and were capable, even after their demise, of finding sufficient strength to announce a "posthumous recital."

In the course of his eventful career Saint-Saens has had some amusing experiences of the stupidity of those amateurs who pretend to be musical, and whose knowledge may be put down at zero. The d.u.c.h.ess de C---- once expressed the desire to hear him perform some strictly cla.s.sical music. A party was organised, and none were invited but those whose musical proclivities were known to be of a serious order.

Saint-Saens seated himself at the piano, and asked the d.u.c.h.ess de C----, who was by his side, what she would wish him to play. There was a pause, the d.u.c.h.ess thought deeply, and suddenly turning towards him, said she would so like to hear _the Miserere from the "Trovatore."_

On another occasion he was asked by a lady who was giving a party to play something that would not be too difficult of comprehension. "Play a piece suitable for a pack of donkeys," she said. As it happened, Saint-Saens had just got up a "fantasia" upon Bellini's "Casta diva,"

one of those drawing-room show pieces utterly devoid of any musical value; so he expressed himself ready to provide the required article.

The evening arrived; he sat down at the piano and duly went through his fireworks. The moment the piece was at an end, up jumped a gentleman, who was profuse in his expressions of delight, and warmly clasping the hostess's hand, exclaimed: "I am sure you got him to play this beautiful piece for _my_ benefit!"

Having remarked at the beginning of this sketch that Saint-Saens had distinguished himself as a composer in every branch of his art, I will endeavour to allude briefly to those amongst his works that have contributed the most to ensure him the supremacy he now occupies amongst the musicians of his country, a supremacy which is practically uncontested, if only for the reason of the universality of his gifts.

Whereas other composers occupy, perhaps, an equal or even superior rank in some particular line, there is not one who has shown himself capable of shining in conspicuous fashion in so many varied styles. Mons.

Gauthier Villars, in a clever article upon the composer, has remarked that there exist in Camille Saint-Saens "three men--three temperaments that influence one another. There is an 'absolute' musician, a dramatic musician, and a critic, whose polemics are always erudite, frequently witty, occasionally bitter and violent." These words will serve in a great measure to explain certain apparent inconsistencies that are noticeable in the composer's works. A thorough master of every technical detail of his art, a contrapuntist of unsurpa.s.sed excellence, a musician endowed with a prodigious facility of production, Camille Saint-Saens has not always been able to keep his productivity within due bounds. His sureness of hand enables him to complete a work in so short a time that he has not invariably given proof of that spirit of concentration which shows itself in the compositions of some masters.

With Saint-Saens it is the impulse of the moment that compels him to compose in one style or another. This will account for the fact that if in some cases his works betray a want of inspiration, yet they rarely smell of lamp oil, or seem unduly laboured. He is essentially a _fantaisiste_, careless of any preconceived plan, but exhibiting a wondrous command of musical resources, and a complete grasp over his subject. The themes he employs may sometimes lack character or distinction, yet no one knows better than he does how best to treat them, and by ingenious transformations to render them interesting. This applies more especially to his chamber music, of which the piano trio in F, op. 18, the piano quartet, op. 41, and the septet for trumpet, piano, and strings, op. 65, are perhaps the best examples. In these compositions the cla.s.sical turn of mind, to which a happy admixture of modern elements lends additional charm, is very noticeable. This peculiar combination of the cla.s.sical and the romantic is a special characteristic in the works of Saint-Saens, and is found in the majority of his productions. Ja.n.u.s-like, he keeps one side of his head turned towards Bach, Handel, and Beethoven, whilst he finds means with the other of gazing at Liszt, Wagner, and Gounod. These masters have exercised a very marked influence upon his style.

The simplicity of treatment and perfect clearness in the workmanship noticeable in his chamber music, form a distinct contrast to the complexities indulged in by that section of the modern German school represented by Brahms. The perfectly balanced nature of his mind, and his predilection for works of cla.s.sic proportions, prevent Saint-Saens from ever falling into any musical aberrations of intellect. At the same time, he rightly considers that new forms in music do not necessarily imply formlessness, as some people appear to imagine, and in his larger orchestral compositions he has ever displayed a tendency to avoid recognised models. His four symphonic poems ill.u.s.trate the dual nature of his talent as much as any of his productions. If in these we miss the powerful grandeur of Liszt, we find in its stead a clearer and more compact method of expression.

These four works const.i.tute one of the most abiding t.i.tles to the composer's fame. They also offer an opportunity of discussing a question over which there has been much controversy--viz., the position occupied by so-called "programme music" in contradistinction to "absolute music."

The partisans of musical reaction, who are ever doing their utmost to stifle any attempt at emanc.i.p.ation from routine, and place every obstacle in the way of true progress, have often directed their sneers against this particular form of art. It is difficult to understand the reason that actuates them when they try all they can to shut the doors upon the efforts of musicians whose only desire is to serve the cause of true art to the best of their ability. These dogmatic pedants would lead one to believe that "programme music" is the product of our degenerate age, invented by musicians barren of inspiration, eagerly clutching at anything enabling them to earn even a fict.i.tious reputation.

In reality, "programme music," in some form or other, has existed for many generations.

Kuhnau, the precursor of Bach, has left a sonata intended to describe the fight between David and Goliath. Bach himself has not disdained the "form" in question. His capriccio on the departure of a friend, with its differently labelled parts, comes distinctly under the above denomination.

It is as well though, in dealing with this subject, to draw a distinction between purely imitative and descriptive music. Whereas the former exemplifies a puerile, and necessarily inferior, form of art, the latter is susceptible of serving the n.o.blest ends.

It stands to reason that a musical imitation of physical sounds must necessarily fall short of the reality.

A single clap of thunder will produce more effect than all the symphonic thunderstorms that have ever been composed, with all due deference to Beethoven and Rossini. Haydn has attempted to imitate all manner of sounds in the "Creation," from the bounding of a deer to the falling of snow! These things fail to do more than provoke a smile. Music should act by suggestion rather than actual imitation. At the same time, a composer should not be denied the use of any device calculated to aid his inspiration, or to enable him to enlarge the domain of art by the employment of new or little used formulas.

Beethoven and Mendelssohn have both given the sanction of their names to "programme" music, and the example shown by the composers of the "Pastoral" symphony and the "Hebrides" overture ought to be sufficient to silence the objections of the partisans _quand meme_ of "absolute"

music.

In an admirable article upon the "Symphonic Poems" of Liszt, Saint-Saens has dealt fully and conclusively with the matter, and I cannot do better than reproduce the French master's own words, which have the advantage also of drawing attention to the great and still imperfectly recognised merits of Liszt as a composer. After laying stress upon the fact that Liszt had dared to break with the traditions regulating the symphonic form, and had by this shown a greater amount of boldness than Weber, Mendelssohn, Schubert, or Schumann, he proceeds to discuss the principle of "programme music" in the following terms:

"To many people, 'programme music' is a necessarily inferior _genre_. A quant.i.ty of things have been written upon this subject that I find it impossible to understand. Is the music in itself good or bad? Everything lies there. Whether it be or not accompanied by a programme, it will be neither better nor worse. It is exactly as in painting, when the subject of a picture, which is everything for the vulgar, is nothing or is but little for the amateur. There is yet more: the reproach made against music of expressing nothing of itself, without the help of words, applies equally to paintings. A picture will never represent Adam and Eve to a spectator who does not know the Bible; it will only represent a naked man and woman in a garden. And yet the spectator, or listener, will lend themselves easily to this deception, which consists in adding to the pleasure of the eyes or ears the interest or emotion of a subject. There is no reason to refuse them this pleasure, neither is there any compelling one to grant it. The liberty in the matter is complete; the artists profit by it, and they are right. What is undeniable is that the taste of the public at the present epoch tends towards the picture with a distinct subject and towards music with a programme, and that the taste of the public, at least in France, has drawn artists in this direction. 'Programme music' is, for the artist, only a pretext to explore new tracks, and new effects require new means."

Saint-Saens has put his theory into practice with considerable success in the four symphonic poems ent.i.tled "Le Rouet d'Omphale," "Danse Macabre," "Phaeton," and "La Jeunesse d'Hercule." Fundamentally different the one from the other, each of these compositions comes under the category of descriptive music, and is intended to ill.u.s.trate a special subject. In the "Rouet d'Omphale," the composer has employed the well-known cla.s.sic tale of Hercules at the feet of Omphale as a pretext for ill.u.s.trating the triumph of weakness over strength.

No words can express the art with which the composer has developed his themes, or give an idea of the delicacy of an instrumentation which, gossamer-like, seems to float in an atmosphere of melody.

Perhaps the most characteristic of the four symphonic poems is the well-known "Danse Macabre." This work is suggested by a poem of Henri Cazalis, the first verse of which runs thus:

"_Zig et zig et zag, la mort en cadence Frappant une tombe avec son talon La mort a minuit joue un air de danse Zig et zig et zag, sur son violon._"

The hour of midnight is heard to strike, and Death is supposed to perform a weird and ghastly dance, which grows wilder and wilder, until the c.o.c.k having crowed, the excitement gradually subsides, and quiet reigns once more.

The way in which Saint-Saens has succeeded in musically depicting the above story is intensely original and masterly. The general plan of the piece is perfectly clear and logically worked out. The two themes upon which it is constructed are admirably adapted for the purpose, and susceptible of being employed together with striking effect. There is a certain pa.s.sage which produces the uncanny impression of the wailing of an unhealthy night wind through the trees of a churchyard. In order to give an imitation of the rattling of bones, Saint-Saens has made use of the xylophone. A curious detail to be noted is the introduction, in a species of burlesque manner, of the "Dies Irae," transposed into the major and converted into a waltz, to which the skeletons are supposed to dance. Strikingly original and ingenious is the effect of the "solo"

violin, with its string tuned to E?, producing a diminished fifth on the open strings A and E?, which, being reiterated several times, conveys a peculiar sensation of weirdness. The "Dance Macabre" has contributed largely to spread its author's reputation all over Europe. It is undoubtedly one of his most popular works. "Phaeton," op. 39, and "La Jeunesse d'Hercule," op. 50, although less well known, are not the less remarkable. The first of these deals with the well-known story of Phaeton, who has obtained permission to drive the chariot of his father, the Sun, through the skies. His unskilled hands are powerless to retain the steeds. The entire universe is about to perish through the too close proximity of the flaming chariot, when Jupiter strikes the imprudent Phaeton with his thunderbolts. Upon this legend Saint-Saens has constructed a symphonic piece of great descriptive power. The music may indeed be said to tell its own story. A prelude of a few bars describes Phaeton gathering up his reins. He starts, and, presumably, after a preliminary canter, induces the horses to proceed quietly. Suddenly, however, they break away. Vainly does he use all his endeavours to stop them in their frantic course. The catastrophe is nearing, when a formidable crash puts an end to Phaeton and his misplaced ambition.

The instrumentation of "Phaeton" is in itself worth a detailed notice, and is a perfect marvel of ingenuity.

"La Jeunesse d'Hercule" is the most elaborate of the four symphonic poems, and is, perhaps, the least well-known. It attempts to describe the legend of Hercules, who at the outset of life saw two roads open to him, that of pleasure and that of duty. The hero does not allow himself to be swayed by the seductions of nymphs or bacchantae, but resolutely follows the path of struggles and of combats, at the end of which he is to receive the recompense of immortality.

In treating this subject Saint-Saens has given full rein to his imagination, and has shown a complete independence of spirit in the matter of construction. The score of this poetical and original composition will fully repay any amount of study that may be devoted to it. It is, of course, impossible to attempt an a.n.a.lysis of this interesting work in these pages. I would, however, draw the attention of musicians to the wonderfully ingenious manner in which the climax is reached, producing an acc.u.mulative effect of concentrated force bursting through its bonds, evidently descriptive of the final triumph of Hercules.

A symbolic meaning is attached to all these symphonic poems, with the possible exception of the "Danse Macabre," and although they are each professedly intended to describe an actual story, this is only used as a means of suggesting the abstract idea that underlies it.

Saint-Saens has published four pianoforte concertos, the second and fourth of which are the best known. Some years since he told me that he contemplated writing a fifth, but for some reason best known to himself he did not put his project into execution. The second and fourth concertos are two of the most striking examples of the kind that have proceeded from the pen of a modern composer. Why the third should be so persistently neglected is more than I profess to understand, except for the reason that pianists are like the traditional _moutons de Panurge_, and are, as a race singularly dest.i.tute of initiative, preferring to follow on the beaten track sooner than give themselves more trouble than necessary.

The form adopted by Saint-Saens in his second concerto, op. 25, is sufficiently novel. Its first movement is labelled "Andante sostenuto,"

and commences with a long introduction for the piano, somewhat in the style of Bach. The pa.s.sionate melody which succeeds to this, and may be considered as the princ.i.p.al theme of the movement, is, however, quite modern in character. The delightful "Scherzo" and inspiriting "Finale,"

are slightly suggestive of both Weber and Mendelssohn, whilst bearing the distinctive mark of their composer's personality. In his fourth concerto in C minor, op. 44, Saint-Saens has departed still further from the usual model. This work is divided into two sections, which include five changes in the "tempo." A noticeable feature in the concerto is the reintroduction in the last movement of themes previously heard in the first, thus producing a sense of h.o.m.ogeneity.

The fourth concerto is the most ambitious work of the kind that Saint-Saens has written. It is also the best. A few years since, the composer attempted the experiment of performing all four works in succession at a concert given at the St. James's Hall.

Saint-Saens did not make his _debut_ as an operatic composer until he had reached the age of thirty-seven, and then only with a one-act opera-comique, ent.i.tled "La Princesse Jeaune," produced at the Opera Comique Theatre in 1872. This curious little work, the scene of which is laid in China, was not well received and speedily disappeared from the bills. The overture is delightfully quaint, and is occasionally heard at concerts. Now that one-act works are coming into vogue, this delicate little score might well be reproduced.

The reputation acquired by Saint-Saens as a symphonist, and what is known in France as "un musicien savant," had been sufficient to cause any pretension on his part to aspire to the fame of a dramatic composer to be looked upon with suspicion. Added to this, he had the reputation of harbouring feelings of admiration for Wagner, which at that time was quite enough to prevent a manager from producing his works.

An opera ent.i.tled "Le Timbre d'Argent," not to be confounded with Va.s.seur's operetta "La Timbale d'Argent," was written before the war of 1870, and was destined for the Opera Comique Theatre. It was, however, not brought out until 1877, when it was played at the Theatre Lyrique under the direction of Mons. A. Vizentini.

The influence of Gounod is very apparent in this work, and Bizet even found therein certain affinities with Auber which I confess myself unable to discover. One thing certain is, that this opera has but little in common with Wagner. "Le Timbre d'Argent" reveals the hand of the practised musician, but is very unequal as a whole, and does not occupy an important place in the composer's dramatic outfit. A point to note in this opera is the superiority of the orchestral treatment and general workmanship over the melodies, many of which border upon the commonplace.

The same year that "Le Timbre d'Argent" was produced in Paris, the Grand Ducal Theatre of Weimar announced the first performance of a new opera by Saint-Saens, ent.i.tled "Samson et Dalila."

As many consider this the composer's finest dramatic work, and as it is only comparatively recently that its beauties have come to be generally recognised, and that it has been incorporated into the _repertoire_ of the Paris Opera, a short account of the genesis of this remarkable composition may not be out of place, the more so as if will accentuate the difficulties that appear to beset composers and stand in the way of works of the highest merit.

"Samson et Dalila" was begun by Saint-Saens before the year of the Franco-German war.

The second act was tried over in private, when the part of Samson was sung by the ill-fated painter, Henri Regnault, who was destined to be killed a year later, during the war. The "Marche Heroque," composed by Saint-Saens, is dedicated to the memory of the unfortunate artist.

The score of "Samson et Dalila" was terminated towards 1872, and a performance of the second act was given by Madame Viardot at her country-house at Croissy two years later. On this occasion the gifted hostess undertook the part of Dalila, and all who can remember her incomparable method of singing will agree that she must have been an admirable interpretress of the pa.s.sionate accents allotted by Saint-Saens to the heroine of his opera.

The influence of this admirable artist upon French music has been very great. In a volume of verses recently published Saint-Saens thus apostrophises her: