The change is gradual, usually not more than half conscious. It would hardly be wrong to say that the whole change, up to a certain point, is accidental. But it is often difficult to study such a transition in its early stages. And the peculiar interest of Fauré’s songs consists in the fact that they enable us to study the whole preliminary transition from the old to the new in French music, in simple terms and in steady development. Fauré was in a sense the laboratory for the new French impressionistic school. His experiments suggested dimly what could be done. His groping achievements showed how one might set about to do it. In his songs, from the earliest to the latest we see in successive stages of development the harmonic procedure of the new school.
What was this change? What distinguished the old school from the new? It is worth while to answer this question briefly before touching Fauré’s work in order to have some touchstone to hold up to the songs when we come to look at them. In general terms the change from the old to the new in French music was a change from the conscious, the deliberate, the intelligent to the subconscious, the subjective, the sensuous. The older composers sought always to appeal in some degree to the hearer’s judgment, to please his sense of design, to speak with chastened clearness. We have often, in the course of this book, had occasion to mention the coldness and conventionality of the French music of the nineteenth century. Now the newer composers reacted against all this and set out to change it. In place of judgment they would have feeling; in place of the brain they would have the nerves. What matter about the sense of design if theeffectwas beautiful? What matter whether or not you adjudge it to be good, so long as you feel it to be good? In the new French music the intelligence can usually go to sleep. Intelligence is in the music (or rather it was in the makingof the music) but it keeps out of sight. All the hearer needs is to surrender himself to the sensations. He needs delicate ears and responsive nerves. If he has these he will get poetry and pictures out of the music in plenty. In other words, it is our old conflict between knowledge and experience, between judging and feeling, between the brain and the senses.
Considered concretely, the change from the old to the new was a change which broke down completely all the old rules of musical harmony. The old harmony is represented at its purest in the chorales of Johann Sebastian Bach. It was a system of harmony based on pure (triad) chords, with dissonances properly prepared and resolved. In the old harmony each chord was like a chiselled block of stone, sharply differentiated from every other; the stones must fit well together, but they must always be distinct. The new system of harmony was founded upon the dissonance used for the sake of its effect on the ear. Queer mixtures of dissonance were used freely to produce an unusual impression on the ear, an impression which soon took on the name ‘color.’ Chords were now merged and confused, instead of being kept distinct. Tonalities and musical ‘keys’ were now becoming meaningless in a system whose notes rarely agreed with any tonality. The whole effect was that of being in a world of pure sensation, a world that seemed to be without reason and was therefore the better adapted to beingfelt. Along with the tendency toward vagueness in harmony came a tendency toward vagueness in melody. Various notes of the ordinary major scale would be altered at the whim of the composer and the surprises resulting were a fruitful source of sensuous effects. This freedom in the use of scales tended toward the now famous ‘whole-toned’ scale—a thing popularly supposed to have been invented by Wagner, but used, in reality, in the early days of Wagner by the RussianDargomijsky. The whole-toned scale makes every interval a whole step, thus robbing the scale of all internal variety and of any tonic or central ‘pivotal’ point. This would seem to rob the scale of its possibilities for color. But curiously enough, it actually increased them. For as long as the scale is strange, our ears will inevitably compare it with the scale with which we are familiar. The result is a constant succession of surprises to our ears and senses—in short an increase in the sensuous element. The newer school also uses the chromatic element to a great extent. In this it was only continuing the work of Wagner in his ‘Tristan.’ But there was this difference: that whereas in Wagner’s procedure the chromatic element was chiefly in the movement of the individual voices, the chords being constituted much as before, in the new French school both the voice leading and the chord building make free use of the semitone. To sum up, the new tendency is characterized concretely by vagueness of chord and of scale (with a continual tendency toward the whole-toned scale); by a free use of unprepared dissonance chosen chiefly for its sensuous effect; and by its constant effort to rid itself of the domination of a set key.
Gabriel Fauré (born 1845) started exactly on a par with the other French song writers of the seventies. His melody was tenuous and colorless; his harmony was thin and regular. Very gradually and very steadily he developed his colorful and unconventional harmony and a type of melody which, without being declamatory, was irregular and intimately fused with the accompaniment. Besides this cautious radical development, Fauré had a fairly generous fund of musical ideas and a sense of form and design superior to that of most of his contemporaries. It is doubtful if any one of his songs could be called first-class in absolute musical value. But his general standard was unusuallyhigh and steady. In nearly every case his songs are finished works of art. His faculty of self-criticism was keen and his attitude toward his art sincere. Though never a man of power, he possessed a lively intelligence which served to make him one of the most important figures in the French musical transition. He was not a pioneer in the more strenuous sense of the word. But he was truly a forerunner.
His earliest songs show little that is distinctive beyond a sensitive feeling for design and proportion. The best of them are ‘May,’ ‘In the Ruins of an Abbey,’ and ‘Alone.’ In the ‘Tuscan Serenade’ we catch perhaps the first definite note of a change. It is a very slight indication, but it is truly a foreshadowing of the development which was destined to be shown in his songs and in all modern French music. The indication we are referring to is in the following phrase:
ilop350
[PNG][[audio/mpeg]
The unconventional note is the G flat. A composer of the previous musical generation would certainly have written G natural. The reason is that a long succession of whole steps is contrary to the spirit of the diatonic scale, upon which the classical musical system is based. The diatonic scale contains two half steps within the octave, thus giving to the succession of notes variety and to the scale itself individuality. The four notes which Fauré here uses are the only four adjacent notes in the scale which do not contain a half step. Even such a sequence without a half step was too long to suit the older composers. This sequence was to them the awkward place in the scale. It was within the letter of the scale but contrary to its spirit. So the older composer would have changed the G flat to G natural and would have felt a distinct gain in grace and fluency. Perhaps Fauré used the G flat only because it was different. He may have started his experiments purely ina search for variety. But he soon saw its possibilities. For this increased use of whole tones develops logically into the whole-toned scale (without any semi-tones and hence without any existence as a tonality). And this whole-toned scale is one of the chief features of the modern French music. But in addition to its melodic significance this bit of unconventionality on Fauré’s part had deep harmonic significance. For if the identity of the diatonic scale is destroyed the whole system of classical harmony falls down. Without a definite scale you have no tonic for your harmony to centre around. And your harmonic scheme loses all its value as a system and reduces to a use of chords for themselves (that is, their sensuous value) or for their relation one with another. When you have done this your whole musical basis has changed and a new musical world has come into being.
This first timid attempt on Fauré’s part was rapidly followed by other experiments, still cautious but logical and continuous in their direction. In the song entitled ‘Lydia’ we have the following opening phrase:
ilop351
Lydia sur tes roses joues Et sur ton col frais
[PNG][[audio/mpeg]
Here the tonality is disturbed not only in the melody but in the harmony also. Without preparation or warning Fauré disregards the half-step (B flat) which would have kept his music true to the diatonic, plunges apparently into a new key. But the change is not truly a modulation; the new key is really not a key. For the persistence of the F in the bass is a foreign element and shows that Fauré was not aiming at modulation at all. What he was aiming at was color. It is significant that the ‘color’ accompanies the wordsroses joues. Thisgentle dislocation of our conventional harmonic sounds like a blush translated into tones. Fauré had discovered modern ‘atmosphere.’
From now on Fauré’s experiments in this sort of thing become more frequent and more radical. In ‘The Absent One’ he uses ordinary suspensions for their atmospheric effect. Other songs of the same period—among which ‘Silvie,’ ‘After a Dream,’ ‘Barcarolle,’ and ‘Over There’ are the best—show traces of the development. ‘Nell,’ in opus 18, shows an increasingly delicate feeling for the inner voices in the accompaniment; the broken chords that support this melody are not a mere harmonic support but a delicate weaving of suggested voices. The ‘Traveller’ shows increased power and vigor. The ‘Lullaby,’ in opus 23 (one of his best songs), shows an attempt to get color by means of regular suspensions and dissonances, secondary seventh chords, and the like, all permitted in the old system but employed here with a special emphasis which is unescapable. ‘The Secret,’ in the same group, shows a similar attempt. TheChanson d’amourin opus 27 should be mentioned in passing.
In opus 39 we find the beautiful song, ‘The Roses of Ispahan.’ Here Fauré uses exactly the same harmonic device that we have pointed out in ‘Lydia,’ but this time with more confidence:
ilop352
Ont un parfum moins frais ont une odeur moins douce
[PNG][[audio/mpeg]
The awkwardness and uncertainty in the former passage is not to be found here. Fauré has discovered his medium. Henceforth he will use it with increasing boldness and success.
The ‘Nocturne’ of opus 43 andLes présentsof opus46 show still more freedom in the use of constantly changing tonality. ‘Tears’ in opus 51 uses the chromatic shift of key almost continuously. But the trick has ceased to be a technical experiment. It has become a means of artistic expression. For this song, along with ‘In the Cemetery,’ shows tragic energy and a moving personal appeal which, as we have seen, had been all but absent from French song for half a century.MandolineandEn Sourdinein opus 58 are songs of consummate artistry and ‘The Prison’ of opus 74 reaches a very high emotional standard. The later songs show Fauré using generously the technical freedom which he so laboriously attained. But the songs are now less interesting. They are too likely to be abstruse without being inspired. Technically they are of extreme interest, but they suggest that Fauré had been left behind by the modern musical movement and was rather breathlessly trying to catch up.
Though Fauré’s songs do not speak with the authority of genius they are extraordinarily fine in their deftness of handling, in their delicacy, in their unfailing sense of artistic fitness. Fauré, among the first of his generation, treated the accompaniment with respect. His piano parts are filled with interesting voices and gently stimulating movement. Each song has its individuality and style. The melody is sometimes truly eloquent, but too often partakes of the colorless nature of contemporary music. In the later songs the voice part is apt to be without much charm or even existence of its own, being only accommodated to the accompaniment. On the whole, though the absolute value of his songs would not justify the relative space we have here devoted to them, they reveal a sensitive and thorough craftsmanship which French music had too long been without.
Emmanuel Chabrier (1841-1894) was, with Fauré, one of the great forerunners of the modern French tendency. His service was chiefly performed in the field of orchestral coloring, but his songs show the influences of the new technique and are of much value in themselves. Chabrier was a more vital man than Fauré. His abundant animal spirits can be felt in all his music. His musical ideas were not always of much value, but the creative energy of the man is felt always. He was a great practical joker and has written some of the most delightful humorous songs we have. Three of his animal songs in particular are worth study. ‘The Grasshoppers’ makes continual use of the interval of the diminished second, lightly played in arpeggio chords on the piano, to suggest the chirping and rattling which we hear on a summer night. The melody, too, is extremely graceful. ‘The Pigs’ Pastoral’ suggests the animals’ grunts and offers even more dignified points of technical interest. The ‘Villanelle of the Little Ducks’ is a masterpiece. The charming words by Rosemonde Gérard (later the wife of the poet Rostand) are caught with absolute fidelity by the composer. The dignity, the absolute soldier-like seriousness of the little birds is inimitably suggested and the clear and richly varied accompaniment shows a musicianship of a high order. The simple ‘Romance of the Star’ reveals the genuine lyric ability of the composer and his colorful romanticism is shown in the ‘Song for Jeanne’ and ‘The Happy Island.’ Chabrier’s songs show admirable energy and resourcefulness. As a practical joker the man can hardly be surpassed.
Among the pioneers of modern French music César Franck (1823-1890) holds the highest place of all. His profound musicianship, his open-mindedness, his strain of religious mysticism in the service of his highpersonal integrity, produced results than which French music can show nothing more admirable. A large number of the most eminent modern French composers were his pupils and their daring (though various) individualities show that his teaching was really a stimulation and nourishment of artistic power, not an imparting of rules. His songs (at least the later ones, which are all that interest us here) are few, but among them are several which are artistically flawless. The melody of ‘The Marriage of the Roses’[32]has a grace and a cogency which utterly charm the hearer. ‘The Bells of Evening’ and ‘The Procession’ have become classics in modern song literature. Technically these songs are not radical. But they make effective use of the new harmonic method, in Franck’s own peculiar and convincing manner.
Four of Franck’s pupils have done fine service in the cause of modern French song. Guillaume Lekeu (1870-1894) was an extremely talented man who would certainly have been one of the greatest of French composers had he lived to artistic maturity. His fine song, ‘On a Tomb,’ proves his creative power and his technical control. Henri Duparc (born 1848) was by birth one of the older generation and his use of the modern harmonies is conservative. Of his numerous songs some are marked by much grace and sensuous beauty, notably ‘Invitation to the Journey,’ theChanson triste, and ‘Ecstasy,’ the last one of the finest songs of the period. Ernest Chausson (1855-1894) showed remarkable talents—energy, individuality, command over romantic expression. In his incomplete career he produced many songs, some of rare charm. But most important of the Franck pupils is Vincent d’Indy, probably the most vigorous creative power in modern French music. In him the intellectual quality dominates all the others. To many his music quite lackscharm. The gentler qualities are absent. There is no obvious appeal to the senses. But his music is extremely stimulating to the musician and if well presented can plead for itself to the general public. His songs are few, but are evidently worked out with great care. Best known is the ‘Sea Song,’ which has a large rhythmic sweep admirably suggesting the swell of the ocean. His arrangements entitledChansons Populaires du Vivarais, though applied to the simplest of musical materials, reveal his intellectual quality of musicianship. A list of his other songs (nearly complete) includes: ‘Thecla’s Complaint,’ ‘Madrigal,’L’Amour de la crane, ‘The First Tooth,’ ‘Mirage,’ and ‘The Eyes of the Beloved One.’ All these songs are fine and musicianly. But their appeal is limited, for many will find them lacking charm and sensuous beauty.
At the present time it is difficult to regard Alfred Bruneau (born 1857) as a pioneer. His style is extremely thin and his melody seems at first glance to be cut from the same piece as Massenet’s. But it is as an innovator that Bruneau is chiefly valued in France. In the early nineties, when Debussy was still an unknown experimenter (a ‘crazy man,’ like all radical innovators in their early years), he was thrilling Paris with his strange, new expressive harmonies, accurately delineating moods and suggesting colors. His operas, to librettos or adaptations from Zola, were a new thing in France. He experimented largely with unconventional harmonies and phrases for the voice which fell into no known category. Paris was at first puzzled, but quickly caught the idea. This was because, while Bruneau’s music was truly an innovation and absolutely in line with the work of the new French school, it wasbased on an idiom that France knew well and was managed so cautiously that the novelties were clear to the audience without being painful. By this time Bruneau seems little more than a composer of a past generation. Yet we must give him full credit for courage, for artistic feeling, and for considerable musical creativeness. His songs are not many. TheLieds de France(words by Catulle Mendès) are simple lyrics somewhat in the older traditional style of French songs, executed with a wealth of the most delicate suggestion of color. ‘The Gay Vagabond’ is in Bruneau’s most typical style—a clear-cut and flowing melody over the simplest of chords, with the unusual features so discreetly written that at first hearing they hardly seem to be there at all.
Paul Vidal (born 1863) is only by courtesy included in the present chapter. He has escaped the curse of the old French school but his talent lies not at all in the field of innovation. He is a born lyricist, spontaneous, fresh, graceful. He is master of more than one style, as his settings of Shakespeare’s lyrics prove. The ‘Winter Song,’ from ‘Love’s Labor Lost,’ preserves a certain archaic flavor that is charming. ThePsaume nuptialis grandiose but not pompous, an invigorating piece of honest music. In the children’s song, ‘The Play Leader,’ Vidal attempts the descriptive, with a liberal use of dissonance and modern harmony, but it is evident that he has no natural turn toward the new style. Yet the song is dainty and picturesque. TheAriette‘Were I a Sunbeam’ and the ‘Address to the Well Beloved,’ as well as a more recent song, ‘Loving,’ are well worth knowing for their simple musicianly beauty, andMadame la féeis a model of delicate lyricism. In his more ambitious mood Vidal is represented by ‘Thine Eyes.’ But he is a composer to whom we turn not for stimulation in technical matters, but for simple beauty. His songs are in that class which canhardly enter into a history at all, but are delightful byways to turn to for mere pleasure.
Gustave Charpentier (born 1860), composer of the world-famous opera ‘Louise,’ has written a handful of songs, some of superior quality. TheChansons à danserare written in imitation of the old French dances, the spirit and the form being caught with keen insight. The best of the group is the ‘Sarabande.’ In theFleurs du malhe is working in more familiar vein—that spirit of intense and somewhat chaotic emotionalism that distinguishes his operas. When we list the fifteenPoèmes chantéswe have named all his songs. Charpentier’s style is modern and genuinely French, but it is sharply distinguished from that of Debussy and Ravel. It is a development of that of Massenet (whose pupil Charpentier was), but it is developed an immense distance beyond ‘Thaïs.’ It contains more of the flesh (and more of the open air) than Debussy ever shows. ‘Atmosphere’ for its own sake enters into his work not at all. Everything is expressive and nearly everything expressive of human emotions. The musical style is admirably adapted to the purpose, choosing from the modern French technique just those elements which it can use. It makes constant use of detached or irregular phrases of melody and these it interweaves in great abundance into the harmonic texture. Charpentier strikes an admirable middle path in modern French music, being neither too intellectual, like d’lndy, nor too technical, like Ravel.
Concerning Claude Debussy (born 1862) the world is not yet decided. At one time he seemed the supreme innovator and the master tone-poet of modern times. Nothing so utterly new had ever come to people’s earssince ‘Tristan,’ or probably since the later symphonies of Beethoven. He was for a number of years the chief spokesman for the ultra-modern to the whole world. For fully ten years he worked away, striving for the vision he had before him, until recognition finally came. From this very fact we may assume that he is an entirely sincere artist and not a charlatan as he was once considered. And, because he could work so consistently in his own style, he seemed to the world supremely creative. Possibly sober opinion has modified somewhat the opinion of ten years ago, whenPelléas et Mélisandewas a startling novelty. The technical power with which he presented an absolutely new case remains as admirable as ever. But opinion of the absolute musical value of his work is somewhat diminishing, now that we are accustomed to the idiom. In plain words, it is beginning to be understood that Debussy repeats himself more than do most great composers, certainly more than a composer of the first rank would do. Moreover, his music does not hold a place in people’s hearts. It is truly expressive of delicate moods (moods in which the nerves and senses are chiefly involved); but it does not express the things that are nearest to human beings. At bottom, the variety possible to Debussy’s style is slight. He has painted many pictures, bearing many different titles, but all are mere rearrangements of the same figures and setting.
We find, to a greater extent than with most composers, that his whole art is fairly represented in his songs. They are numerous. And they are of a very high order of musicianship. It is evident Debussy put the best he had into these songs. They are luxuriant with the finest inventions of his remarkable technique. Not one is carelessly executed. Not one but is in some degree truly creative. Whether simple or abstruse, they make no concessions to popular effect. Some are valuable chiefly in their parts; as a whole they are notfirmly bound. But others are admirable in design and proportion. In most of them the accompaniment is so luxuriant that set form goes by the board; the song consists of its various parts. But in the accumulation of these various sensuous effects we get a new kind of unity. It is the unity of the impressionist painters—a synthesis performed in the observer or listener instead of being performed in the work itself. To speak concretely, the various parts reveal sometimes little to connect them with each other; they seem little amenable to any formal scheme. But when the listener simply listens, without trying to apply mental standards, he finds that he has lived through a single and definiteexperience.
It is hard to speak in detail of Debussy’s songs. They present so many individual elements of interest that, if they are to be studied at all, they must be studied in the concrete. Any attempt to describe or characterize them at a distance must be vague and colorless. We can only point out a few of the songs that stand out from the others by reason of great technical originality or impressionistic power. Debussy gained thegrand Prix de Romein 1884 and spent the next three years in Italy. His prize cantata, ‘The Prodigal Son,’ shows evidences of the impressionistic style, but, being offered to please a conservative committee, was kept in reserve. But Debussy knew what he wanted to do and promptly sent back from the Villa Medici a work which the committee could not accept because of its daring style. Even then he was approaching maturity in the manner which made him famous. The first of the well known songs were published in 1890 and were probably written in the course of the five years just preceding. They are not so involved as the later songs, but they cannot be called experimental works. TheMandoline, a masterly little genre song, has attained great popularity, and ‘The Fountain’ shows the composerworking on a most elaborate scale with a fully developed technical method. We should also mention in this place the famous aria, ‘Azaël,’ from ‘The Prodigal Son.’ The most strongly creative of Debussy’s works (exclusive of the opera) seem to centre around the year 1904. And here we find some of the best songs. We may instance the five fine ‘Poems’ from Baudelaire. In these Debussy is putting forth his very best. TheHarmonies du soirmay be taken as an epitome of his whole harmonic method. ‘The Balcony’ is very long and rich in descriptive imagination. TheJet d’eauand ‘The Death of Lovers’ should also be mentioned from this group. ‘The Faun’ and ‘The Grotto,’ from the same period, show Debussy at his best. The former in particular reveals him admirably as a painter of pictures in tones. Among the fairly simple songs (always the best for the student who is approaching a new style) we may mentionBeau soirand theRomance. TheProses lyriquesare very ambitious, very long, and very difficult. Even the most capable singer will find it hard to hold them unified when they are sung. The voice part is free, not exactly declamatory, but fragmentary and merged with the symphonic comment which is the accompaniment. Of the fourLes Fleursis perhaps the best, while the last,Le soir, is the simplest and the most approachable. TheChansons de Bilitisare more emotional and not so good. But the three ‘Ballads of François Villon,’ published in 1910, are masterpieces. The Prayer to the Virgin Mary is admirably pathetic, and the third, ‘The Ladies of Paris,’ shows Debussy in his sprightly vein, which he manages with capital humor and verve. TheFêtes galantes(words by Verlaine) include two very typical songs,En SourdineandClair de lune; the second extremely successful in the creating of ‘atmosphere’ and the first unusually appealing in melody. Finally we may mention theAriettes oubliées, published in 1913, which includeone admirable song, the ‘Belgian Landscape,’ which is clear and picturesque.
Maurice Ravel (born 1875) has a more vital talent than Debussy. Though the idiom he uses is remarkably similar, he manipulates it with greater incisiveness of effect and hence can make it expressive of emotion and physical energy to a greater extent. Where Debussy avoids the harsh and crude, Ravel often delights in it. Moreover, of late years, he has shown a marked change in his style (which cannot be said of Debussy). For, while the radical French music of the nineties was preëminently harmonic (insisting on the absolute effect of strange chords for its effect), Ravel has made his increasingly polyphonic. This he seems to have got from the Russian, Stravinsky. Undoubtedly this is a more vigorous method and especially one which is capable of a longer life and more variety of expression. And with it Ravel has accomplished fine things. The new French school, which with Debussy seemed in danger of degenerating into meticulous preciosity, will surely not see its energy exhausted at Ravel’s hands.
Perhaps most typical of Ravel’s songs, and admirably representative of his earlier technique, are the five descriptive songs grouped under the titleHistoires naturelles. The animals here described with inimitable humor are respectively the peacock, the cricket, the swan, the king-fisher, and the guinea fowl. It is evident that these offer a wide variety of effect. In each case Ravel has seized the opportunity in masterly fashion. The accompaniment to ‘The Peacock’ fairly shimmers with gorgeous coloring. ‘The Cricket’ is strident and mechanical, ‘The Swan’ slow and sensuous, and so on. Perhaps the student may not find such subjects proper for song treatment. But if descriptive music is admitted at all in song writing, one must admit the fine and supple technique displayed in these extraordinarilysuccessful songs. The group entitled ‘Scheherezade’ is no less masterful in its description of scenery and moods. The first, called ‘Asia,’ is unbelievably rich in this respect. Finally we may mention the three poems from Mallarmé, published in 1914. These are the most elaborate and difficult, the most remote from conventional expression of anything Ravel has done. They are more solid and stimulating in their musicianship than anything he had done before. The irregular melodic line ofPlacet futileis luxuriant in the extreme. All three show a gain toward freedom in the management of the voice, a gain which means a great increase in absolute musical value for the voice part. He seems here even to be creating a new sort of melody, one which has few elements of formal regularity but is rich in sensuous loveliness. The accompaniments for these songs are elaborate in the extreme. What the ultimate artistic value of them will be can not be told until they have been generously tried out by experienced singers. But they certainly give the musician pause. They, along with certain recent orchestral works, prove that Ravel is a man of immense energy, of an artistic genius that cannot be curbed, altogether one of the important men in modern music.