But what a gulf divides them and him! A gulf
made up, not only of diversities of style, but of the difference between
two races and two worlds. Beside the frenzied outpourings of Richard
Strauss, who flounders uncertainly between mud and debris and genius,
the Latin art of Saint-Saens rises up calm and ironical. His delicacy of
touch, his careful moderation, his happy grace, "which enters the soul
by a thousand little paths,"[137] bring with them the pleasures of
beautiful speech and honest thought; and we cannot but feel their charm.
Compared with the restless and troubled art of to-day, his music strikes
us by its calm, its tranquil harmonies, its velvety modulations, its
crystal clearness, its smooth and flowing style, and an elegance that
cannot be put into words. Even his classic coldness does us good by its
reaction against the exaggerations, sincere as they are, of the new
school. At times one feels oneself carried back to Mendelssohn, even to
Spontini and the school of Gluck. One seems to be travelling in a
country that one knows and loves; and yet in M. Saint-Saens' works one
does not find any direct resemblance to the works of other composers;
for with no one are reminiscences rarer than with this master who
carries all the old masters in his mind--it is his spirit that is akin
to theirs.
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