e is the only one who is capable of covering the entire
field of art.

Some, even in treating a familiar subject, have as much dignity as a
Roman emperor on his golden throne, but Massenet did not belong to this
type. He had charm, attraction and a passionateness that was feverish
rather than deep. His melody was wavering and uncertain, oftentimes more
a recitative than melody properly so called, and it was entirely his
own. It lacks structure and style. Yet how can one resist when he hears
Manon at the feet of Des Grieux in the sacristy of Saint-Sulpice, or
help being stirred to the depths by such outpourings of love? One cannot
reflect or analyze when moved in this way.

After emotional art comes decadent art. But that is of little
consequence. Decadence in art is often far from being artistic
deterioration.

Massenet's music has one great attraction for me and one that is rare
in these days--it is gay. And gaiety is frowned upon in modern music.
They criticise Haydn and Mozart for their gaiety, and turn away their
faces in shame before the exuberant joyousness with which the _Ninth
Symphony_ comes to its triumphal close. Long live gloom. Hurrah for
boredom! So say our young people. They may live to regret, too late, the
lost hours which they might have spent in gaiety.

Massenet's facility was something prodigious. I have seen him sick in
bed, in a most uncomfortable position, and still turning off pages of
orchestration, which followed one another with disconcerting speed. Too
often such facility engenders laziness, but in his case we know what an
enormous amount of work he accomplished. He has been criticised as being
too prolific. However, that is a quality which belongs only to a master.
The artist who produces little may, if he has ability, be an interesting
artist, but he will never be a great one.

[Illustration: M. Jules Massenet]

In this time of anarchy in art, when all he had to do to conciliate
the hostile critics was to array himself with the _fauves_, Massenet set
an example of impeccable writing. He knew how to combine modernism with
respect for tradition, and he did this at a time when all he had to do
was to trample tradition under foot and be proclaimed a genius. Master
of his trade as few have ever been, alive to all its difficulties,
possessing the most subtle secrets of its technique, he despised the
contortions and exaggerations which simple minds confound with the
science of music. He fo