Then, in 1890, there were signs of a movement that was in revolt against its despotism.  The great wind from the East began to drop, and veered to the North.  Scandinavian and Russian influences were making themselves felt.  An exaggerated infatuation for Grieg, though limited to a small number of people, was an indication of the change in public taste.  In 1890, Cesar Franck died in Paris.  Belgian by birth and temperament, and French in feeling and by musical education, he had remained outside the Wagnerian movement in his own serene and fecund solitude.  To his intellectual greatness and the charm his personal genius held for the little band of friends who knew and revered him he added the authority of his knowledge.  Unconsciously he brought back to us the soul of Sebastian Bach, with its infinite richness and depth; and through this he found himself the head of a school (without having wished it) and the greatest teacher of contemporary French music.  After his death, his name was the means of rallying together the younger school of musicians.  In 1892, the Chanteurs de Saint-Gervais, under the direction of M. Charles Bordes, reinstated to honour and popularised Gregorian and Palestrinian music; and, following the initiative of their director, the Schola Cantorum was founded in 1894 for the revival of religious music.  Ambition grew with success; and from the Schola sprang the Ecole Superieure de Musique, under the direction of Franck’s most famous pupil, M. Vincent d’Indy.  This school, founded on a solid knowledge, not only of the classics, but of the primitives in music, took from its very beginning in 1900 a frankly national character, and was in some ways opposed to German art.  At the same time, performances of Bach and seventeenth-and eighteenth-century music became more and more frequent; and more intimate relationship with the artists of other countries, repeated visits of the great Kapellmeister, foreign virtuosi and composers (especially Richard Strauss), and, lastly, of Russian composers, completed the education of the Parisian musical public, who, after repeated rebukes from the critics, became conscious of the awakening of a national personality, and of an impatient desire to free itself from German tutelage.  By turns it gratefully and warmly received M. Bruneau’s Le Reve (1891), M. d’Indy’s Fervaal (1898), M. Gustave Charpentier’s Louise (1900)—­all of which seemed like works of liberation.  But, as a matter of fact, these lyric dramas were by no means free from foreign influences, and especially from Wagnerian influences.  M. Debussy’s Pelleas et Melisande, in 1902, seemed to mark more truly the emancipation of French music.  From this time on, French music felt that it had left school, and claimed to have founded a new art, which reflected the spirit of the race, and was freer and suppler than the Wagnerian art.  These ideas, which were seized upon and enlarged by