However that may be, M. d’Indy hails from the Middle Ages, and not from antiquity (which does not exist for him[153]), or from the Renaissance, which he confounds with the Reformation (though the two sisters are enemies) in order to crush it the better.[154] “Let us take for models,” he says, “the fine workers in art of the Middle Ages."[155]

* * * * *

In this return to the Gothic spirit, in this awakening of faith, there is a name—­a modern one this time—­that they are fond of quoting at the Schola; it is that of Cesar Franck, under whose direction the little Conservatoire in the Rue Saint-Jacques was placed.  And indeed they could quote no better name than that of this simple-hearted man.  Nearly all who came into contact with him felt his irresistible charm—­a charm that has perhaps a great deal to do with the influence that his works still have on French music to-day.  None has felt Franck’s power, both morally and musically, more than M. Vincent d’Indy; and none holds a more profound reverence for the man whose pupil he was for so long.

[Footnote 153:  “The only documents extant on ancient music are either criticisms or appreciations, and not musical texts” (Cours de Composition).]

[Footnote 154:  “The influence of the Renaissance, with its pretension and vanity, caused a check in all the arts—­the effect of which we are still feeling” (Traite de Composition, p. 89.  See also the passage quoted before on Pride).]

[Footnote 155:  Tribune de Saint-Gervais, November, 1900.]

The first time I saw M. d’Indy was at a concert of the Societe nationale, in the Salle Pleyel, in 1888.  They were playing several of Franck’s works; among others, for the first time, his admirable Theme, fugue, et variation, for the harmonium and pianoforte, a composition in which the spirit of Bach is mingled with a quite modern tenderness.  Franck was conducting, and M. d’Indy was at the pianoforte.  I shall always remember his reverential manner towards the old musician, and how careful he was to follow his directions; one would have said he was a diligent and obedient pupil.  It was a touching homage from one who had already proved himself a master by works like Le Chant de la cloche, Wallenstein, La Symphonie sur un theme montagnard, and who was perhaps at that time better known and more popular than Cesar Franck himself.  Since then twenty years have passed, and I still see M. d’Indy as I saw him that evening; and, whatever may happen in the future, his memory for me will be always associated with that of the grand old artist, presiding with his fatherly smile over the little gathering of the faithful.