After the long dominance of German masters of the musical art, a reaction could not fail to come with the restless tendencies of other nations, who, having learned the lesson, were yet jealous of foreign models and eager to utter their own message.  The later nineteenth century was thus the age of refraction of the classic tradition among the various racial groups that sprang up with the rise of the national idea.  We can see a kind of beginning in the Napoleonic destruction of feudal dynasties.  German authority in music at the beginning of the century was as absolute as Roman rule in the age of Augustus.  But the seed was carried by teachers to the various centres of Europe.  And, with all the joy we have in the new burst of a nation’s song, there is no doubt that it is ever best uttered when it is grounded on the lines of classic art.  Here is a paramount reason for the strength of the modern Russian school.  With this semi-political cause in mind it is less difficult to grasp the paradox that with all the growth of intercommunication the music of Europe moves in more detached grooves to-day than two centuries ago.  The suite in the time of Bach is a special type and proof of a blended breadth and unity of musical thought in the various nations of Europe of the seventeenth century.  In the quaint series of dances of the different peoples, with a certain international quality, one sees a direct effect of the Thirty Years’ War,—­the beneficent side of those ill winds and cruel blasts, when all kinds of nations were jostling on a common battle-ground.  And as the folk-dances sprang from the various corners of Europe, so different nations nursed the artistic growth of the form.  Each would treat the dances of the other in its own way, and here is the significance of Bach’s separate suites,—­English, French and German.

Nationalism seems thus a prevailing element in the music of to-day, and we may perceive two kinds, one spontaneous and full of charm, the other a result of conscious effort, sophisticated in spirit and in detail.  It may as well be said that there was no compelling call for a separate French school in the nineteenth century as a national utterance.  It sprang from a political rather than an artistic motive; it was the itch of jealous pride that sharply stressed the difference of musical style on the two sides of the Rhine.  The very influence of German music was needed by the French rather than a bizarre invention of national traits.  The broader art of a Saint-Saens here shines in contrast with the brilliant conceits of his younger compatriots, though it cannot be denied that the latter are grounded in classic counterpoint.  With other nations the impulse was more natural:  the racial song of the Scandinavians, Czechs and other Slavs craved a deliverance as much as the German in the time of Schubert.  In France, where music had long flourished, there was no stream of suppressed folk-song.