Traviata," and nothing tended to foreshadow the astonishing
transformation of style that was eventually to lead the master to
compose works such as "Aïda," the "Requiem," "Otello," and "Falstaff."
Musical education has made considerable progress since those days, and
the all-absorbing individuality of Wagner has exercised a sway over
musical art that is far from having spent itself.
The form in which "Faust" was composed did not tend to differ in any
appreciable degree from that adopted by Meyerbeer, with the exception
that certain Italianisms and concessions to the vocalist were dispensed
with.
Gounod's method, from which he has not since departed, seems to have
been to musically delineate each phase of the drama, treating every
scene as a separate whole--that is to say, without having recourse to
any connecting link or _leit motiv_; the recurrence of previously-heard
melodies in the fifth act hardly coming under this category. He is
satisfied to depict his characters in music that is intended to be more
or less in accordance with their individuality. Herein consists the
great difference that separates his works from those that are conceived
after Wagnerian ideas.
The music allotted to Mephistophéles has an appropriate amount of
Satanic colouring, and is invested with a certain grim humour. It has
been remarked that Gounod has been less successful than Berlioz in his
musical depiction of the philosophical side of Goethe's poem. This may
or may not be true, but in comparing the two works it must be
recollected that the composers cannot be judged from the same point of
view, for whereas Berlioz was hampered by no theatrical trammels or
operatic conventionalities, but was able to turn the legend to whatever
account he chose, even to transporting Faust to the plains of Hungary
and accompanying him to the infernal regions, Gounod was to a certain
extent dependent upon his librettists, who saw in Goethe's poem nothing
more than a story susceptible of being turned to operatic purposes. As
to what really constitutes the philosophical in music, probably no two
people will agree. Music is intended to convey certain impressions which
in turn cause corresponding emotions to the listener, in accordance with
that which it has been the composer's intention to depict. If it fails
in so doing, the fault may be ascribed either to the composer's
incapacity, or to a want of sympathetic feeling on the part of the
listener.
It is eminently to the credit of Gounod that he should have found the
means in his "Faust" of pleasing a variety of differently constituted
individuals, who probably admire his work from totally different
standpoints.
To the great majority the charm of "Faust" lies in melodies such as
those of the "old men's" and soldiers' choruses, the Kermesse and
well-known waltz; the more refined and sentimental will prefer the
famous love duet and the prison trio; _prime donne_ will incline to the
jewel song, which furnishes them with the opportunity of displaying the
agility of their throats; and the cultivated musician will single out
parts that do not attract the same amount of attention, but are not the
less noteworthy--such as the opening bars of the Prelude, the entire
first act, the end of the third act, the death of Valentine, the Church
scene, the commencement and end of the last act. When "Faust" was
transferred from the Théâtre Lyrique to the Grand Opera in 1869, Gounod
wrote additional ballet music, which, though charming enough in itself,
is absolutely out of keeping with the nature of the subject, and might
equally well figure in any opera of the type associated with this
theatre.
"Faust" may be considered as an important landmark in French music, and
from the year 1859 may be said to have sprung up an entirely new
generation of composers, imbued with a high and noble ideal, and
differing in many essentials from their predecessors. Previous to this
the voice of Berlioz remained that of one crying in the desert, unheeded
and scoffed at. The author of the "Symphonie Fantastique" had come too
soon, and, moreover, was altogether too thorough in his ideas and devoid
of any spirit of compromise. The pen of the critic, which he wielded
with such a conspicuous amount of success, was too often dipped in gall,
and the shafts of sarcasm which he unremittingly hurled at his enemies
kept their rancour alive, and mayhap did something to prevent even a
moderate amount of fair criticism from being meted to his musical
compositions. Although not a reformer in the same sense, Gounod
nevertheless contrived, in a quieter and less obtrusive manner, to
impose certain innovations without offending the prejudices of the
partisans of the older style of operatic music. To us nowadays it seems
difficult to realise that an opera so full of melody as "Faust" should
have seemed at all unduly complicated, but so it appears to have been
thought, and the Parisians of thirty years ago concentrated their
admiration upon the lighter portions, and looked askance at the rest.
These same Parisians were destined two years later to show the measure
of their musical aptitudes by the disgraceful manner in which they
received Wagner's "Tannhaüser" on the occasion of the memorable
performances of this work at the Opéra in 1861. At that period Gounod
was professedly an admirer of the German master, although since then his
opinions seem to have become sensibly modified. It is necessary to
remember that Wagner was only known then as the author of "Tannhaüser"
and "Lohengrin," and as holding certain heterodox views upon dramatic
art.
After the _fiasco_ of "Tannhaüser" Gounod appealed to the detractors of
the master, and gave them _rendezvous_ in ten years' time before the
same work and the same man, when, he said, they would lift their hats to
them both. It has required somewhat more than ten years for this, but
the Parisians have gone even further now than Gounod, and possibly the
popularity of Wagner in Paris may eventually equal, if it does not
surpass, that of the composer of "Faust."
Within a year after the production of this last work, a new opera by
Gounod was brought out at the Théâtre Lyrique. "Philémon et Baucis,"
played for the first time on February 18th, 1860, is a graceful and
delicate little score, that has remained popular in France and only
recently has obtained a fair measure of success in London, where it was
produced by Sir Augustus Harris at Covent Garden in 1891.
This pleasing work belongs entirely to the Opéra Comique _genre_, and
consists of a number of detached pieces connected together through the
means of spoken dialogue. In writing it Gounod evidently did not trouble
himself about questions of operatic reform, but was content with filling
in the framework provided for him, and allowing his ideas to flow
naturally. There is nothing forced in this melodious little opera.
Everything is pure and limpid as crystal. Putting aside all æsthetic
considerations as to the somewhat old-fashioned form in which the
composer's ideas are expressed, it is impossible not to feel charmed by
their refinement and delicacy.
"La Colombe," a little comic opera given at Baden in 1860, and later on
at the Opéra Comique, is comparatively of little importance. A charming
_entr'acte_ still occasionally finds its way into concert programmes. A
work of larger dimensions was "La Reine de Saba," produced on February
28th, 1862, the third opera written by Gounod for the Grand Opéra.
The music of this work is unequal, and the _libretto_ devoid of
interest. There are, however, certain numbers that have survived the
wreck of this ill-fated score, which has been somewhat too harshly
condemned. Amongst these may be mentioned the air, "Plus grand dans son
obscurité" (which has remained a favourite with dramatic _prime donne_),
the graceful women's chorus at the beginning of the second act, the
characteristic ballet music, and the grand march. These last two
extracts have become popular, and form part of all properly constituted
concert _répertoires_. At the period when this opera was produced, the
peculiar disease known as "Wagnerophobia" was raging in Paris, and every
composer with something new to say was gratified with the epithet
Wagnerian, which was held to be a term of contumely, implying absence of
melodic ideas and want of inspiration.
There is not much in the "Reine de Saba" that suggests the influence of
the German master, except a passing reminiscence of "Tannhaüser," but at
that time people did not look too closely into these matters. The score
was both long and monotonous, it did not contain too plentiful a
proportion of sops to the singers, and it was forthwith pronounced to be
Wagnerian, an expression as condemnatory in its intention as its real
meaning was little understood. Gounod himself laid great store upon his
work, and being met a short time after its production by a musical
critic at Baden, he told him that he was travelling on account of a
family bereavement. "I have lost," he said, "a woman whom I loved
deeply, the Queen of Sheba."
Only those who know the amount of labour involved in the composition of
a five-act opera can measure the disappointment that must accrue to its
author on finding that his work has failed to satisfy that agglomeration
of entities known as the public. "La Reine de Saba" was more successful
in Brussels than in Paris, and was well received in Germany, where,
however, it has been dethroned in favour of the far finer work by
Goldmark bearing the same name. It has also been heard in London under
the title of "Irene."
The opera of "Mireille," played for the first time at the Théâtre
Lyrique in 1864, and introduced to the notice of the English public at
Her Majesty's Theatre during the same year, is one of Gounod's most
characteristic productions in the way that it illustrates the composer's
qualities and defects perhaps as much as anything he has done. The poem
upon which it is founded is the "Mireio" of Frederick Mistral, the
celebrated Provençal poet. It is a pastoral, and as such necessarily
appealed irresistibly to a composer who is never so happy as when
treating a subject of this kind.
The story is simple enough, and is thus condensed by Mons. Pagnerre,
Gounod's clever biographer, to whose work I may refer those amongst my
readers who seek for further information upon the composer's life: "A
rich young girl, a poor young man, an ill-fated love; and death of the
young girl through sunstroke."
This tragic _dénouement_ was subsequently altered, and, according to the
latest version of the opera, Mireille lives presumably to enjoy
connubial bliss with her lover.
Gounod has been less happy in his treatment of the essentially dramatic
portions of the story than in those in which the lyrical element
predominates. The general colour of his score is quite in keeping with
a subject dealing with Provençale life, although it can scarcely be said
that he has proved so successful in this respect as Bizet has in his
music to Alphonse Daudet's "L'Arlésienne."
Notwithstanding this, there are many charming pages in "Mireille,"
strongly marked with the composer's individuality, suggestive of warm
sunshine and southern skies. If the opera is emphatically a
disappointment when considered as a whole, if it absolutely fails to
carry conviction as a musical drama, if it is full of contradictions of
style and concessions to the vocalist, it may at least claim to be
replete with melody of a refined nature and to contain several numbers
that are always heard with pleasure. The melodious duet, "Oh Magali ma
bien-aimée," has been one of the chief items in the _répertoire_ of
tenors and sopranos during the last five-and-twenty years, and has been
massacred by numberless amateurs in countless drawing-rooms.
The overture is a delightfully fresh composition of a pastoral nature,
and serves as a fitting prelude to the story. For some reason, best
known to himself, Gounod has written two endings to this, the first of
which is immeasurably superior, which is probably the reason why the
second is usually played. In the first act the composer has introduced a
vocal waltz of the same type as the one he was subsequently to place in
the mouth of Juliet, both being evidently written for the purpose of
giving Mme. Carvalho, the creatrix of these parts, the opportunity of
indulging in vocal acrobatics. Such concessions to the exigencies of the
singer are much to be deplored.
Amongst the most noticeable numbers in "Mireille" I would mention, in
addition to those I have already singled out, the opening chorus of the
first act, the "couplets" of Ourrias, so often sung in our concert rooms
by Mr. Santley, the "Musette," the shepherd's song, and Mireille's air,
"Heureux petit berger." This opera was originally in five acts; it was
then reduced to three, and restored to five, with certain
modifications, on the occasion of its revival at the Opéra Comique in
1874.
If Gounod had not succeeded since his "Faust" in producing any work that
could bear comparison with this masterpiece (however creditable in their
way the operas that had followed it might be), he was destined in "Romeo
and Juliet" to be more fortunate, and to wed music to Shakespeare's
story, that many of his admirers have not scrupled to place upon the
same level as the former work. With this estimate I am by no means
disposed to agree, although I should be inclined to consider "Romeo" as
occupying the second place in the list of the composer's dramatic works.
Shakespeare's wondrous tragedy had already been set to music by several
composers,[18] amongst whom it will be sufficient to mention Dalayrac,
Steibelt, Zingarelli, Vaccai, Bellini, and Marchetti. An opera by the
Marquis d'Ivry, entitled "Les Amants de Vérone," on the same theme,
although written before the production of Gounod's work, was brought out
in Paris in 1878 with Capoul as Romeo. It may be well to point out also
that, by a curious coincidence, Gounod once more chose a subject that
had been treated by Berlioz, whose symphony of "Romeo and Juliet"
remains one of his greatest works.
In her interesting biography of Gounod, Mdlle. de Bovet makes the
following apt observations: "'Faust,' as we have seen, is remarkable for
its homogeneity, the happy outcome of the subordination of the fantastic
to the emotional element. It is not possible to say that all the parts
of 'Roméo et Juliette' are linked by so close a bond, and this could not
well have been so. All Jules Barbier's cleverness could not make the
plot other than a love duet, or rather a succession of love duets."
It is this fact that accounts in a measure for the tinge of monotony
noticeable in this opera. When Mons. A. Jullien very truly remarks that
of all musicians Gounod is the one whose ideas, method, and style vary
the least, he strikes a vulnerable point in the composer's armour. Thus
the duets in "Romeo" have appeared to many people as attenuated versions
of the love music in "Faust." Not that the themes in themselves bear any
appreciable likeness one to another, but that the general
characteristics and harmonic colouring are similar. To many this will
appear an additional evidence of powerful individuality, whereas others
will see in it an element of weakness. Wagner has proved that it is
possible to write love duets totally distinct in conception one from the
other, yet bearing the impress of the same hand, in "Lohengrin," "Die
Walküre," "Tristan," and "Siegfried."
Although the love music of "Romeo" cannot compare with that of "Faust,"
yet there is no denying the charm that pervades it. Over-sentimental and
apt to cloy, it is eminently poetical and full of melody. If we miss
the note of true passion, we find in its stead a fund of tenderness.
The prelude, or prologue, in which the characters are seen grouped upon
the stage, is altogether happily conceived and novel in point of form.
There is little in the first act that calls for much notice, with the
exception of the clever song for Mercutio, "La Reine Mab," and the
graceful two-voiced madrigal. The vocal waltz to which I have previously
alluded is out of place in a work of this kind. The second act contains
the balcony scene, and is conceived in a delicate and refined vein well
adapted to the situation. The music throughout is suave and charming.
There is nothing particularly noticeable in the treatment of the
marriage scene in the cell of Brother Lawrence.
During the next scene we witness the famous quarrels in which Mercutio
and Tybalt are killed. The influence of Meyerbeer is strongly marked
here, although the music lacks the dramatic force which is so prominent
in the works of the composer of the "Huguenots." The _finale_ to this,
with its impassioned tenor solo, is highly effective.
Gounod is once more in his element in the fourth act, which contains the
celebrated love duet, "Nuit d'Hyménée," and in the phrase "Non ce n'est
pas le jour" he strikes a note of genuine inspiration.
The charming orchestral movement accompanying the sleep of Juliet and
the final love duet bring us to the end of the numbers demanding special
attention.
"Romeo" proved successful in France from the outset, whereas in England
it failed to maintain itself in the operatic _répertoire_ for a number
of years, notwithstanding the appearance of Mme. Patti as Juliet.
Recently it has acquired an undoubted popularity, owing possibly in part
to Mons. Jean de Reszke's assumption of the principal character.
Alike to "Faust," "Romeo" has also been transferred to the _répertoire_
of the Grand Opéra. It is in these two works that the essence of the
master's genius would appear to be concentrated.
Gounod having been successful in his treatment of works by Molière,
Goethe, and Shakespeare, now turned his attention to Corneille, whose
"Polyeucte" exercised an irresistible fascination over his mind.
Several events, however, were destined to transpire before this work was
to be brought to a termination.
The Franco-German war broke out, and Gounod, who was past the age to
serve his country in a military capacity, took refuge in England. During
his sojourn in London he composed the cantata "Gallia," inspired by the
troubles that had befallen his native land. This work was written for
the inauguration of the Royal Albert Hall, where it was performed for
the first time on May 1st, 1871. On this occasion four composers were
asked to contribute to the solemnity. Sir Arthur Sullivan represented
England, Gounod France, Pinsuti Italy, and Ferdinand Hiller Germany.
Gounod entitled his work a "biblical elegy." It met with success in
London, and was subsequently performed in Paris. The best portion of
"Gallia" is the effective _finale_ for soprano and chorus, "Jerusalem."
Gounod was at that time working at his "Polyeucte," and was also engaged
upon the "Redemption." Mrs. Weldon was to take the principal part in the
first of these works.
Whilst in London Gounod composed a great deal. In addition to "Gallia"
he wrote several choral works and a quantity of songs. Amongst these
last may be mentioned such popular favourites as "Maid of Athens," "Oh
that we two were maying," "There is a green hill far away," "The
Worker," "The fountain mingles with the river," and the fascinating duet
entitled, "Barcarolle." The "Funeral march of a Marionette" also dates
from this epoch, as does the charming "Recueil" of songs entitled
"Biondina," instinct with southern spirit. It may be amusing to peruse
his opinion of English musical feeling, as recorded by Mdlle. de Bovet:
"When one sees Englishmen attentively follow the execution of a score,
as grave and solemn as if they were fulfilling an austere duty; then
suddenly, as if a spring had been touched, raise their heads and with
beaming faces exclaim, 'Oh, how nice! very beautiful indeed!' and again
bury themselves in their book as gravely and solemnly as before, one
cannot help thinking that they are would-be rather than real musicians.
They are actuated by British pride, because their artistic taste must be
superior to the taste of other nations, just as their navy is more
powerful and their cotton and flannel of better quality."
The opera "Polyeucte," which was terminated in London, was not brought
out until October 7, 1878. Previous to this Gounod had set to music an
operatic version of Alfred de Vigny's "Cinq Mars," given for the first
time at the Paris Opéra Comique on April 5, 1877, which may be classed
among his weakest productions. It bears manifest signs of haste. Apart
from a suave "cantilena," "Nuit resplendissante," and some graceful
ballet music, there is little in "Cinq Mars" that calls for notice.
Gounod was not much luckier with his "Polyeucte," over which he had
devoted so much thought and labour. This opera, which savours rather of
the oratorio, was not particularly suited to the stage of the Grand
Opéra, notwithstanding the introduction of a set ballet, very charming
in its way, but utterly unfit for the subject. A gorgeous
_mise-en-scène_ and an admirable interpretation did not save it from
failure. Out of this elaborate and unequal score it is possible to
detach certain pages that are worthy of the illustrious name by which
they are signed, but the work in its _ensemble_ is thoroughly
disappointing. Gounod seems after "Romeo" to have adopted an entirely
retrograde style of composition in his operas, and to have receded with
each new operatic attempt.
If "Cinq Mars" and "Polyeucte" were both destined to accentuate this
fact, "Le Tribut de Zamora," given at the Grand Opéra in 1881, confirmed
it without further doubt. This last work is certainly one of his least
interesting operas, not so much in respect of want of ideas, as from the
fact of its being constructed upon old and obsolete models. Gounod has
pursued an absolutely contrary course to that adopted by Wagner and
Verdi, for whereas these masters have produced their greatest works at a
comparatively advanced period of their lives, the composer of "Faust"
has lost ground at each successive production. In saying this I allude
especially to his operas. Mons. Adolphe Jullien, in an article on the
"Tribut de Zamora," makes the following apt remarks: "Generally
speaking, musicians as they advance in their career obtain renewed
strength, and follow an upward course--at any rate, as long as they have
not attained old age. It is even the case with certain musicians, such
as Rossini and Verdi, that a revelation at a later stage of their career
enables them to perceive a new ideal, which they endeavour to attain,
with more or less success, according to the amount of genius they
possess; even for the one who is unable to reach his aim, it is always a
merit to have had it in view. There is nothing of this in M. Gounod.
After the long period of rest that followed the production of his best
works, from 'Faust' to 'Roméo,' he has re-entered the career with ideas
absolutely modified as regards dramatic music; he has returned straight
to the old type of opéra comique and opera, carefully cutting up each
act into airs and recitatives, each romance or melody into short square
periods, simplifying the orchestral accompaniment as much as possible,
and subordinating it to the voices, which it often doubles. According to
this retrograde system he has written his last operas, 'Cinq Mars,'
'Polyeucte,' and 'Le Tribut de Zamora,' whilst the young French
musicians taking his earlier works as their starting-point, were
endeavouring to add to the refinement of his orchestration, and to treat
each act as a vocal and orchestral symphony. There can be no doubt that
it is to this that the dramatic music of the present day tends, and it
is all the more strange to see M. Gounod going against this irresistible
movement that he has been one of the first to help."