Chapter II: Part 2

The year 1855 witnessed the production of one of the master's most individual works, the "Messe de Ste. Cécile," the popularity of which has remained unabated on both sides of the Channel, and which furnishes perhaps the most typical example of his genius in this particular line. Mons. Pagnerre, Gounod's biographer, very rightly considers this as occupying the same position in regard to his religious as "Faust" does to his dramatic works.

For years Gounod had cherished the desire of setting Goethe's "Faust" to music, and in 1855 he mentioned the subject to the librettists Michel Carré and Jules Barbier, who immediately set to work and provided the required text. Circumstances, however, combined to prevent him from completing his work, and Mons. Carvalho, then director of the Théâtre Lyrique, having suggested something of a lighter description, Gounod interrupted his labours, and in five months completed the score of "Le Médecin Malgré Lui," an operatic version of Molière's comedy, which was performed for the first time on January 15, 1858. This little opera is a perfect gem of delicate fancy and refined humour. It affords a proof of what can be achieved with limited means by a true artist, and how burlesque situations are susceptible of being treated without a suspicion of vulgarity or triviality. Berlioz well defined its true worth when he wrote: "Everything in this comic opera is pretty, piquant, fresh, spontaneous; there is not a note too much nor a note too little." It has frequently been performed in England under the title of "The Mock Doctor."

We now approach the culminating point in the composer's career. The score of "Faust" was almost finished in October 1857, and Gounod was said to be at work upon a grand opera entitled "Ivan the Terrible," which was never completed, or at all events never played. The composer utilised several portions thereof in other operas: the celebrated soldier's march in "Faust" was originally composed for the above work. "Faust" was first performed at the Théâtre Lyrique on the 19th of March 1859, with the following cast: Faust, Barbot; Mephistophéles, Balanqué; Valentin, Reynald; Siebel, Mdlle. Faivre; Marguerite, Mme. Carvalho. It was transferred to the Grand Opéra in 1869, with certain alterations, including new ballet music for the fifth act, when it was interpreted by Colin, a young tenor of great talent and promise, who was destined to die prematurely not long after; Faure, unsurpassed as Mephistophéles; Devoyod, Mdlle. Mauduit, and Mme. Nilsson, the best of Marguerites.

The success of "Faust" did not for some time assume anything like the proportions it was destined to attain later on, and the following extracts from some of the criticisms of the day may not be uninteresting. Berlioz was on the whole distinctly favourable to his young rival's work, and his appreciation, coming from one who had himself sought for inspiration from the same source, acquires thereby additional importance. According to him, the most remarkable portion of the score is the monologue of Marguerite at her window, which closes the third act. In this it is probable that many will now agree.

Scudo,[14] the once famous critic of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, was less favourable than Berlioz, although he admitted the work to be thoroughly distinguished; "but," he added, "the musician has not seized the vast conception of the German poet; he has not sufficiently succeeded in appropriating unto himself the epic force of Goethe, to render any new attempt impossible." In this, Scudo was perhaps not altogether wrong. As, however, he always showed himself the uncompromising opponent of Berlioz, Wagner, and the newer school of musical thought, his judgment loses some of its weight, and it is not surprising that he should have pronounced the soldier's march to be a masterpiece, whilst failing to recognise the beauty of the garden scene.

Strangely enough, neither Berlioz nor Scudo, judging the work from such different standpoints, were in any way impressed by the musical beauties or dramatic force of the prison scene. Jouvin, the critic of the _Figaro_, whilst praising the second and fourth acts, thought the third monotonous and lengthy. On the other hand, the critic of the _Illustration_ considered this as the finest. Scudo having died in 1864, he was succeeded on the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ by Blaze de Bury, who proved even more hostile to Gounod than his predecessor.

"Faust" was first performed in London under Col. Mapleson's _régime_, in 1864, with the following cast: Mme. Titiens, Marguerite; Mme. Trebelli, Siebel; Giuglini, Faust; Gassier, Mephistophéles; Santley, Valentine. Signor Arditi was the conductor.

Later on, during the same season, it was given at Covent Garden and interpreted as follows: Mme. Miolan-Carvalho, Marguerite; Mme. Nantier Didier, Siebel; Tamberlik, Faust; Faure, Mephistophéles; Graziani, Valentine.

Since then, the number of singers who have appeared in this unique work has been very great. There probably does not exist a _prima donna_ who has not enacted the part of Marguerite; and "Faust" has usurped the place formerly occupied by "La Sonnambula" as the _débutante's_ opera.

In his amusing Memoirs, Colonel Mapleson gives an entertaining account of the production of "Faust" in London.

Finding that there appeared to be a lack of public interest in the new work, discernible through the fact that only £30 worth of seats had been disposed of for the first night, he adopted the bold and singular course of distributing the tickets for the first three performances far and wide, and giving out that the house was sold out. He then put an advertisement in the _Times_, stating that, "in consequence of a death in the family, two stalls for the first representation of 'Faust,' the opera that had excited so much interest that all places for the first three representations had been bought up, could be had at 25_s._ each." The success of this stratagem appears to have been complete. Public curiosity was aroused, and the triumphant career of "Faust" in this country was begun.

The success "Faust" has achieved all the world over is probably unprecedented in operatic annals.

Gounod is said to have got only £40 for the English rights, and he was deemed lucky to get even that.

It would appear to be an impossibility for a composer to succeed in pleasing every one, and although perhaps "Faust" possesses this gift as much as any other operatic work, yet it is not surprising that it should have been criticised adversely from many varied points of view. That it should have proved distasteful to Wagner is but natural, considering the fact that the "libretto" must have seemed to the German master a desecration of Goethe's poem, even as much as the book of "Guillaume Tell" was a parody of Schiller's play.

Amongst the most singular appreciations of "Faust" is that emitted by Blaze de Bury, who qualifies it as an "Italian" opera!

As a contrast to this, several others have commented upon the composer's German tendencies, and the names of Mendelssohn and Schumann have been freely mentioned as furnishing the source of his inspiration. In point of fact, "Faust" is neither German nor Italian, but French, essentially French in its melody, essentially French in its harmony. The few unmistakable reminiscences of Mendelssohn do not detract from this any more than does the undoubted influence in many places of Meyerbeer. Of Schumann I can find but few if any traces. On the other hand, the work bears the stamp throughout of Gounod's own individuality. It is not an occasional reminiscence or a passing thought that suffices to class a work as belonging to any special school, but rather its general characteristics. Those who want a typical German Faust must go to Schumann, whilst those who prefer Goethe as seen through Italian spectacles can apply to Boïto. As regards the essentially Gallic interpretations of Berlioz and Gounod there can be no question.

Probably no legend has ever been turned to such account by poet, dramatist, and musician as that of "Faust." The fascination of the story, whether looked at in its philosophical or purely romantic aspect has proved irresistible to many generations. The original Faust appears to be a mythical personage, who in some form or another has figured in the folk-lore of all nations, and is not to be confounded with Faust, or Fust, the printer. An individual of this name is mentioned by Melancthon in his "Table Talk" as having been a professor of magic at Cracow, and a great traveller, who had startled the inhabitants of Venice by flying through the air. The Reformer pleasantly alludes to this person as "Turpissima bestia et cloaca multorum diabolorum." The existence of this Faust at Cracow is further corroborated by Wierns in 1588, a year later than the publication of the earliest version of the Faust legend by Spiess. It is upon this last that Marlowe founded his "Dr. Faustus," which was brought out in the following year. The long narrative of the story by Widman appeared in 1599. In all these versions the character of Marguerite is absent. It was reserved for Goethe to evolve this beautiful conception from his brain.[15]

Since the appearance of the great German poet's masterwork, the subject, as treated by him, has been utilised in various manners by numberless musicians. It would perhaps not be uninteresting to cast a glance at some of these. The following composers had preceded Gounod in making use of "Faust" as an opera text: Lickl (1815), Strauss (1814), Spohr (1814), Seyfried (1820), Béancourt (1827), Sir Henry Bishop (1825), Lindpaintner (1831), Mdlle. Berlin (1831), Rietz (1837), and Gordigiani (1837).[16] What has become of all these works? _Chi lo sa?_ The only one that has in any way survived is that by Spohr, extracts from which are still occasionally heard in the concert-room. Boïto's "Mefistofele" belongs of course to a subsequent period. It redounds greatly to the credit of the Italian composer that he should have succeeded in imposing a new operatic setting of Goethe's poem when this was so intimately associated in most people's minds with the music of Gounod.

Although strangely unequal, "Mefistofele" is nevertheless in many ways a highly remarkable work, particularly as marking a departure from the usual methods peculiar to Italian composers, and aiming at a higher ideal. It has born fruit. Boïto is a poet as well as a musician, and in his operatic adaptation of "Faust" he has evidently striven to depart as little as possible from Goethe's plan. This is of course commendable. Unfortunately, the result has not been altogether satisfactory, for in endeavouring to compress the two "Fausts" of Goethe into one work, the Italian composer has been compelled to make a selection from the different situations occurring in the original, and has only succeeded in presenting a succession of scenes strung together apparently without rhyme or reason. A proper sub-title for "Mefistofele" would be, "A selection of scenes from the two Fausts of Goethe, operatically treated by A. Boïto." Certainly the librettists of Gounod's opera have shown but scant regard for Goethe's intentions, but they have at any rate concocted a story with a well-regulated and dramatically logical plot. Boïto, on the other hand, in his evident desire to do justice to Goethe, has attempted too much and achieved too little. "Qui trop embrasse, mal étreint." This has been the case with Boïto. Many people have tried to discover a philosophical meaning, and the realisation of a quantity of abstract notions in Boïto's music, which only exist in their imagination. Perhaps the three composers who have best grasped the spirit of the wonderful poem have been Schumann, Liszt, and Wagner: the first in his "Scenes from Faust," the second in his "Faust Symphony," the third in his "Faust Overture." Gounod has been more successful in this respect than many people are inclined to allow. It is only necessary to point to the first bars of the Prelude and the commencement of the first act as a proof of this fact.

Of late years Berlioz's "Damnation de Faust" has acquired a well-deserved though tardily-bestowed popularity. It was considered by the composer as one of his best works, a judgment which has since then received a practically universal endorsement. At the same time, it is rather by reason of its own individuality than as a satisfactory interpretation of Goethe, that the above "dramatic legend" is entitled to the high rank it occupies in the esteem of musicians, and much of the effect produced by this extraordinary composition can in a large measure be assigned to the glamour shed over it by the wonderful orchestral colouring that Berlioz knew so well how to employ, his mastery of which will probably remain his chief glory with posterity. Berlioz states that the score of his "Faust" was composed by him with an amount of facility that he rarely experienced in connection with his other works. The famous march on a Hungarian theme was written by him in one night. "The extraordinary effect," he writes, "that it produced at Pesth decided me to introduce it into the score of 'Faust,' in taking the liberty of placing my hero in Hungary at the outset of the work, and causing him to assist at the passing of a Hungarian army across the plain where he is indulging in dreamy thoughts." Berlioz excuses this liberty by stating that in composing his "Faust" he had never intended to bind himself into following the plan adopted by Goethe in his masterpiece. This specious sort of argument is all very well in its way, and the adoption of similar methods might prove of infinite service to composers in enabling them to utilise previously-written works, and thereby save themselves trouble. Whether it is artistic or not, is another matter. If we suppose, for instance, that Berlioz had had by him a "Tarantella" and an Irish jig, he might have transported his hero alternately to Italy and to Erin, and named his work "The Travels of Faust," which at any rate would not have been open to the same objection as the original title chosen by him. Despite these casual observations and the fact that, looked at from the point of view of a satisfactory interpretation of Goethe's poem, the work falls short, Berlioz's "Faust" none the less remains one of its author's most inspired compositions; beautiful in parts, though needlessly eccentric in others; powerful, and, above all, eminently individual.

If the "Faust" of Berlioz may be ranked as one of its author's best works, the same place of honour can undoubtedly be ascribed to the "Scenes from Faust" of Schumann in the lengthy catalogue of the master of Zwickau's compositions, and it is strange that so few opportunities should be afforded to Londoners of appreciating its beauties. The second part of this work is generally considered by musicians as being the most remarkable, but Schumann's setting of the Church scene counts amongst his finest inspirations. The overture is the weakest portion, and cannot compare with Wagner's masterly tone-poem known as "Eine Faust Ouverture," one of the most striking examples of modern orchestral music. I must not omit to mention the "Faust Symphony" of Liszt, which is also too seldom performed, probably on account of its length and extreme difficulty, also possibly owing to the uncompromising hostility entertained in certain quarters against the master's music. Although consisting of three movements--labelled respectively "Faust," "Marguerite," and "Mephistophéles," the work in question might rather come under the category of a "symphonic poem." It is constructed upon entirely unconventional lines, the themes being subjected to various transformations, after the method peculiar to Liszt. The second portion is one of the most beautiful movements in the entire range of instrumental music.

The following composers have also treated the same subject more or less successfully: Prince Radziwill, Litolff, Hugo Pierson, Zöllner, and Eduard Lassen.[17] The latter's incidental music is constantly given in Germany in conjunction with the drama. As this is the age of festivals, I should like to suggest to the minds of those responsible in such matters the feasibility of attempting what might be termed a "Faust" festival. This could be made to occupy the inside of a week, and would be devoted entirely to works inspired by Goethe's poem. I venture to think that the idea is susceptible of being turned to good account. Many musical treasures, the existence of which is unsuspected, would thereby come to light.

It would appear to be almost needless to attempt to give a description of the music that Gounod has wedded to Messrs. Michel Carré and Jules Barbier's operatic version of "Faust." That it is perhaps the most popular opera composed during the last fifty years is a generally recognised fact, and one that is not likely to be seriously contested, whatever restrictions may be made from different points of view concerning its merits. Since it was first produced, a new generation has sprung up, and what appeared startlingly bold thirty years ago has long ceased to be so considered. In 1859 matters were very different from what they now are. The operatic _pabulum_ in England consisted of the works of Balfe and Wallace. In France, Auber was at the head of the Conservatoire; Ambroise Thomas had written neither "Mignon" nor "Hamlet"; Clapisson, Massé, Maillart, and composers of that calibre, enjoyed the confidence of the patrons of the Opéra Comique; whilst Berlioz and Wagner were looked upon as musical iconoclasts.

In Italy, Verdi reigned supreme, the Verdi of "Il Trovatore" and "La 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."

Before taking leave of the master as a dramatic composer it is necessary to mention a musical version of Molière's "Georges Dandin," which has never been performed, and may possibly be still unfinished. The peculiarity of this work consists in the fact of the music being composed to Molière's actual prose. In a preface destined to precede the above opera, Gounod has exposed his ideas with a considerable amount of ingenuity regarding the superiority he considers that prose possesses over verse for operatic purposes. It is to be hoped that an opportunity may some time or other be offered to the public of judging the practical value of these theories by the production of "Georges Dandin." According to Gounod, the substitution of prose for verse opens to the musician "an entirely new horizon, which rescues him from monotony and uniformity." The question, it may be added, had already been mooted by Berlioz, who expressed himself favourable to the employment of prose in an article published in 1858.

There remain two important compositions of Gounod's to be mentioned, both of which naturally possess great interest to the British public, having been heard for the first time in England. "The Redemption," which was produced at the Birmingham Festival of 1882, has obtained a great and lasting success amongst us. It forms part of the current _répertoire_ of the Royal Choral Society.

Gounod has preceded the score of what he terms a sacred "trilogy" with a few explanatory words. He describes his work as being the expression of the three great events upon which rest the existence of Christianity: (1) The Passion and death of the Saviour; (2) His glorious life on earth between His resurrection and ascension; (3) The diffusion of Christianity throughout the world by the apostolical mission. These three parts of the "trilogy" are preceded by a prologue on the Creation, the first Fall, and the promise of a Redeemer. This is, indeed, an ambitious programme, and it is scarcely to be wondered at that Gounod should not have succeeded altogether in realising it. The music rarely approaches the grandeur and depth of expression requisite for an adequate interpretation of such a theme. It is full of sensuousness and mystic charm, but although containing several numbers of undeniable beauty, the effect of the work as a whole is decidedly monotonous. Having dedicated the "Redemption" to Queen Victoria, Gounod dedicated "Mors et Vita," a sacred "trilogy" produced at the Birmingham Festival of 1885, to Pope Leo XIII. This companion work to the "Redemption" is at least equally ambitious in its scope. The first part consists of a "Requiem," the second is descriptive of the Judgment, and the last deals with Eternal Life. Hence its title, "Mors et Vita." This work has not obtained the same popularity in England as the "Redemption," to which I personally am inclined to prefer it.

Having arrived thus far in the composer's life, I will have to content myself with the bare mention of works, such as the incidental music written by him to "Les Deux Reines," "Jeanne D'Arc," and "Les Drames Sacrés." Gounod is also the author of two symphonies, composed at an early stage of his career, several masses, and other religious works. As a song-writer he has greatly distinguished himself, and his melodies have long been the delight of vocalists all the world over. Amongst these is one that deserves special mention and has probably done more to popularise his name than the majority of his larger works. I allude to the famous "Ave Maria," composed upon the first prelude of Bach. A facetious Teuton a year or two ago published a book purporting to contain biographies of great musicians. His sketch of Bach runs thus: "John Sebastian Bach owes his great reputation almost entirely to the fortunate circumstance that he received a commission to write the accompaniment to a famous melody by Gounod. With a most incomprehensible impertinence he also published his accompaniment, without Gounod's melody, as a so-called 'prelude,' together with a number of small pieces under the title of 'Wohltemperirte Clavier,' but the book had little success, on account of its silly title, among the admirers of the melody. His numerous sons are, to the annoyance of historians, also called Bach."

Gounod has lately attempted to improve (?) another of Bach's preludes, but with indifferent results. Such things are not to be repeated. Amongst his other songs it is only necessary to mention at random such exquisite gems as the "Serénade," "Medjé," "Le Vallon," "Le Printemps," "Au Printemps," "Prière," "Ce que je suis sans toi," &c., in order to revive the most delightful recollections. Occasionally the composer of "Faust" has been tempted to express his views upon art and artists. Of late years he has exhibited an exuberant admiration for Mozart, upon whose "Don Juan" he has written a pamphlet abounding in expressions of the most dithyrambic description. In a preface to the "Lettres Intimes" of Berlioz, he expresses his great admiration for that master. He has also written two interesting and eulogistic notices of Saint-Saëns's "Henry VIII." and "Ascanio."

Composers are proverbially bad judges of each other's works. This is probably due to the fact that every composer looks upon his art from a special point of view, and is often unable to appreciate works that are constructed upon different lines to his own. Every one knows the manner in which Weber and Spohr criticised Beethoven, and how Schubert was unable to perceive the beauties of Weber's "Euryanthe." Meyerbeer fared badly at the hands of Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Wagner. The last-named has been freely condemned by many of his contemporaries. Nevertheless, there is a decided attraction in hearing the opinion of one creative artist about another, and Gounod's ideas concerning some of the great musicians are worth recording. We are already aware of his boundless enthusiasm for Mozart, whom he terms "the first, the only one." Bach and Beethoven have also exercised their sway upon him, and both these masters run the composer of "Don Giovanni" hard in Gounod's estimation. He is reported to have one day expressed himself in the following terms concerning Bach: "If the greatest masters, Beethoven, Haydn, Mozart, were to be annihilated by an unforeseen cataclysm, in the same manner in which the painters might be through a fire, it would be easy to reconstitute the whole of music with Bach. _Dans le ciel de l'art, Bach est une nébuleuse qui ne s'est pas encore condensée._"

According to Mdlle. de Bovet, "Rossini is in Gounod's estimation the most limpid, broad, and lofty of lyric authors"--after Mozart be it said. This certainly would seem to upset my theory that a composer is not able to appreciate works conceived after different methods to his own, for what operas could possibly be more opposed in style than say "Semiramide" or "La Gazza Ladra" and "Faust?" Certainly, if we read the following passage in Mdlle. de Bovet's book we find that Gounod considers that Rossini's work "is summed up in two masterpieces of strangely opposite character, 'Il Barbiere di Seviglia' and 'Guillaume Tell,'" which possibly qualifies the force of the preceding passage. His appreciation of Berlioz is curious. According to Gounod, the composer of the "Romeo and Juliet" symphony is "fantastical and emotional; he suffers, he weeps, he grows desperate, or loses his head. The personal side of things seizes hold of him: he has been called the Jupiter of music. Granted; but a Jupiter who stumbles, a god who is a slave to his passions and his transports; but withal possessing masterly qualities: a marvellous colourist, he handles orchestration--which is the musician's palette--with a sure and powerful grasp. And then we come suddenly amongst remarkable passages, upon mistakes, awkward bits, betraying a tardy and faulty education--in short, an incomplete genius." As regards Wagner, the composer of "Faust" prefers to keep his opinion to himself, or at any rate only to deliver it in words the ambiguity of which fit them for an illustration of the saying that _La parole a été donnée à l'homme pour cacher sa pensée._

Gounod inhabits a handsome house in Paris. Mdlle. de Bovet has given the following interesting description of his study, which I will take the liberty of reproducing: "It is an immense apartment, rising the height of two floors, lit by a broad window with light-stained glass; it is panelled with oak and vaulted like a church. And is it not the sanctuary of art? At the further extremity, on a platform reached by several low steps, stands a large organ by Cavaillé Coll; the bellows are worked by a hydraulic machine in the basement. A medallion representing a head of Christ is placed in the centre of the instrument. The writing-table, under the stained-glass window, is one of those composite ones used by musicians, a movable keyboard sliding backwards and forwards under the desk at will. The Renaissance mantelpiece in wood, richly carved in high relief representing scenes of the Passion, is decorated with a bronze medallion of Joan of Arc and massive iron ornaments. In the centre of the room is a large grand piano by Pleyel. One side is filled with bookcases--works on Theology and Philosophy occupying a conspicuous place--and with musical scores; amongst these, the collection of ancient ones inherited by Gounod from his father-in-law is extremely valuable." "In this immense room," writes Mons. Pagnerre, "the author of 'Faust' can often be seen, clad in black velvet, with a loose cravat round his neck, and his feet imprisoned in small slippers fit for a woman. There is ever something feminine about Gounod. His conversation is charming and persuasive. The musician is a witty and eloquent conversationalist. His physiognomy is mobile, his voice is soft, and when he speaks it is like music."

The individuality of a great composer is ever attractive to his admirers, and when in addition to his gifts as a creator he possesses that peculiar qualification known as "personal magnetism," their enthusiasm occasionally causes them to outstep the bounds of common-sense. It is especially members of the fair sex who are prone to indulge in exaggerated expressions of hero-worship. The emotional nature of music causes it to appeal to their minds with such intensity that they make a fetish of their idol, and fall down and worship not only him but everything he touches and looks upon. There are plenty of most amusing incidents on record which might be cited in support of this. Amongst these I will mention the following, concerning which it may be said, _Se non è vero, è ben trovato_:

A story is told of a lady admirer of his who once paid him a visit. Noticing a cherry-stone on the mantelpiece, she annexed it, took it home and had it set by a jeweller as a brooch, surrounded by diamonds and pearls. Paying a visit to Gounod some weeks later the lady drew attention to her act of reverence, when Gounod said: "But, madam, I never eat cherries; the stone you found on the mantelpiece was from a cherry eaten by my servant Jean!" Tableau!

* * * * *

In summing up the qualifications of a great composer--and as such there can be no doubt that Gounod must be reckoned--it is evidently better to dwell upon that which he has actually achieved than upon what he may have left undone.

The composer of "Faust" has imprinted his mark in an unmistakable manner upon his epoch. He has struck a note that had not previously been heard, and if he has perhaps reiterated this note somewhat too frequently, thereby attenuating its effect, the credit of having been the first to employ it must not be refused to him.