Chapter XIV: Part 14

Excited by such a success Gounod at once renounced his orders, and entered without more delay upon the militant career of the art interrupted for so many years. He soon produced in public a pretty symphony in E flat, which, performed in a remarkable manner by the Saint Cecilia Society, then a worthy rival of that of the Conservatoire, won him the congratulations and sincere encouragement of the critics. Then, thanks to the assistance of Mme. Viardot, he was charged with writing for the _Opéra_ the score of a work in three acts, “Sapho,” the libretto of which had been confided to a young poet, Emile Angier, who was likewise in the morning of his career, and likewise destined for glory, and in this work the great artist whom we have just named, was to take the principal rôle. Notwithstanding all, “Sapho” was not well received by the public, or at least only moderately so and scarcely achieved more than what is called in France a success of esteem. Yet the work was an exceedingly good one, but the first step on a stage so important as that of the _Opéra_ is so difficult for a young composer to make! It must be said, however, that if the work as a whole was not judged entirely satisfactory, especially in regard to the scenic effects, etc., it presented a value which a fastidious critic stated in these terms: “The opera of “Sapho,” without being a good dramatic work, is the work of a distinguished musician who has style and lofty tendencies. M. Gounod has perfectly seized and happily rendered all the lyric parts of the subject which he has treated, but he has been less happy in trying to express the conflict of passions and the contrast of characters.” Certain pages in the score of “Sapho” were remarked as being quite individual in flavor, and the public were especially delighted with the beautiful song of the young shepherd, “Brontez le Thym, Brontes mes chêvres,” as well as the admirable couplets of “Sapho,” of a character so melancholy, and an inspiration so full of a delicate poetry. The work was performed on the 16th of April, 1851.

A year later the Comédie-Française produced a tragedy by Pousard, “Ulysse,” for which Gounod had written a number of beautiful choruses, redolent with the perfume of antiquity and full of a manly energy. Very soon the young composer appeared again at the _Opéra_ with a grand work in five acts called “La Nonne Sanglante,” the libretto of which, although signed by the names of Scribe and Germain Delavigne, was absolutely devoid of interest. He made a mistake in accepting this libretto, previously refused by several of his colleagues, among others Meyerbeer and Halévy, and which could not excite his inspiration. Notwithstanding some remarkable bits, some vigorous and beautiful scenes, the score of “La Nonne Sanglante” was really only secondary in value, and the work achieved a very mild success when it was produced Oct. 18, 1854, with Mlles. Werthermber, Poinsot and Dameron, MM. Gueymard, Depassio and Merly for interpreters. Its career was short, and it only lived through eleven performances. Gounod had not yet found his vein.

But better fortune was in store for him, and after a few years of silence he began the series of his successes by giving to the _Théâtre-Lyrique_, then very flourishing and very brilliant under the direction of M. Carvalho, “Le Médécin Malgré Lui.” The libretto of this had been arranged for _Opéra Comique_ by MM. Jules Barbier and Michel Carré, who had preserved the greater part of Molière’s prose. Although from a general point of view the comic sentiment may not be the dominant quality of his talent, yet that quality is far from lacking in Gounod, as is proved by “Le Médécin Malgré Lui,” which remains one of the most curious and most original of his attempts. In this work, which was performed Jan. 15, 1858, the composer revived with a rare cleverness the old forms of French music, while adding thereto the most ingenious and most piquant artifices of the modern science, and by clothing the whole with his masterly style he produced a work of a very unique color, flavor and character. “Le Médécin Malgré Lui,” which the public received with marked favor, seemed to prepare the great day of Gounod’s artistic life. Fourteen months after the appearance of this work, that is to say, on March 19, 1859, the composer gave to the same theatre the work which was to establish his fame upon a fixed basis. The reader of course divines that I refer to “Faust,” that masterpiece which can boast of such a brilliant, prolonged and universal success, and which will remain, perhaps, the author’s best title to the remembrance and recognition of posterity.

But let it not be supposed that the triumphal career of “Faust” was not confronted at the outset with difficulties and obstacles which appeared insurmountable. When it was carried by the authors to the _Théâtre-Lyrique_, there was in preparation at the Porte Saint Martin theatre another drama built on Goethe’s poem, and bearing the same name. M. Carvalho told Gounod that it would be necessary to await the result of the “Faust” at the Porte Saint Martin, for if that work won a success, it would be very difficult and very hazardous to offer another “Faust” to the public. So they waited, and the drama not proving a success, it was decided to proceed with the study of the opera. Gounod’s “Faust” was presented in the form styled in France _Opéra Comique_, that is to say, the singing parts being interspersed with spoken dialogue. (It was not until later when “Faust” passed into the repertoire of the _Opéra_ that this dialogue was replaced by recitatives.) The rôle of Marguerite was first given to Mme. Ugalde, but Mme. Carvalho having expressed a desire to take the rôle, after becoming acquainted with the music, the authors transferred it to her and consoled Mme. Ugalde by giving her the part of Mélodine in Victor Massé’s opera, “La Fée Carabosse,” which was being mounted at the same time. The rehearsals of “Faust” were very laborious. M. Carvalho, disconcerted by the new and daring character of the music, and by the poetic sentiment revealed in it, which he judged incompatible with stage requirements, picked a quarrel with the composer, declared his score too much developed, and constantly demanded new cuts and changes. Gounod, made uneasy by this lack of confidence, had yielded to several of these demands and had already consented to several suppressions, when at last M. Carvalho came to him one day with a proposition to suppress the beautiful final scene in the garden, fearing that this quiet scene, with no outburst or noise of any kind, would seem cold to the public and fail to produce an effect. This time Gounod, who had faith in his work and was conscious of its value, stood fast and immovable, declaring he would rather withdraw his score than to yield this point and consent to such a sacrifice. In short, after a whole series of combats and discussions of this sort, which were renewed daily, the work was finally brought out. Truth compels the confession that it was not fully understood at first; that the critics stood hesitating and undecided in the presence of a work so new in form, and that the public itself was of two minds regarding the value of the work, some applauding with enthusiasm while others harshly criticised. It is certain that the first reception was more cold and reserved than could have been desired, but gradually people began to understand and appreciate the beauties abounding in this exquisite score, and at last its success was complete, brilliant and incontestable, spreading first throughout France, then over Europe, then over the entire world, where “Faust” is to-day, and long has been, considered a great masterpiece, and its author’s best work. “Faust” has been played in all countries and translated into all languages. It is one of the first French works which Italy, before then so hostile and impenetrable to French music, has applauded with a sort of furor. In Germany, where for a number of years Spohr’s “Faust” reigned supreme, it was received in a triumphal manner, and completely dethroned the latter. It excited enthusiasm, not only in Vienna, Berlin, Dresden, Hamburg, Baden, Leipsic, Frankfort, Stuttgart and Darmstadt, not only in Milan, Rome, Venice, Naples, Florence, Genoa, Parma and Bologna, but in London, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Varsovie, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Brussels, Amsterdam, Madrid, Barcelona, Lisbon, etc., and even finally crossed the seas and became popular in the two Americas. It is perhaps the first work by a French composer which had such a rapid, complete and universal success. In Paris, “Faust” had been played more than four hundred times at the _Théâtre-Lyrique_ when the _Opéra_ signified a desire to appropriate it. The authors consented; but certain modifications were necessitated by this change of scene, and first of all the spoken dialogue had to be suppressed and replaced by recitatives. These changes effected, the work made its appearance at the _Opéra_ March 3, 1869, and there continued its successful career, counting five hundred performances in the space of eighteen years. The five hundredth was given on the 4th of November, 1887, and the six hundredth took place in the beginning of the year 1892, so that in Paris alone, “Faust” has already reached its thousandth performance. Such a success is without parallel in the annals of the theatre in France.

CHARLES GOUNOD.

Reproduction of an engraving made from a photograph in 1859, about the
time of the first production of Faust, Gounod being then in his
forty-first year.
]

Gounod had borrowed “Le Médécin Malgré Lui” from Molière; he had appropriated material from Goethe’s “Faust;” it was La Fontaine who furnished him the subject of a pretty opera, somewhat light in character, called “Philémon et Baucis,” performed at the _Théâtre-Lyrique_, Feb. 18, 1860. The score of “Philémon et Baucis” is a pleasant one, full of charm, in which tenderness and grace alternates with fun and buffoonery. The work, which was in three acts, achieved only a moderate success at the _Théâtre-Lyrique_; its real success dates from its transfer to the _Opéra Comique_, reduced to two acts. Since then it has never been taken from the repertoire of that theatre. But soon Gounod was to appear on the grand stage of the _Opéra_ with a work of large proportions, “La Reine de Saba.” Notwithstanding the fame which his previous works had made for him, he was no more fortunate with “La Reine de Saba” (Feb. 29, 1862) than he had been with “La Nonne Sanglante.” It is true that this time the trouble lay principally in the libretto of his collaborators, which was absolutely devoid of interest. For it is but just to say that if the score of “La Reine de Saba” is of unequal merit and of a secondary character, it nevertheless contains some superb and exquisite pages, like the noble air of Balkis, and the beautiful chorus of the Jewesses and the Sabians. However, it only lived through fifteen performances at Paris, though it should be remarked that in certain foreign cities it was received with great favor, and that in Brussels and Darmstadt, among others, its success was considerable.

Gounod’s unfortunate attempts at the _Opéra_ led him to turn his attention anew to the _Théâtre-Lyrique_, where he brought out, March 19, 1864, a work entitled “Mireille,” the subject of which was taken from a pretty provincial poem by Frederic Mistral, bearing the same title, (Mireio). This poem is an exquisite pastorale, written in that provincial language at once so musical, so sweet and harmonious, a language which is melody in itself. Unhappily, the libretto which Gounod set to music on this subject was badly chosen, being ill adapted to the stage, and therefore militated against the composer’s work, although the latter contained some truly charming pages. The first act, particularly, radiant with light and sunshine, is charmingly poetic, and especially deserving of mention is the beautiful chorus of the magnarelles and the touching duet of Mireille and Vincent. The score contains still other charming bits, such as Magali’s beautiful song and Taven’s couplets: Voici la saison, mignonne. However, the defective libretto stood in the way of the success of the work, which at first remained undecided. It was found necessary to entirely rewrite the work, to make large suppressions, and reduce it from five to three acts, which did not result in its being any better received by the public. It was not until later, when it was transferred to the _Opéra Comique_ after having been subjected to still further revisions and cast in its final form, that “Mireille” at last found the success which its incontestable musical value merited. Thereafter, it never left the repertoire of that theatre.

No particular importance can be attached to a little work in two acts, “La Colombe,” which Gounod gave to the _Opéra Comique_ in 1866, and which he had written some years before for the theatre at Baden; it was a sort of salon operetta, without special character or consequence. But the composer was yet to carry off one of the most brilliant victories of his career with “Roméo et Juliette” which made its first appearance at the _Théâtre-Lyrique_ on the 27th of April, 1867. More fortunate than “Faust” and “Mireille,” whose success had been so difficult to establish, “Roméo et Juliette” was well received from the very outset, and this superb score in which the passion of love and the sentiment of chivalry are so happily united, immediately found favor with the public. Nor has it ever ceased to excite public sympathy, and it has changed its biding-place from the _Théâtre-Lyrique_ to the _Opéra Comique_, and from that theatre to the _Opéra_ without experiencing any diminution of public interest. “Roméo et Juliette” has exceeded the number of five hundred performances in Paris, one hundred of which were at the _Théâtre-Lyrique_, about three hundred at the _Opéra Comique_ and more than one hundred at the _Opéra_. Outside of France it has not been less successful, and it has made a part of the repertoire of all the great theatres of Europe.

Moreover, “Roméo et Juliette” marks the culminating point in the career of Gounod, who since then has not been able to equal its success. In 1870 the master went to London where he remained for several years, working and producing much. There it was that he wrote, among other things, an opera called “George Dandin,” to the prose of Molière, which has not yet been performed; it was there also that he wrote, for the Universal Exposition at London in 1871, a grand cantata entitled “Gallia,” which was performed later at Paris, where it was very favorably received. A warm welcome was also given to the music which Gounod wrote for “Jeanne d’Arc,” a drama in verse by Jules Barbier which was performed at the Gaiety on Nov. 8, 1873. This music consisted of melodramas, interludes, choruses, etc., and contained some very interesting pages. The preceding year the Ventadour theatre had brought out a drama in verse by Ernest Legouvé for which Gounod had written a score of the same kind; this drama was called “Les Deux Reines de France.”

In these two works the music was merely an accessory, and the composer was only the humble servant of the poet, whom he discreetly aided and supplemented. But Gounod had not given up the idea of appearing again before the public as a true dramatic musician. Ten years had elapsed since he had given “Roméo et Juliette,” and the public were growing impatient for a new work from him, when in 1877 the _Opéra Comique_ announced the performance of “Cinq-Mars.” This was an artistic treat in which all Paris desired to participate, but which did not wholly justify the hopes which it had raised. The score of “Cinq-Mars” was certainly far from being worthless; it was written in a musical language that was superb and noble in style, but aside from a few exquisite pages, it did not have the freshness, the abundance and the generosity of inspiration which had hitherto characterized Gounod’s work. It was unequal, cold at intervals, and one no longer felt that vigor of youth, that warmth of accent which had made the triumph of the master’s great productions. In a word “Cinq-Mars” was received with sympathy but not enthusiasm, and as soon as the novelty had passed it disappeared without causing any disquietude.

GOUNOD’S RESIDENCE ON BOULEVARD MALESHERBES IN PARIS.

From a photograph made in April, 1891.
]

The following year Gounod presented himself again at the _Opéra_. For a long time past he had felt the desire to attempt one of the Corneille’s masterpieces, and he had formed the plan of setting “Polyeucte” to music, and transforming it into a lyric drama. It was a subject half religious, half profane, which seemed peculiarly suited to his intellectual temperament. He charged his friend, Jules Barbier, with fashioning a libretto from Corneille’s celebrated tragedy, which the latter followed step by step, even preserving some of the great poet’s verses, and he wrote the music of this new “Polyeucte,” which was performed at the _Opéra_, Oct. 7, 1878. But it was said that the author of “Faust” and “Roméo,” both so successful at the _Opéra_, after having been born and bred elsewhere, could never succeed at that theatre with a work written expressly for it. “Polyeucte,” indeed, was not well received, and scarcely deserved to be, and its career ended with a series of twenty-nine performances. The composer was not much more fortunate with “Le Tribut de Zamora,” another work which he gave to the _Opéra_, April 1, 1881. This work, however, had been staged with great splendor and magnificence, the costumes and decorations were very rich and elaborate, and what was still more important, the two principal rôles were taken by artists of the first rank, M. Lassalle and Mme. Gabrielle Krauss, the latter especially being very fine in the character of Xaïma. But nothing could counteract the insipidity and insignificance of the work, and notwithstanding the luxury brought to its support, notwithstanding the incontestable talent of its interpreters, “Le Tribut de Zamora” scarcely lived through fifty performances. This was the last dramatic effort of Charles Gounod, who seems to-day to have finally given up the theatre, and whose health has been steadily declining for a number of years.

But Gounod has not confined himself exclusively to the theatre; his very remarkable fertility has exercised itself in all directions, particularly in the religious genre, so well suited to his nature. Gounod’s religious compositions are very numerous, and since he has renounced the stage he has achieved some striking successes in oratorio. “La Redemption,” (1882) a sacred trilogy, of which he wrote the music and the French words, and “Mors et Vita,” another sacred trilogy, the Latin text of which he arranged himself from the Catholic liturgy and the Vulgate, won for him triumphs which the great merit of these beautiful compositions fully justified. Since his youth Gounod has produced a great number of sacred works, several of which are of rare beauty, such as the “Messe des Orphéonistes” (1853), the “Messe de Sainte Cécile” (1855), a mass in C minor (1867), a mass of the Sacred Heart (1876), a mass to the memory of Joan of Arc (1887), a mass for two voices, a short mass in C major, three solemn masses, two Requiem masses, a “Stabat Mater,” a “Te Deum,” a hymn to Saint Augustin, “Les Sept Paroles du Christ,” “Jésus sur le lac de Tibériade,” a choral psalmody, “Tobie,” a little oratorio, and a considerable number of motets of different kinds.

In profane music, and aside from the theatre, Gounod has shown himself scarcely less fertile. His two symphonies, (first in D, second in E flat) and his “Temple de l’Harmonie,” cantata with choruses, are all compositions of great merit. I would mention also “Biondina,” a pretty little lyric poem, and especially would I call attention to his beautiful male choruses, and to his songs of which he has written more than a hundred, and among which are to be found veritable masterpieces of poetry and sentiment, such as “Le Vallon,” “Le Soir,” “Medjé,” “l’Envoi de Fleurs,” “Le Printemps,” “La Prière du Soir,” “Venise,” etc. In this style of composition Gounod’s repertoire is varied, substantial and charming, and few French writers have given us a note so personal and original.

In attempting to characterize the genius of Gounod, and to determine the place which he should occupy in the history of contemporaneous art, it is necessary to consider principally “Faust” and “Roméo et Juliette.” These are his two masterpieces, and it is through these works that the composer has truly revealed his personality and his genius; it is through these works that his name has become famous and will go down to posterity. It is of these works, then, that we must demand the secret of that powerful influence which Gounod has exerted for more than a quarter of a century over the art, over artists and over the public.

Fac-simile autograph manuscript from Gounod’s “Romeo and Juliet.”
]

Although not performed until a year after “Le Médécin Malgré Lui,” “Faust” was written first. In this work the musician had been intelligently served by his collaborators, who had taken from Goethe’s masterpiece all that which pertained to the action and to the dramatic passion, and left judiciously alone all the psychological, philosophical and metaphysical dissertations. The libretto was admirably cut for the stage, varied in tone and coloring, and contained a fair quota of that fantastic element so effective on the stage and so well liked by the public. And never was the musician better inspired. The Kermesse scene is full of warmth and sunshine; the garden scene is one of an ethereal and enchanting poetry, and the words of passion are by turns softly languishing or full of an intense energy; the scene in the church, where Mephistopheles, pursuing Marguerite even to the very shades of the sanctuary, tries to arrest her prayer, and prevent the unfortunate victim from taking refuge in the Divine mercy, is stamped with a rare feeling of grandeur, and reveals a profoundly dramatic character. Finally, the episode of the death of Valentine and his malediction of Marguerite forms a pathetic and superb scene, which, with its numerous and varied incidents is surely one of the best of this remarkable work.

It is a singular thing that the two musicians whose personal and original genius characterize in some sort, from points of view otherwise very different, the reform tendencies of the present French school, should both fall upon these two great masterpieces, “Faust” and “Roméo et Juliette,” each interpreting them after his own manner and according to his own temperament. It was Berlioz who first conceived the idea of appropriating them, and long before Gounod had dreamed of such a thing, had given us “Roméo et Juliette” and his “Damnation de Faust.” Comparison between the works of these two artists is impossible, because of the dissimilarity of their natures and aspirations. In regard to “Faust,” however, we may say that Berlioz, who did not make an opera of it, but a grand musical legend, preserving thus one of the peculiar characteristics of the original work, treated especially the energetic and picturesque part of the drama, whereas Gounod chose rather to reproduce the love poetry, the exalted reverie and that mystic and supernatural perfume which characterizes Goethe’s poem. Although the charming Kermesse scene in Gounod’s score, which is an episode apart from the action, is very well executed, highly colored, of a really exceptional musical interest, it cannot be denied that in picturesque sentiment Berlioz has singularly surpassed his rival in the various and typical episodes of his “Damnation de Faust,” the latin song of the students, the soldier’s chorus, the Hungarian march, the ballet of the sylphs, the military retreat, the chorus of the sylphs and gnomes, etc. On the other hand, whatever is tender and emotional, dreamy and poetic, has been admirably treated by Gounod, and it is by certain unobtrusive fragments, certain almost hidden passages in his score that the hand of a master, the inspiration of a poet is betrayed, that the man of genius is revealed. Witness Marguerite’s response to Faust as he approaches her at the entrance of the chapel:

“Non, monsieur, je ne suis demoiselle ni belle,
Et je n’ai pas besoin qu’on me donne la main.”

or Marguerite’s reflection in her garden,

“Je voudrais bien savoir quel était ce jeune homme,
Si c’est un grand seigneur et comment il se nomme.”

Not only are these two fragments perfect, finished, exquisite, from a musical point of view, but they exhale besides I know not what mysterious perfume. They give the hearer so complete a perception of the sentiment which Marguerite is fated to prove for “Faust,” that they have, aside from the scenic import, a kind of mystic and profound meaning which seems impossible to translate into music, and which strikes, nevertheless, the most indifferent ears. It is this peculiar, we may say hitherto unknown sense, which gives Gounod’s “Faust” its true color, its character at once tender and dreamy, mysterious and fascinating, melancholy and passionate, and which assigns to it a place apart, a unique place among the number of the most original works of contemporary art. It is easy to see in this work that Gounod’s intellectual tendencies, his youthful sympathies, his leanings toward a religious and monastic life, have not been without influence on his musical temperament, and on the very nature of his talent.

If “Faust” is an exquisite work, “Roméo et Juliette” is a superb one, of a grand and spirited style, in which the external and material picture of a chivalric world contrasts strikingly with the internal analysis of a passionate love, constrained to conceal itself from all eyes, yet from this very cause becoming all the more powerful. If one wished to enter into what might be called a psychological analysis of the score, it would be necessary to discover how great were the difficulties of the composer in writing “Roméo” without repeating himself, after having written “Faust.” For, although the subjects of the two works differ widely, we see the same situations reproduced in each, under the same scenic conditions, and the stumbling block was all the more troublesome since these situations were the most salient ones, and constituted, as it were, the very core of the dramatic action. Witness the balcony scene of “Roméo” and the garden scene of “Faust” or the duel of Roméo and Tybalt with the death of the latter, in the first, and the duel of Faust and Valentine, also mortal, in the second. Truly a musician must have a singular power, a very remarkable faculty of reiteration, to attempt successfully such a repetition of similar episodes.

GOUNOD IN HIS STUDY.

Reproduction of a photograph from life made by Dornac & Cie., Paris.
]

And what scene so marvelous as that balcony scene of Roméo, chaste and passionate throughout! What earnest and trembling accents on the lips of the two fond lovers whom the world—a world of strife and contention—seems bound to separate forever! And what newness, what a winning fearlessness, what a balmy freshness in the melodic sentiment which the composer employs to express the sensations which stir the hearts of his tender heroes! Could love be expressed in a more exquisite and more touching manner?

On the other hand, and by contrast, what scene more striking in its grandeur, more spirited, more manly, than that of the double duel, Tybalt and Mercutio, Roméo and Tybalt! Here the musician has so wonderfully colored his inspiration that he has raised up a world of the past before our very eyes, and, while listening, we feel that surely we must be present at one of the cruel episodes of that long and bloody struggle between the Capulets and the Montagues. The insult slung by Tybalt in the face of Roméo, agitated, but contained, Mercutio’s objurgations, the first duel of the latter with Tybalt, who strikes him to the heart, Roméo’s rage at seeing his friend expire, the fury with which he throws himself in his turn upon Tybalt, and the second combat, fatal to the latter, all this the composer has rendered in an admirable manner, with a spirit, a verve, a power, a dramatic movement and a picturesque feeling which make of this episode a page full of grandeur, and worthy to compete with the painting of a Titian or of a Veronese. In considering this remarkable score, so rich from beginning to end and so varied in its unity, we cannot pass over the austere and touching marriage scene, the lark duo and the episode of the death of the two lovers. Truly, it is a work of the highest order, which yields in nothing to “Faust,” and is perhaps superior to it in certain parts and in certain ways.

It is in “Faust” and “Roméo” that Gounod has not only given the full measure of his genius, but has made most conspicuous the true personal tendencies of that genius and his own originality. It is there that his musical phrase, so fascinating, so new in form and characteristic in outline, is developed in all its fullness and all its freedom. It is there that his harmonies, so rich, so refined, so piquant, and sometimes so unexpected, are the most abundantly and happily displayed. It is there that his ingenious instrumentation, full of color and grace and always elegant, that transparent instrumentation we might say, at the same time dignified and full, has embraced those exquisite passages which always thrill delicate and sensitive ears. It is there that passion speaks a truly enchanting language, that emotion attains the highest limits of its power, and it is the aggregate of all these qualities which make the master’s genius stand out in bold relief and which shows it off in the most complete and striking fashion.

But if “Faust” and “Roméo” are worthy of so much admiration, that does not mean that no importance or sympathy should be attached to the composer’s other works, which, though less perfect and less lofty in character, are none the less deserving of the most active appreciation on the part of the public and of true artists. “Philémon et Baucis,” “Mireille,” “Le Médécin Malgré Lui,” are productions of unquestionable merit, and even in “Sapho” and “La Reine de Saba,” weak and unequal as they undoubtedly are, one may find pages of the rarest beauty. It should be remarked that even in his least successful works, what we may always admire in Gounod is the noblesse of his language and the splendor of his style. It is necessary to add that if, as is generally believed, fertility is a sign of force, Gounod deserves to be classed among the strongest! Few artists, indeed, have produced more or in greater variety, opera, oratorio, symphony, religious music, cantatas, vocal chamber music, (set to French, English or Italian words) choruses with or without accompaniment, compositions for piano or organ, he has touched them all, and in all has given proof of the most substantial and brilliant qualities.

A very convincing proof of the power of Gounod’s personality is the influence which he has exerted for more than quarter of a century on the young French school of music. The author of Faust has brought into the art a note entirely new and unknown before him. This dreamy, poetic note is stamped with a grace and melancholy which characterizes all of Gounod’s work, and vainly have young musicians sought to reproduce and tried their best to imitate the methods of a master whose genius they did not possess, and who remained for them inimitable. Nevertheless, this influence of Gounod is the sign and the proof of his creative power.

One could scarcely pass over, in speaking of such an artist, his literary proclivities, and the desire which he manifested on different occasions to set forth his ideas and the principles which he professed in matters of art. All French musicians of the present period are afflicted with a mania for writing. Not only great artists like Reyer and Saint-Saëns, following the example of Berlioz, Halévy and Adolpe Adam, undertake to criticise and make themselves the judges of their colleagues, but the most inconsequential composer of operettas gives himself to-day the airs of a writer, and believes himself called upon to deliver himself of long esthetic and philosophic discussions on the art of which he deems himself one of the noblest representatives.

Gounod has not escaped the general contagion. It is only just to state, however, that he has not abused his pen in this connection, and that usually it has been occasion, rather than preconceived desire, that has caused him to take it up. The most important writing which we owe to Gounod is the remarkable volume which he has published under the title of “Le ‘Don Juan’ de Mozart,” in which he expresses very clearly his profound admiration for the master, of whom he declares himself to be one of the most ardent, respectful and faithful of disciples. In addition to this Gounod has given to various journals or periodicals some articles of running criticism or of musical philosophy (“De la Routine en Matière d’Art,” “Le Public,” “La Critique,” “Les Compositeurs Chefs d’Orchestre,” “La Propriété Artistique,” “l’Enseignement,” “La Critique Musicale Anglaise,” “Les Pères de l’Eglise de la Musique,” etc.) He has also given an interesting preface to the volume of “Lettres Intimes” by Berlioz, and he has published a preface intended to accompany his score of “George Dandin,” a score which has not yet seen the light and perhaps never will. He enumerated and discussed in this curious preface the reasons which led him to set prose to music—and what prose! That of Molière; in other words, the most compact, substantial and solid prose which it is possible to imagine. Some years since a report was spread abroad that Gounod was preparing a book in which he would refute the doctrines and theories of Richard Wagner. I do not know whether he really ever conceived such a project, but if he did I regret that he did not put it in execution. For it seems to me that whatever might be his ideas on this subject it would be an exceedingly interesting thing, to have an artist like Gounod express his opinions on an artist like Wagner.

I return to Gounod the composer. However little enthusiasm his detractors—for he has them—may feel for his genius, they are none the less obliged to confess that genius, and the power and influence exerted by him upon the public—a public which everywhere, in all the countries of the world, has applauded his works. The artists who are sharply discussed are usually the ones who possess true worth. More noble than majestic, more tender than pathetic, more pensive than enthusiastic, more deliberate than spontaneous, the immense talent of the author of “Faust” glitters with a multitude of rare qualities, and in that talent one may almost say that study, constant and indefatigable study, has as great a part as inspiration. Not only is Gounod a fine man of letters, well versed in the knowledge of the languages and of masterpieces, but, from a musical point of view, few artists have, like him, been nourished by the marrow of lions. There is no great musician whom Gounod does not know, as it were, by heart, and he has only enthusiastic admiration for the old masters. It was he, who, listening one day at the Conservatoire to Beethoven’s Choral Symphony, ran up to a friend and cried, his face all aglow and wildly waving the score, “It is the Bible of the musician!” On another occasion when, at a certain salon, conversation fell on music, and the proper rank of the different musicians was under discussion, he delivered himself of the following sentiment. “If the greatest masters, Beethoven, Haydn, Mozart, could be annihilated by an unheard-of cataclysm, as the painters might be by fire, it would be easy to reconstruct all the music with Bach. In the firmament of art, Bach is a nebula which has not yet condensed.”

I have said that study is almost as great a part as inspiration in the talent of Gounod, which may be said of all truly superior artists; one might add that this talent acquired a very individual color from the alliance of the artist’s almost mystic sentiments with a very keen comprehension of the human passions and the storms of the heart. There has remained by Gounod a sort of recollection of his first years vowed by him to theological studies and of his leaning toward a monastic life and the seclusion of the cloister; possibly it is this which characterizes his genius in such a special way, which gives it its originality, its peculiar and its exceptional flavor, although it is difficult to determine with precision how much his artistic personality gained and how much it lost by the influence of the ideas and aspirations of his youth upon his later imagination.

Musically and dramatically Gounod is more of a spiritualist than materialist, more poet than painter, more elegiac and vigorous than deeply pathetic; this is perhaps the reason that some have pronounced him lacking in dramatic sense. In this they are mistaken, for it is not dramatic sense, that is to say, impassioned perception, which sometimes fails Gounod; it is, properly speaking, temperament. But after all is said, the author of “Faust,” of “Mireille” and of “Roméo” remains a true poet, an inspired creator, an artist of the first rank, and if not one of those who illumine the world with a dazzling light, at least one of those who charm it, who touch it, who make it listen and make it think, His part is a sufficiently beautiful one, with which he may well be satisfied.

]

PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.—Since the foregoing was written, the death of Charles Gounod has been announced. On October 16, 1893, he was stricken with apoplexy, and lingered until the 18th. He died at St. Cloud, and was buried in the family vault at Auteuil.

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Footnote 1:

Compare Ferdinand Praeger’s “Wagner as I knew Him,” Chaps. XIV. and
XV., with “1849: A Vindication,” by W. Ashton Ellis. See also letter
of Aug. 9, 1849, to Theodore Uhlig. [Letters to Uhlig, Fischer, and
Heine, London, H. Grevel & Co.]

Footnote 2:

“Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt,” Vol. I., p. 77. H. Grevel & Co.,
London.

Footnote 3:

“You are a truly wonderful man, and your Nibelungen poem is surely the
most incredible thing which you have ever done.”—_Letter of Liszt,
Feb. 20, 1853._

Footnote 4:

See Praeger’s “Wagner as I knew Him,” Chaps. XVIII. and XIX., for full
account of this visit.

Footnote 5:

“Richard Wagner; his Life and Works,” by Adolphe Jullien. Boston, J.
B. Millet Co.

Footnote 6:

“Production of ‘Tannhäuser’ in Paris,” Wagner, translated by E. L.
Burlingame, in “Art Life and Theories of Wagner.” Henry Holt & Co.

Footnote 7:

“Wagner,” by Edward Dannreuther, in Grove’s Dictionary of Music. Also
“The ‘Parsifal’ of Richard Wagner,” by Maurice Kufferath.

Footnote 8:

“Studies in Modern Music,” by W. A. Hadow. Macmillan & Co.

Footnote 9:

“Studies in the Wagnerian Drama,” by H. E. Krehbiel. Harper & Bros.

Footnote 10:

“History of Music,” Emil Naumann, Vol. I., p. 524. Cassell & Co.

Footnote 11:

“The Music of the Future,” E. L. Burlingame’s translation.

Footnote 12:

Condensation, by F. Hueffer, of a passage from “A Communication to my
Friends.”

Footnote 13:

“Art and Revolution,” W. Ashton Ellis’s translation.

Footnote 14:

The writer of this article does not wish to be understood as agreeing
with Wagner in all the utterances quoted; the selections have been
made with the design of throwing light upon the workings of Wagner’s
mind in the formulation of his theories.

Footnote 15:

“Studies in the Wagnerian Drama.”

Footnote 16:

E. C. Stedman, “The Nature and Elements of Poetry,” p. 99.

Footnote 17:

“Preludes and Studies,” p. 112.

Footnote 18:

“Preludes and Studies,” p. 48.

Footnote 19:

See Kleinmichel piano score of “Die Walküre,” p. 304.

Footnote 20:

“From the Tone World,” by Louis Ehlert. Charles Tretbar, New York.

Footnote 21:

Article “Harmony,” in Grove’s Dictionary of Music, by C. H. H. Parry.

Footnote 22:

See articles on “Music in Italy,” and on the Netherland masters.

Footnote 23:

A complete edition of Buxtehude’s works has recently been published in
Leipzig.

Footnote 24:

Mozart, it will be remembered, saw none of Bach’s choral works until
two years before his death.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

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1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 3. Re-indexed footnotes using numbers and collected together at the end of the last chapter. 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.