Part 3

From his earliest age he displayed exceptional musical aptitudes, and showed signs of an undoubted vocation for the career in which he was destined so conspicuously to shine. In her "Life of Gounod" Mdlle. de Bovet relates the following anecdotes of his childhood: "At the age of two, in the gardens of Passy, where he was taken for exercise, he would say, 'That dog barks in Sol,' and the neighbours used to call him _Le petit musicien_. He likes to repeat what he said one day in that far distant childhood. He had been listening to the different cries of the street vendors, 'Oh!' he exclaimed suddenly, 'that woman cries out a Do that weeps.' The two notes with which she hawked her carrots and cabbages actually formed the minor third--C, E flat. The baby, scarcely out of his leading-strings, already felt the mournful character of this combination."

When about seven years of age he was taken to hear Weber's "Freischütz," or rather the mutilated version of this masterpiece by Castil-Blaze known under the name of "Robin des Bois." The impression produced upon his youthful mind by Weber's beautiful melodies appears to have been very great. A few years later, when a schoolboy, he heard Rossini's "Otello" interpreted by Malibran and Rubini, and the Italian "maestro's" florid strains seem to have struck him in an equal degree. His enthusiasm, however, reached its highest pitch when he became acquainted with "Don Giovanni." He has ever since been an ardent devotee at the shrine of Mozart, and of late years his admiration for the master's music seems, if anything, to have increased.

Having had the misfortune to lose his father at an early age, he was brought up under the care of his mother. His first studies in composition were pursued under Reicha, one of the most celebrated theorists of the time; and having completed his general education at the college of St. Louis, he entered the classes of the Conservatoire in 1836, receiving instruction in counterpoint from Halévy, and in composition from Lesueur. In 1839 he obtained the "Grand prix de Rome," and soon afterwards left for Italy. During his sojourn in Rome Gounod devoted himself largely to the study of religious music, and spent a great portion of his time in perusing the works of Palestrina and Bach.

Whilst residing at the famous Villa Médicis he made the acquaintance of Fanny Hensel, the sister of Mendelssohn, in whose correspondence may be found several interesting details concerning the future composer of "Faust."

In a letter dated April 23, 1840, she writes: "Gounod has a passion for music; it is a pleasure to have such a listener. My little Venetian air delights him; he has also a predilection for the Romance in B Minor composed here at Rome, for the duet of Felix, his 'Capriccio' in A minor, and especially for the concerto of Bach, which he has made me play more than ten times over." Later on, in another letter, she writes as follows: "On Saturday evening I played to my guests, and performed, amongst other things, the Concerto of Bach; although they know it by heart, their enthusiasm goes 'crescendo.' They pressed and kissed my hands, especially Gounod, who is extraordinarily expansive; he always finds himself short of expressions when he wishes to convey to me the influence I exercise over him, and how happy my presence makes him. Our two Frenchmen form a perfect contrast: Bousquet's nature is calm and correct, Gounod's is passionate and romantic to excess. Our German music produces upon him the effect of a bomb bursting inside a house."

In June 1840 Fanny Hensel and her husband left for Naples. The following extract from a letter is interesting, as showing to what extent, even at that early period, Gounod had become imbued with religious ideas: "Bousquet confided to us on the way his fears concerning the religious exaltation of Gounod since he had come under the ascendancy of the Père Lacordaire ... whose eloquence had already during the previous winter grouped around him a number of young men. Gounod, whose character is weak and whose nature is impressionable, was at once gained over by Lacordaire's stirring words; he has just become a member of the association entitled 'John the Evangelist,' exclusively composed of young artists who pursue the regeneration of humanity through the means of art. The association contains a large number of young men belonging to the best Roman families; several amongst these have abandoned their career in order to enter into holy orders. Bousquet's impression is that Gounod is also on the point of exchanging music for the priest's garb."

In 1843 we find Gounod in Vienna, where a "Requiem" of his composition attracted some attention. On his return to Paris he vainly endeavoured to find a publisher for some songs he had composed while at Rome. When we hear that these included "Le Vallon," "Le Soir," "Jésus de Nazareth," and "Le Printemps"--that is to say, some of the most beautiful inspirations that have emanated from his brain--it becomes difficult to account for the obtuseness of the publishers.

Discouraged in this quarter, Gounod devoted his attention once more to religious music, and accepted the post of organist to the chapel of the "Missions Etrangères." He even entertained the idea of entering into holy orders. Happily this was not to be. The name of Gounod was becoming known in musical circles, and through the influence of Mme. Viardot, the celebrated singer, sister of Malibran, the young composer was commissioned to write the music of an opera to a book by Emile Augier,[12] for the "Académie Nationale." This, his first contribution to the lyric stage, was "Sapho," which was brought out in 1851, without, however, achieving much more than a _succès d'estime_. It was revived in a curtailed form seven years later, and finally, remodelled and enlarged, was reproduced in 1884. Notwithstanding its failure to attract the public, "Sapho" commanded the approbation of many competent judges, amongst whom we find no less a musician than Berlioz, who thus expressed himself upon the composer's merits: "M. Gounod is a young musician endowed with precious qualities, whose tendencies are noble and elevated, and whom one should encourage and honour, all the more so as our musical epoch is so corrupt."

"Sapho" is by no means the worst opera Gounod has composed, though unequal as a whole. The original version remains the best.

The year after the production of "Sapho" Gounod married a daughter of Zimmermann,[13] a well-known musician and professor.

His next venture was at the Théâtre Français, for which he wrote incidental music to "Ulysse," a tragedy by Ponsard. A detail to note is that the orchestra was conducted by Offenbach. Although the music to this was universally praised, it did not suffice to save the piece from dire failure. "La Nonne Sanglante," a five-act opera, founded upon a novel by Monk Lewis, produced in 1854, was even less successful than "Sapho." At the same time, the press was sufficiently favourable, and Gounod's reputation, though awaiting its final consecration, was at any rate on the increase. It is as well to mention here the success achieved in London of some religious compositions of Gounod's at a concert given in 1851, which called forth an enthusiastic article in the _Athenæum_.

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.