Part 32
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.
[Illustration:
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.
[Illustration: Arthur Pougin]
[Illustration: [Composer]]
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
Page Changed from Changed to 562 this a race of tragic heroes this is a race of tragic heroes
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_.