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.
Mons. Adolphe Jullien judges him severely when he says that the more he has had occasion to hear and study his works, the more convinced he has become that Gounod possesses the genius of assimilation. According to him, the greatness of Gounod's talent is derived through the study of the works of all the masters, and especially of those of Bach, Handel, Schumann, and Berlioz. This I consider open to doubt. That Gounod has studied the works of his predecessors and profited thereby is evident, but this has been the case with all musicians. Something more is required to compose a work such as "Faust"; that something which is the appanage of but few composers, and which is known as "individuality."
Mons. Arthur Pougin, in his Supplement to Fétis's "Dictionnaire des Musiciens," thus describes the genius of Gounod: "Musically and as regards the theatre, M. Gounod is more spiritualistic than materialistic, more of a poet than a painter, more elegiac and more nervous than truly pathetic. It is perhaps this that has caused people to say that he lacked dramatic feeling; those who have expressed themselves thus have been mistaken, for it is not the dramatic feeling—that is to say, la perception passionée—which Gounod occasionally wants, but rather the temperament. At the same time, the author of 'Faust,' 'Roméo,' 'Le Médecin Malgré Lui,' remains a true poet, an inspired creator, an artist of the first rank and of high order."