From an oil portrait by J. S. Duplessis, Paris, 1776, Gluck being then in his sixty-second year. The painting is now in the Imperial picture gallery, at Vienna.
From Dresden Gluck turned, for the second time, to the music-loving empire city on the Danube (1748). He had left it a scholar, but returned a master, and as such was recognized and honored in all the circles of Vienna. He found a zealous patron in the Prince of Hildburghausen, the favorite of Maria Theresa, through whose intercession he soon obtained an order for the composition of an opera to be given on the birthday of the Empress. This opera was the "Semiramide riconosciuta," by Metastasio, a Viennese court poet then at the height of his fame. It is needless to say that we look in vain for the least indication of a change in Gluck's style, as it was in Metastasio's librettos that the type of the older opera intended almost exclusively for vocalists was most pronounced, and in setting these to music it was necessary to conform to the prevalent fashion.
Gluck retained this style, also, in his following works, which need be merely mentioned: the perfected serenade "Tetide" (1749), given in the theatre of Castle Charlottesburg at Copenhagen at a birthday fête for the Crown Prince, afterward King Christian VII.; also the operas written for Rome and Naples, "Telemachus" (1749) and "La Clemenza di Tito" (1751) by Metastasio, both noteworthy, in that Gluck, later, availed himself of several of their numbers in the masterpieces of his Parisian epoch. These were followed by a long list of similar works, for Gluck displayed, even then, a restless activity, though in 1750 he married, and with his Marianna, a daughter of the rich Venetian merchant Pergin, experienced all the joy of a happy marriage which remained undisturbed till his death. Two impulses in the next decade of Gluck's activity deserve special mention; one was his eager interest in literature. "Gifted by nature with as great a love for literature as for music," says his biographer Anton Schmidt, "he now worked with incessant energy in this province as well. Though somewhat late, he applied himself to a thorough study of Latin and French and to poetry. He made the acquaintance of the most distinguished men of science, that through intercourse with them and in the companionship of good books he might cultivate the ideas which had so long been ingrafted in his nature concerning the mighty influence of music and its close connection with poetry, of which at this time but few had even dreamed."—"C. W. Ritter von Gluck," p. 79.
The second was his acquaintance with the French comic opera, which until the year 1752 had been given only on the improvised stage; a new era began for this when in the same year a troupe of Italian bouffe singers arrived in Paris and was received with enthusiastic interest by the public. For the first time scenes from daily life appropriately staged were enacted upon the operatic stage in place of the customary frigid representation of a mythological character. All this was to the extreme disgust of the conservative, but to the unbounded delight of the progressive who, with the representative of philosophic enlightenment J. J. Rousseau, anticipated for art and life a healthy return from artificial to natural conditions. In the bitter struggle between these parties, a struggle to which the appearance of the opera-bouffe gave rise, progress was victorious. The most competent poets and composers of France did not hesitate to follow the lead of Italy, and while from the modest "Intermezzo" they developed the "Opera comique," they showed the world that owing to her artistic nature France, above all other nations, was best fitted to represent this new style of art. In view of the influence which France had exerted over the intellectual life of Europe since the time of Louis XIV., it was quite natural that the neighboring nations should wish to share in the new acquisition. From 1755 therefore, the comic opera, which originated in Paris, was invariably performed in Vienna as well. Meanwhile, in most cases the librettos were satisfactory and the composition was confided to local musicians, among whom Gluck took first rank, having been Kapellmeister since 1754. His works of this kind which are preserved to us as "Airs nouveaux" to the respective librettos, consist of songs with simple piano accompaniment in light French style. One of these operettas, Lemonnier's "Cadi dupé," became a great favorite throughout Germany under the title of "Der betrogene Cadi," and when given again but a short while ago in the opera house at Berlin, it maintained, in spite of its hundred years, its original crispness and popularity. Gluck's French operettas may be regarded as occasional works, as incidental to his masterpieces. They are not to be lightly esteemed, however, for they virtually served to bring his ideas of reform to a focus and to prepare him for the war which he subsequently declared against the older Italian opera.
The beginning of this war coincided with the acquaintance made by Gluck, about 1760, of Raniero di Calzabigi, counsellor of the chamber-of-accounts for the Netherlands in Vienna (the Netherlands were then under Austrian government), and the author of many excellent dramatic works. In him Gluck found a friend who shared his convictions that the Italian opera needed depth and improvement, that it could not accomplish its end in the form which Metastasio had given it. Calzabigi declared himself ready to assist the master in working out his plans, and the fruit of their efforts was the opera "Orfeo ed Euridice" (Orpheus and Euridice), which was first given Oct. 5, 1762, in the Imperial Theatre at Vienna. This excited enthusiastic applause, but was received with disfavor and astonishment as well, for many of the hearers accustomed to the former style of the Italian opera, were far more confused than edified by music based chiefly upon dramatic truth. Gluck had given unusual attention to the artists of this opera; as he later told the English composer Burney, it cost him ceaseless effort during the rehearsals, to direct the singers, dancers and orchestra to his satisfaction. "Very probable," as Marx remarks, "for they were obliged to do what had never been before required—deny themselves their special skill and inclination in order to lose themselves wholly and unconditionally in the rôle they had assumed. It had been the custom to adapt the rôles and the entire so-called drama to the habits and the wishes of the singers." ("Gluck und die Oper," I. 300).
Gluck's energetic determination, however, overcame these difficulties. As a director, he could rank with Handel in force, energy and insight. His contemporary, the contrabass Kämppfer, describes him as "a veritable tyrant who becomes enraged at the slightest failure and yields to vehement expressions of anger. Twenty, thirty repetitions do not suffice for the practised musicians of the chapel, among whom are certain virtuosos; they must produce the ensemble effect. He is so brusque that they often refuse to obey, and only by the persuasion of the Emperor, 'You know it is his way, he means it not unkindly,' are they induced to play under him. They always require double pay; those who have been accustomed to receive one ducat, when Gluck directs receive two. No fortissimo can be strong enough and no pianissimo weak enough for him at certain times. Yet it is quite curious how every emotion, the wild, the gentle and the sad is expressed in look and gesture." It is natural that even the most indolent was unable to resist the inspiring influence of such a leader, and even the bearer of the title-rôle, the male alto singer, Guadagni, willingly submitted to the master, and after each rehearsal was more disposed to agree with his ideas. The final success of the work was therefore established and actually after the fifth representation the last remnant of opposition disappeared and applause was unanimous. After the triumph gained by this first effort in the new direction, retraction for Gluck would naturally be supposed to be impossible. Yet he allowed five years to elapse which he filled with works of lesser worth, among others an opera by Metastasio, "Ezio," brought out in 1763, before he again appeared upon the battle-ground. This time he was armed with the opera "Alceste," given for the first time Dec. 16, 1767, in Vienna. In writing this work, after years of reserve, the master, in whose character prudence and extreme deliberation were marvellously balanced by courage and self-confidence, followed the French motto, "Reculer pour mieux sauter" ("look before you leap"); with a mighty bound he cleared the chasm between the old opera and that which agreed with his ideal, and that all doubt regarding his intention might be dispelled, his "Alceste" appeared with a preface which may be regarded as Gluck's confession of faith, and as such deserves special mention. This was addressed to the Grand Duke of Tuscany and the most important parts are as follows:—"In setting the opera of 'Alceste' to music I have resolved to avoid all those abuses which have crept into Italian opera through the mistaken vanity of singers and the unwise compliance of composers, and which have rendered it wearisome and ridiculous, instead of being, as it once was, the grandest and most imposing stage of modern times. I have endeavored to reduce music to its proper function, that of seconding poetry by enforcing the expression of sentiment and the interest of the situation, without interrupting the action or weakening it by superfluous ornament (raffreddata con degli inutili ornamenti). My idea is that the relation of music to poetry is much the same as that of harmonious coloring and well-disposed light and shade to an accurate drawing, which animate the figures without altering their outlines. I have therefore been very careful never to interrupt a singer in the heat of a dialogue in order to introduce a tedious ritornelle, nor to stop him in the middle of a piece either for the purpose of displaying the flexibility of his voice on some favorable vowel, or that the orchestra may give him time to take breath before a long-sustained note. Furthermore, I have not thought it right to hurry through the second part of a song if the words happened to be the most important of the whole, in order to repeat the first part regularly four times over; or to finish the air where the sense is complete in order to allow the singer to exhibit his power of varying the passage at pleasure. In fact, my object has been to put an end to abuses against which good taste and good sense have long protested in vain.
"My idea is that the overture should indicate the subject and prepare the spectators for the character of the piece they are about to see; that the instruments ought to be introduced in proportion to the degree of interest and passion in the words; and that it is necessary, above all, to avoid making too great a disparity between the recitative and the air of a dialogue, in order not to break the sense of a period or awkwardly interrupt the movement and animation of a scene. I have also felt that my chief endeavor should be to attain a grand simplicity (una bella simplicità), and consequently I have avoided making a parade of difficulties at the cost of clearness. I have set no value on novelty as such, unless naturally suggested by the situation and suited to the expression; in fact there is no rule which I have not felt bound to sacrifice for the sake of effect."
As may be readily imagined, the freedom of this artistic manifesto created great commotion. How could the majority of music-lovers listen with indifference to the statement that its favorite, the Italian opera, was "absurd and wearisome"? And why should not the professional musicians be horrified that one of their number set forth the "Violation of the Rules of Composition" as allowable, nay, even as desirable? As far as the effect of the opera itself was concerned, "Alceste" met with the same reception as that accorded its predecessor, "Orpheus." Though Gluck and Calzabigi had done their best, the new opera found but little favor. Well might an enthusiastic admirer of Gluck, Sonnenfels, in his "Letters on the Vienna Stage," exclaim: "I find myself in the land of wonders. A serious opera without eunuchs, music without solfeggios, or rather, throat sounds, an Italian poem without cheap wit or bluster. With this threefold wonder the theatre nearest the Hofburg is re-opened." The great majority of music-lovers remained cold, at least at the first representations of "Alceste," and scoffers remarked that "if any tears were shed they were purely from exhaustion." There is no doubt but that this reserved attitude was assumed especially toward the poetry, which suffered from a certain monotony, inasmuch as it presented but one actor, if, indeed, his decision to die may be regarded as an act! The authors of "Alceste" were not ignorant of this weakness of the libretto, and in a third work they set themselves the task of portraying the conflict of man with man. This they tried to carry out in the opera "Paride ed Helena" (Paris and Helen), which appeared the following year (1769), but this time they deceived themselves in the selection of the text; since there is no real climax—the catastrophe of the destruction of Troy, brought about by the capture of Helen, being merely suggested at the conclusion through Athena, who appears as goddess ex machina—the whole poem dwindles into a commonplace love-story. The embellishments, conflicts, a sacrificial feast, etc., could not compensate for the lack of a dramatic nucleus, and Gluck was obliged to see this work, with which he had taken infinite pains, disappear from the stage.
The dissatisfaction of the master was still further increased by the scornful attitude assumed by his critics with regard to his efforts for reform. In North Germany especially, the appearance of "Alceste" and of its defiant preface gave the signal to break the staff over the head of the audacious disturber of the peace. One of the most prominent Berlin critics, Frederick Nicolai, did not hesitate to assert that "Alceste" had no merit, though he had only heard several numbers of the opera at a rehearsal. This attitude of competent judges induced Gluck in 1770 to come before the world with a new manifesto, the dedication of "Paris and Helen," to the Duke of Braganza. This was not a whit less forcible than was his first dedication, and was chiefly directed toward his critics. It ran as follows:—
"Whereas I dedicate this work to Your Highness, I am less concerned to find a patron than a judge. Only a mind above the prejudice of custom, a sufficient knowledge of the sublime teaching of art, a taste formed by great ideals as well as by the unvarying principles of the true and beautiful, are what I seek in my Mæcenas and find united in Your Highness. Only in the hope of finding imitators did I resolve to bring out the music of 'Alceste,' and flattered myself that men would follow eagerly the path which I had opened in order to suppress the abuses which had crept into Italian opera and impaired its worth. I am convinced, however, that my hopes were vain. Smatterers, would-be judges of poetry and music, a class of people which is unfortunately very large and is always a thousand times more detrimental to the progress of art than is ignorance, threaten to be the death of their own presumption. Because of imperfectly studied, poorly conducted and still more poorly performed rehearsals it has been unjustly condemned, and the effect which the opera might produce upon the stage has been judged by its effect in a room. Is not this the sagacity of that Greek city which had miscalculated the effect of statues near at hand that were intended for tall pillars? Any one of these eccentric music-lovers whose soul is only in his ear will find many of my arias too rough, many passages too hard or imperfectly prepared, but he does not consider that in accordance with the situation, an aria or passage requires just this lofty expression and that thus the happiest contrasts are obtained. A pedant in harmony will detect carelessness and occasionally a false start, and consider himself justified in condemning both as unpardonable sins against the rules of harmony, whereupon many will agree in pronouncing this music exaggerated, barbarous and wild.