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Enrico Caruso, Geraldine Farrar and Marcel Journet
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| Paris, in the second half of the nineteenth century, basked in the high summer of its own operatic culture - an extravagant blend of German and Italian derivatives.
French 'grand opera', with its spectacular use of dazzling stage-effects, metaphysical and exotic themes, sophisticated scenery, legions of dancers, gold encrusted costumes and monumental historical plots, had native roots in the seventeenth century stage-works of Rameau, but had been spurred to new heights by the more recent achievements of two Italian composers, Cherubini and Spontini, whose major works were crafted especially for Parisian society.
The crowning seal which established once and for all the genre of French grand opera came in 1831 with the appearance of Robert le Diable, the work of a German composer whom Paris took to its heart, Giacomo Meyerbeer.
The influence of Meyerbeer on late nineteenth century French opera cannot be over-estimated.
His employment of an enlarged orchestra, a wide palette of diverse vocal styles and opulent stage extravaganzas were to set an ambitious precedent for the next generation of grand opera composers.
Gounod, Bizet, Thomas and Massenet inherited the seeds laid by Meyerbeer and the French tradition. The curious amalgam of style which developed in Paris, under the tripartite pressure of Verdi, Wagner and Meyerbeer (with additional sprinklings of vanishing bel canto and forebodings of imminent verismo) resulted in an idiosyncratic musical language that is not entirely suited to today's taste, nor, perhaps, today's singers. Although Faust, Carmen and In 1840, having won the much coveted Prix de Rome, Gounod began a two year period of study at the French Academy in Rome. It was at this time he began to take an interest in Goethe's Faust, one of the greatest masterpieces of German literature. 'The work did not leave me,' he wrote, 'I carried it everywhere'. He, along with many of his generation had discovered the work through the first French translations, published in 1823 and 1827. The influence of it on Parisian literature, theatre and opera was stupendous. At the time of his marriage, in 1852, Gounod was reported to have been contemplating an opera based on Goethe's original, but it is clear that composition did not begin until the final libretto was submitted to him, in 1856. By this time numerous spoken theatre versions of the Faust story had become popular on the stages of Paris; musical adaptations (including Berlioz's 1846 La Damnation de Faust), ventured into the same territory. Gounod's principal source for the opera was a play by Michel Carré, entitled Faust et Marguerite, written for the popular, or boulevard theatre. Carré himself was offered the chance to collaborate on the opera, but, preferring to work with Meyerbeer on a new project, released his partner Jules Barbier to Gounod, allowing him to draw whatever he wanted from his play. Barbier adapted the play, adhering to its plot, but only lifting two complete passages direct. Whatever the dramatic strengths and weaknesses of the opera, they can therefore be said to have derived from Carré's original. The play (and thence the opera) does not attempt to recreate the full length, profundity and complexity of Goethe's text. Philosophical abstractions did not make for good drama at boulevard theatres. Carré therefore concentrated his energies on Part 1 of Goethe's original, the section dealing with the love between Faust and Marguerite, and the corruption of innocence through diabolic intrusion. He further developed the characters of Valentin and Siebel (minor players in the Goethe) so as to spice the drama with an effective sub-plot. Gounod has frequently been accused of trivialising Goethe, of artistic blasphemy, of insulting a literary colossus; and the resulting vilification of his work because of this has been considerable. Despite the opera's popularity in Germany, it had to be renamed Margarete at the Dresden premiere (1861) so as to dispel too close an association with the great native master. The alternative title has survived in Germany to this day. Such furious criticism of Gounod is not entirely judicious and is not representative of French or English opinion at the time of the work's first staging. At that time it was clearly understood that the drama had been specifically designed to cater for a particular form of theatre - which demanded a formula of certain ingredients to be integrated into the plot, no matter what the original source material contained. It was not Gounod's intention to set Goethe to music with any degree of fidelity; he was not undertaking the type of treatment that Verdi would apply to Shakespeare's Othello. He and Carré, together with Barbier, simply adapted a hugely popular story for French grand opera, a tradition with its own stipulations. And in the fulfilment of this aim they succeeded. A whole series of complications and delays threatened to foil all attempts to stage Faust, but the premiere was eventually given on 19th March 1859 at the Théâtre-Lyrique. Contrary to expectation (a new work by Meyerbeer was opening elsewhere on the same night), Gounod's opera was well received, but promptly disappeared from the theatre's repertory because of a change of management. It was later revived, and scored notable successes at La Scala (1862), Her Majesty's Theatre, Covent Garden and New York (1863), and the Paris Opéra, in 1869. It would be fair to conjecture that Faust became the most regularly performed opera in Europe during the final three decades of the century. Although Enrico Caruso, Geraldine Farrar, Marcel Journet and Antonio Scotti never appeared together in the same cast, they were all four experienced interpreters of their respective roles in the work. Caruso's first encounter with the tenor role, with its high tessitura and famous top C at the end of 'Salut demeure', was at Caserta in 1895. He first sang the role at the Met in 1906, alongside Scotti, and gave 23 performances up until 1910. The honeyed quality of his younger voice can be heard in the role's lyrical legato passages, and he rises to a magnificent top note in full voice, at the end of the aria, instead of resorting to falsetto, or escaping the issue by transposition. After 1910, his vocal development and the darker baritonal quality that entered his tone perhaps prevented him from tackling the role at America's principal theatre. The ravishing soprano Geraldine Farrar made her operatic debut in the role of Gounod's Marguerite in Berlin, on October 15th 1901. Taught by Lilli Lehmann, a pre-eminent stylist, Farrar's technical mastery is unblemished: she sings the role with precision, firmness of line and liquid vitality. Yet it was as a singer-actress that she preferred to be judged - 'I sacrifice tonal beauty to dramatic fitness every time I think it is necessary for an effect... I leave mere singing to warblers'. The glamour of her stage personality, the good looks, her flirtation with Hollywood, and the home-grown extravagance of her demeanour made her a great favourite at the Met; and the hordes of fans who followed her (known as Gerryflappers) would truly believe, as Frida Leider recalled, that when she sang Marguerite, 'she wore really and truly genuine jewelled buckles on her shoes'. Her blend of exquisite vocalisation and committed characterisation combine to make her a formidable recorded artist. She grafts personality onto her Marguerite, most apparent in the transformation of mood between the ponderous folk-song, 'Le roi de Thulé', and its ensuing cabaletta, the Jewel Song. Not only is every note in place (with none of the throw-away hiccups one hears in Melba's rendition), but the mood of a dazzled young girl is effectively communicated. Journet approaches the role of Mephistopheles with less of the arch wickedness and cynicism of timbre than has become associated with the role. He actually sings 'Le veau d'or', rather than barking his way through in traditional buffo manner; though elsewhere he allows the tone to slip into pure caricature, such as in the magnificent laugh at the close of the serenade. Journet first appeared at the Met in this role in 1900, and he continued to perform it elsewhere in Europe, eventually making an electric recording of the opera, in 1927. For what he lacks of the diabolical in his tone, he amply compensates with haunting plaintiveness providing a refreshingly lyrical interpretation of music that is all too often neglected in favour of cheap characterisation. |
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