Faust’s Youth Restored

Gounod’s Faust, as it has come down to us over the last century-and-a-half, is one of the most assuredly well-known works in the operatic canon. It is, furthermore, the most prominent musical adaptation of what was, by far, the most significant and influential dramatic literary work of the 19th century. For the first hundred years after its premiere in 1859, Faust was the most widely performed opera in the world. And yet, despite the familiarity that surrounds this treasured masterpiece, Opera Omaha finds itself in 2019 with something profoundly original to say about it.

The Faust with which most of us are familiar is significantly different than the opera Gounod and his librettists designed and intended.  It was originally created in a form and style that accorded with the prevailing norms of the Théâtre Lyrique where, on March 19, 1859, it received its first performance. Balancing the gravitas of the fully orchestrated and sung material was an organically integrated mélange of spoken dialogue, melodrama and accompanied recitative. Yet even before that first performance, the theater’s strong-willed director, Léon Carvalho, forced Gounod into making numerous modifications, including the excision of several musical numbers as well as a reduction in the number of melodrama passages.

By the time Faust made its way up the ladder to the Opéra de Paris in 1869, all the dialogue had been replaced by sung recitative and the melodramas were completely gone. There were changes in the structure of scenes, and ballet music was incorporated. (Valentin’s familiar aria, “Avant de quitter ces lieux,” had already been added in 1862 for the first performances in England by the celebrated baritone Charles Santley.) The metamorphosis from Gounod’s original intentions was profound.

Thus Faust has blithely sojourned in the collective consciousness of the opera-loving world—until now. The eminent French musicologist Paul Prévost has collaborated with Bärenreiter-Verlag to produce a performing edition that, as nearly as possible, realizes the composer’s original intent. It restores the spoken dialogue as well as all the extant melodramas and fully orchestrated numbers. It absconds with the musical additions that were not part of the original.  While some of this material has not been heard in a fully staged production since the 1859 premiere, there are several numbers that have never been performed in a staged production of any kind, since they were cut even before the first performance.  The most prominent of these restorations include a trio for Faust, Siebel and Wagner in the opening scene; a farewell duet for Marguerite and Valentin; the original first aria for Méphistophélès, and an extended set of couplets for Valentin and chorus.

Absent from this version are the many additions that have accrued through the years, such as the previously mentioned Valentin aria, the “Golden Calf” aria of Méphistophélès, and the somewhat hackneyed “Soldier’s Chorus.” Absent, too, are a number of sung recitatives that are rendered unnecessary by the restored dialogue.

This new edition presents a number of subtle differences in orchestration, most of which would likely go unnoticed by all but the most familiar with the score. But the sound of chimes in the original music of the final Apotheosis is immediately arresting and joyously colors the religious tint of this thrilling moment. It should also be noted that some few of the restored melodramas have required new construction to compensate for missing orchestration.

What then, is the upshot of all this research and scholarship—and how does it affect our view of the piece? The dialogue certainly has the salutary effect of fleshing out in much greater detail the characters of Wagner, Siebel and Marthe. The principals, too, are given much more latitude and opportunity for natural characterization, since much of their text is ungoverned by pitch or meter. The already urbane wit and demeanor of Méphistophélès achieves, by virtue of the human-ness of his speech, a heightened sardonic thrust.

The restored music brings with it much more than mere curiosity. In the case of the very attractive trio in the first scene, the added presence of Siebel and Wagner throws just enough light into the darkness to achieve a welcome chiaroscuro. The duet between Marguerite and Valentin establishes an actual relationship between these two siblings. An added aria gives greater definition and intention to Siebel’s youthful goodwill. If the restored first-act aria of Méphistophélès is not nearly the diabolic free-for-all that we are accustomed to experiencing in the “Song of the Golden Calf,” its comparative restraint facilitates a more gradual divulgence of his satanic flamboyance over the course of the drama.

There are too many additions, changes and deletions to comment on all of them in this brief article. Gounod maintains his priorities throughout. The loving portrayal of love itself is the sine qua non of the composer’s various objectives. Indeed, after the initial success of Faust, he became known as “the composer of love.”  The moments of daemonic fantasy always carry dramatic impact. The overtly religious music is idiomatically spiritual, reflecting the composer’s deep personal devotion to God. The overwhelming good news is that Gounod succeeds, as he always has, in bringing this cosmic drama down to our human plain where both profundity and sentimentality speak their own truths and need not vie for supremacy. 

-Steven White