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Program Notes by Klay and Karen Woodworth Charles Gounod Faust Alchemy was a subtle art. The medieval practice had three main goals: the transmutation of less valuable metals into gold, the discovery of a universal cure for disease, and the discovery of a means to prolong life indefinitely. Alchemists ran the gamut from showmen to scientists and from healers to assassins. All were viewed with suspicion. The fact that alchemists spent a great deal of time and effort trying to change natural occurrences made many in that superstitious age see a link between alchemy and evil. The early sixteenth century had an actual Faust, or possibly more than one (many German cities claim to be Faust’s home) but, like his contemporary Till Eulenspiegel, Johann Faust is mostly a legendary figure who held a featured place in books of folk tales and puppet plays for three hundred years. The great German writer, Johann von Goethe, had grown up hearing stories about the character of Faust. In 1808, he wrote his famous play Faust, Der Tragödie erster Teil. This first part of Faust’s story is the drama that launched many a Romantic into the throes of creativity. The second part of Goethe’s work uses the Faust character as a springboard for philosophical discussion and was much less popular. Charles Gounod started his professional studies at the Paris Conservatoire with Antonín Reicha, a Viennese associate of Beethoven and Salieri. When he was nineteen he won his first Prix de Rome; he was awarded another two years later. He wrote a number of large sacred pieces, worked as a church organist, and even considered the priesthood. A secular career won out, however, and he turned to writing grand opera. Gounod had read Goethe’s Faust in translation when he was twenty and considered the idea of setting the story to music for some time. This idea became reality only through a chance introduction to the librettist Jules Barbier in 1856. Also influential in the beginnings of Faust was the impresario, Léon Carvalho, the director of the Théatre-Lyrique in Paris. Carvalho agreed to mount a production of the Barbier-Gounod Faust, only to postpone it because another theater was presenting a rival version. Faust finally reached the stage of the Théatre-Lyrique in March of 1859 with spoken dialogue. Ten years later, with recitative and a ballet section added, it was performed at the Grand Opéra in Paris. It rose quickly in popularity and has been in the repertoire ever since. Interestingly, Gounod’s Faust was the opera chosen to open New York City’s Metropolitan Opera House on October 22, 1883. Faust has only seven characters, but three leads: Faust (a tenor), the ancient scholar transformed into a young man; Marguerite (a soprano), a young maiden swept up in Faust’s fate; and Méphistophélès (a bass), the evil agent of Satan. The opera opens in Faust’s study. He is depressed because he has grown old and lonely without finding the answers his science promised. He has also made himself a draught of poison which sits on the table. As he curses his fate and moves to end it all, he is repeatedly interrupted by sounds from the street. Finally, in total frustration, he curses mortal life with its visions of love, glory, and fame and summons Satan. Méphistophélès appears! Resplendent with a plume in his cap and a gentleman’s cloak, this incarnation of the Evil One is quite charming. He asks Faust to tell him exactly what he wants — wealth? power? No, Faust is looking for something more; he wants to recapture his youth. Méphistophélès strikes his bargain: “On earth I’ll be your humble servant, but in hell, you shall be mine.” The old man hesitates, so the demon conjures up a vision of the beautiful Marguerite at her spinning wheel as enticement. Faust quickly signs Méphistophélès’s contract and gets a different potion — one that transform him into a young man. The curtain rises on the second scene and a town fair or kermesse. Amid the merrymakers we are introduced to the soldier Valentin. He is off to war and sings a farewell to his sister, Marguerite, who has given him a sacred medal for his protection. Now loose in the world, Méphistophélès insinuates himself into the celebrations. He is rude and joking with the soldiers and students, but eventually crosses the line and provokes Valentin. Valentin draws his sword and sees it magically break in two. Stunned, the rest of his company reverse their sword hilts to form the sign of the cross and back away from this obvious witchcraft. Things quickly return to normal and as the band strikes up a waltz, Faust appears in the crowd and offers to escort Marguerite on her way to church. She refuses his offer, saying she is not the fragile flower Faust takes her for. The second act takes place in the garden of Marguerite’s house. Siebel, a young friend of Valentin, is seen with a small bouquet of flowers for Marguerite. He leaves them for her just before Faust and Méphistophélès wander into the garden. Méphistophélès suggests a more fitting present for the young woman might be a casket of jewels, which he produces, and Faust sets them down for her to find. The man and his evil companion hide while Marguerite begins to work at her spinning wheel. She sings a little folksong but interrupts herself with thoughts of the handsome young man from the town square. She discovers the jewels and becomes quite caught up in trying them on. Méphistophélès enters again, but this time he is escorting Marthe, an older neighbor. The Devil woos Marthe while Faust sidles up to Marguerite. Marguerite confesses that she is smitten by Faust but asks him to leave. Acting the gentleman, Faust starts out of the garden but Méphistophélès turns him around. The scene closes to demonic laughter as Marguerite gives herself to Faust. The third act opens with Marguerite seeking forgiveness for her sin in the church. She is mocked mercilessly by Méphistophélès as she prays. The next scene is again out in the town square as the soldiers, led by Valentin, return triumphantly from their battle. Valentin asks Siebel about Marguerite but Siebel will not give him a straight answer. Valentin realizes that his sister’s honor has been compromised when Méphistophélès arrives to serenade her with a ribald verse. Valentin, recognizing his sister’s lover, challenges Faust to a duel. Faust is protected with immunity from harm and he cuts Valentin down. As he bleeds in the square, Valentin curses his sister with his dying breath. A matter of months pass before the action of the final scenes. Faust and Marguerite have never actually become a couple and Faust is despondent. To help him out, Méphistophélès takes him to the witches’ Walpurgis Night celebration and shows him beautiful women from history that could be his for the asking. Faust, however, is in love with Marguerite and can’t let go of her memory. Conversely, all that has occurred has completely unhinged Marguerite. She is sentenced to death for killing the child conceived in her one meeting with Faust, and awaits the gallows in prison. Faust brings Méphistophélès to the prison in the hope of helping Marguerite escape. She has no tether to reality anymore and holds onto Faust recalling their happier times, brief though they were. Recognizing Méphistophélès in the shadows she cries out for deliverance. Méphistophélès mocks her and condemns her to hell. As Marguerite dies, a radiance illuminates the prison cell and angels claim her soul. Faust is left in stunned silence with Méphistophélès and his own eternal fate. Gounod’s Faust became extremely popular very quickly because it offers everything the Romantic opera lover could want — the pageantry of soldiers’ choruses and townsfolk at a fair, plenty of drawn swords, an antagonist who is literally as evil as they come, and a completely dysfunctional leading couple. But Gounod goes even further, throwing in the special effects bonanza of a witches’ sabbath and a surprise ending featuring divine retribution. Throughout the opera the music, of course, also shines consistently. Whether we are most taken by the soprano’s exhilarating “Jewel Song,” the character pieces for the bass, the tenor’s heartfelt yearnings to be loved, or those fabulous French choruses, we get to enjoy the transmutation of this very old folk tale into a wonderful night at the theater. © 2007 Klayton Woodworth and Karen M. Woodworth |