This is the dissertation I wrote for my Masters in Music at Kings College London. This involved doing interesting research at the British Library in Colindale, north London, digging up 200-year old articles from the French newspaper to support that idea that Mozart's music had a strong influence in setting up a French school and style of music.

1. FIGARO’S MOZART
Le Figaro newspaper’s strange love affair with Mozart’s operas, 1826-1834
JULY 1, 2008
JEAN-LOUIS GOSSELIN, MASTERS DISSERTATION, KINGS COLLEGE LONDON

2. Contents
Sinfonia ...................................................................................................................................................2
Act 1 - A little bit of history.....................................................................................................................2
Act 2 - Mozart, a genius at last ...............................................................................................................5
Act 3 - “Vive la musique! Vive la France!” ............................................................................................19
Act 4 - A bitter love affair......................................................................................................................25
BIBLIOGRAPHY ......................................................................................................................................28

3. Sinfonia
To claim that post-Napoleonic France showed a growing interest in Mozart’s operas would
be unusual. To claim that his music influenced that country's search for its long-lost musical identity
woud be impertinent.
Yet, at the risk of digging up the hatchet of Franco-German enmity, the truth of the matter is: both
claims are true. Thanks to a colourful series of 200-year old articles taken from a newspaper called
Le Figaro (first published in 1826) which I uncovered at the British Library in Colindale, North
London, and which I painstakingly translated into English to the best of my ability, this essay will
shed light on two seemingly unrelated observations made by French critics at the time: on the one
hand, Mozart's operas were being more and more performed in their original, ‘un-arranged’ form;
on the other hand, France was slowly realising how it had been lacking its own roster of innovative
composers for far too long.
Yet, with virtually no personal input on my part, these articles from Le Figaro gently and effortlessly
weave a narrative both on the rise (and subsequent fall) in popularity of Mozart's operas and,
interestingly, the role these exquisite works of art was increasingly expected to play in shaping and
inspiring the minds of young, promising French composers of the time. This narrative, like a long
uninterrupted thread, conveniently fulfils the purpose of this essay.
If ultimately we have come to understand France's military defeat to Prussia in 1870 as the definitive
wake-up call for all French artists (and composers in particular) to break free from their German
neighbours’ stifling artistic dominance, it is my belief that it took the helping hand from that most
celebrated of all German(ic) composers to set France on a singular journey towards artistic self-
discovery and emancipation a century earlier.
Act 1 - A little bit of history
The first two-and-a-half decades following the 1789 French Revolution were certainly one of the
most turbulent periods in French history: from Roberspierre’s Terreur in 1793 to the march on
France by the Austrian, Prussian and Russian troops in the first months of 1814, and from the
endless Napoleonic campaigns to the former Emperor’s final downfall in April 1814, France and the

4. rest of Europe were deadlocked in tremendous political and social upheavals, with periods of
unpromising peace and violent conflicts constantly clashing.
Apart from Napoleon’s brief return from Elba in 1815 (Les Cent Jours) and the massacres
perpetrated under the Terreur Blanche, Louis XVIII’ s Restoration to the throne in 1814 marked a
temporary respite. Although reluctant to do so, the King had granted a written constitution, the
Charter of 1814, which in turn guaranteed a bicameral legislature, with a hereditary/appointive
Chamber of Peers and an elected Chamber of Deputies, and by 1819 three laws were passed
abolishing censorship. Newspapers flourished, especially left-wing publications. Financial stability
seemed, for the time being, restored and, along with England, France shared the privilege of a
budgetary balance not seen in the rest of Europe.
Soon however, in March 1820, censorship would again be imposed and, by 1824, Charles X came to
the throne, lifting the spirits of the Ultra-monarchists who since 1789 had sought to suppress all
social and political benefits brought upon by the Revolution.
However, unable by law to overstep his constitutional bounds and at the same time unable to
preserve his policies with a liberal majority within the Chamber of Deputies, Charles X decided to
take extreme action: to alter the Charter of 1814 by decree. These decrees, known as the Four
Ordinances, which included the dissolution of Chamber of Deputies and restriction of Press Laws,
precipitated his downfall and on July 30th
1830 Charles X abdicated, thus spelling the end of the
Restoration and at the same time the beginning of the ‘July Monarchy’, with Louis-Philippe of the
House of Orleans immediately ascending the throne, -this time: as ‘King of the French’ (Roi des
Français).
During the brief idyllic period of the Restoration in 1814, the French only had, according to Jacques
de Lacretelle1
, a choice of 4 daily papers: Le Moniteur, which was for a long time the official journal
of the French government and at times a propaganda publication; Le Journal de L’Empire, of which
the original, subversive title Débats had been changed and which was published under the iron rule
of censorship; La Gazette de France, which published official information, and La Quotidienne. By
1824, these newspapers had more than 50 000 subscribers.
In addition to these publications there was also the ‘small’ press, disposing of fewer financial means,
often consisting of one page, living off precarious and at times doubtful resources. This ‘small’ press
had the advantage of escaping, for a time, the severity of censorship, as long as it hid behind the
1 Jacques de Lacretelle: Face à l’évènement: Le Figaro 1826-1966, Libraririe Hachette, 1966

5. headings of literature, the arts or theatre found in publications such as Le Corsaire, Le Pirate, and La
Pandore.
It was precisely through this smallest of pathways that Le Figaro first made its appearance on
January 15th
1826. It consisted of 4 pages, but in small format. It was a sort of pocket newspaper,
yet it boldly claimed, in the subtitles, that its articles covered ‘the theatre, critics, science, the arts,
morals, scandals, the national economy, biographies, books, fashion, etc.’ Despite its rocky financial
start, this newcomer rapidly gained its place in the small press not only thanks to its large number of
advertisements but also because it dealt most importantly with politics while rallying the left-wing
opposition, the major issue being, under Charles X, the constant threat hanging over the freedom of
the press.
According to H.A.C. Collingham, this threat was assuredly one of the deciding factors that led to the
July Monarchy uprising. Indeed, ‘July 1830 was in many ways a revolution by the printing press, its
earliest protagonists being journalists, and its victors men who knew well its powers’2
. From 1830
onwards, ‘there was a hunger for information, a mass of incompatible nuances demanding to be
satisfied, a plethora of ambitions, each desiring a mouthpiece’3
. Moreover, with publications such as
Le Figaro, ‘the barriers between owning and directing, editing and reporting, were blurred’4
.
Because it covered such a wide array of topics in such limited reading space, it was inevitable that
many articles in Le Figaro overlapped each other, with state affairs intermingling with operatic
premieres and chauvinistic poetry spicing up cookery articles. Of course such examples are quick to
show that journalism at the time was far from being accurate, and it wasn’t until La Presse and Le
Siècle were simultaneously published for the first time on June 23rd
1836 that a new era of
journalism was officially inaugurated, so innovative were they in matter and investigative
technique.5
However, behind each issue, each article of Le Figaro written between 1826 and 1834 (date at which
it stopped printing for, yet again, censorship reasons), behind each of these completely anonymous
and surprisingly vivid impressions, lie several, greater and more serious streams of political thought
and commentary.
A closer inspection of these issues reveals an intriguing number of articles, comments and
advertisements relating to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. How could this be? Why would an Austrian
2 H.A.C. Collingham: The July Monarchy: a political history of France 1830-1848, Longman 1988, p2
3 Collingham, p169
4 Collingham, p173
5 Collingham, p175

6. composer from the siècle passé occupy the minds of so many littérateurs in the years leading to the
July Monarchy?
As mentioned previously, the purpose of this essay is to show the welcome which the critics of Le
Figaro (and the French public alike) reserved for Mozart’s works (in particular his operas) between
1826 and 1834. But to provide an appropriate answer to the questions above, it is imperative in the
present essay to address several subjects all at once.
As shown by the sheer quantity of rarely consulted material (the translation of which I hope will stay
faithful to the original articles), I will at first put in the forefront several important aspects of the
history of music in France. This will lead us to examine how Mozart, in the background this time, and
throughout the various musical periods, played an essential role in the birth of a French musical
school; to see how his work, like a rejuvenating source, moulded the minds of the most enlightened
as well as the least cultivated people on the French music scene; last but not least, to observe how
the younger generation of French composers came to accept, if not the composer himself as one of
their own, then at least his art as a truly inspiring symbol of unequalled beauty and perfection.
Act 2 - Mozart, a genius at last
According to Dr Belinda Cannone6
, French critics’ perception of the composer’s music dates back to
1793, when one of Mozart’s works, The Marriage of Figaro, was first presented to the Parisians as a
parody (by ‘parody’ we mean a French version of the libretto, on a score reviewed and corrected by
a Parisian musician, a process which contemporaries called arranging).
The choice of the piece, at the time, was hardly surprising: the original play by Beaumarchais, Le
Marriage de Figaro, had known a rising success since it was first staged in 1784; and although Louis
XVI had opposed the play at first, with its depiction of a pleasure-seeking, incompetent nobleman
upstaged by his crafty, witty servant in their quest for the same woman, and its overall questioning
of France's longstanding social class system, it was –funnily enough- an immediate, resounding
success, even among its aristocratic audience! But France in 1793 was certainly not the same as it
had been 9 years before the premiere of Mozart’s ‘arranged’ opera: considering the chaotic state of
French political affairs and social turmoil in the early 1790s, it seems miraculous that any form of
6 Belinda Cannone: La réception des opéras de Mozart dans la presse parisienne 1789-1829, Paris-Klincksieck, 1991

7. artistic life in the capital remained active! Yet, theatres and opera houses never closed down and
continued to serve the various regimes between 1789 and 1830.
It was eight years later, however, in 1801, that the official ‘re-discovery’ of Mozart injected new
musical life into the Parisian scene, when Les Mystères d’Isis (another parody, this time of Die
Zauberflöte) was shown at the Théâtre des Arts (in fact, that first year of the 19th
century later
proved to be a veritable year of Mozart, with the coincidental publication of the first two French
biographies of the composer). It was not until 1807 that Italian performers, who had returned to
Paris 6 years earlier, allowed the French public to finally discover a ‘non-arranged’ opera by Mozart
with a performance of The Marriage of Figaro (Cosi fan tutte followed in March 1809, and Don
Giovanni two-and-a-half years later). It was only 22 years later, in 1829, that opera-goers could at
last attend a performance of Die Zauberflöte presented for the first time in its original language by a
German company.
During this period critics responded rather negatively to these parodies of Mozart’s operas, but
these negative responses were not based on the perceived lack of authenticity (as would be the case
today, where the search for authenticity is a major preoccupation). Indeed, as Cannone explains,
journalists, for example in the Courrier des Spectacles of November 10th
1805, complained of these
parodies not because they were unfaithful to the original, -but because they put the music in the
forefront!
‘Conceived as true musical works, of which the poem is only one of the components but of
which the music is the centre and the end result, Mozart’s operas were the product of the
composer’s absolute belief in the dramatic power of music. Not music or poetry, but music
and poetry…’7
Does this mean that the public, in fact, ‘did not yet possess the intellectual and musical means to
fully appreciate Mozart’?8
According to Cannone, ‘the public advanced towards Mozart very slowly,
held back by issues dating back to the previous century (the opera as in “music versus poetry”,
“harmony versus melody”…); the public was a poor musician, lazy as are all audiences when
confronted with something new. Mozart represented the harmful Germanic influence, ie: in opera,
the overpowering instrumental music and the “suffocation” of the melody and voices under the
fracas of the orchestra… Moreover the technical difficulties found in Mozart’s symphonies [a
7 Cannone, p26
8 Cannone, p43

8. problem which we shall discuss further down this essay] were even frightening for the musicians, so
much so that arrangements (yet again!) were proposed’9
.
On the other hand, Gluck’s five French operas and those of Salieri, Piccini and Sacchini constituted,
in the last years of the 18th
century, the essential part of the operatic repertoire. Even the following
generation of opera composers such as Méhul, Cherubini and Le Sueur, pursued the objective
initiated by Gluck, i.e. to express a psychological truth, an endeavour which resulted, for the time
being, in pushing melody lovers to the Théâtre Italien to listen to Mozart and Cimarosa. But little did
the public and critics know that the discovery of Mozart corresponded to the beginning of the
triumph of instrumental music! Had this widespread curiosity for Les Mystères d’Isis finally set off an
increasing public demand for a greater musical change (or at least: a greater musical variety)? Could
it be that a hidden desire for home-grown opera talent actually went hand-in-hand with the
increasing fascination for Mozart’s work?
Generally speaking, from 1801 to the late 1820s, both admirers and detractors of Mozart’s operas
alike experienced a feeling of artistic and nationalistic malaise. However impressive the number of
performances, reruns or creations in all three permanent opera houses in Paris between 1789 and
1839, not one single exceptional French work emerged from all these presentations, nor did a
musical National School clearly emerge. French composers worked rather independently and did not
really break noticeably from the tradition. Interestingly, contrary to the political scene which had
seldom been so agitated, musical creation seemed to follow a very discreet path, advancing calmly
and serenely towards Romanticism.
As we shall see, the ‘revolution in the musical empire’ caused by Mozart, who, for many critics (even
‘Mozartophobes’ such as Geoffroy) represented purity, naturalness and the return of good taste
compared to the decadence caused by the over-refinement of Italian music, sounded the union of
the dilattenti (long before Rossini) and was already the promise that the old French opera tradition
would soon be over.
Interestingly, by already showing signs of discontent with what they believed to be a lack of
authenticity in the performances of Mozart’s work, some journalists (as shown in the following two
articles) had thought to have identified (or at least: to have a clearer understanding of) the roots to
their musical ‘inferiority’:
‘Il Flauto incantanto (“The Magic Flute”) is one of Mozart’s brilliant works. Thirty odd years
ago it was ‘castil-blased’ [sic] by a genius of the day and adapted to our theatre on the
9 Cannone, p44

9. stupid lyrics of a certain Morel. We took care to chop off the most beautiful passages of this
masterpiece alleging that they were unperformable in Paris; we removed the choruses,
transformed arias into duets and duets into arias; we accelerated or slowed down the bars.
Poor Mozart, laid down on the bed of Procuste, unknowingly found himself the author of
The Mysteries of Isis in which two or three passages of Don Juan and The Marriage of Figaro
were tacked on at random… Naturally, this ridiculous dissection resulted in confusion, lack of
proportion in the contents, a total absence of ensemble and colour... Indeed, to write an
opera it is not enough to stitch pieces of music together; all of the parts must be
coordinated, we must be able to recognize the unity which forms the essential base of
beauty in all the arts… If you want to attract Parisian high society to this performance of The
Mysteries of Isis, start by giving us a different, less absurd and less boring poem; The Magic
Flute must be re-established in its entirety, as it was written by the composer… Now that we
have an orchestra and singers it would be desirable if all of Mozart’s works were re-
established in their entirety [sic], and performed in our great opera houses with
magnificence worthy both of the author’s name and of one of Europe’s major theatres.
When, for the first time, in 1794, the Académie de Musique performed The Marriage of
Figaro and Don Juan the public’s ear was not attuned, or rather it was over-attuned; these
two masterpieces were misunderstood. They are still unknown to a host of music lovers
who, because of their national views, have never set foot inside the Théâtre Italien, and who
applaud wildly at Lepelletier, the French [sic] music of Salieri, Sacchini and Spontini. I believe
that, more than any other, Mozart can withstand trends and changes that time necessarily
brings to bear to the style of music. The rerun of his immortal operas would be a kind of
correction in the Rossini manner. Placed between these two great masters our young
composers could forge a new path. From the one they would learn how to modulate the
brilliant and graceful airs, while the severity of the other would keep them within the
boundaries of drama and truth.’10
And:
‘It is true that here in France the love of music is less widespread, less popular than in Italy;
but it is making progress every day; and when the managers of our theatres finally
understand the needs of the public we shall see the beginning of a new musical era which
will bring us to the level of Germany and Italy… Music in France will always be an art,
whatever the level of perfection attained: in Italy it is a natural language common to all…
10 Le Figaro, 4th May 1827, “Académie Royale de Musique – The rerun of The Mysteries of Isis”

10. These memories of glory and magnificence which enrich the expression of Italians, without
deepening their reflection, because they only feel but do not reflect: all of this gives an air of
poetry and harmony which is scarcely to be found in France, except in provinces such as the
South or Languedoc and Provence. But in Italy “high” music suffers at times from the
composer’s facility to produce music as well as the public’s propensity to feel emotions. In
France, on the other hand, the need to reflect is felt even more strongly by the musician
given that the emotions of those who listen to music are affected by analysis and critical
judgement; in order to arouse enthusiasm music in France must be profound and new; and
that is why our music is closer to German music. But the lightness and grace of French ideas
temper Germanic severity and I do not despair of seeing our neighbours overtaken, thanks
to a happy and wise combination of both traditions… It is true that the public of Feydeau and
of the Opera listen with pleasure to works, whose music is totally insignificant, and actors
who are still inferior to their roles; but it is not the music that is applauded. The praise is for
the pomp of the performance, for the literary merit of the poem, for the performance of the
actor, for the beauty of his costume. This is what is holding back the progress of music in
France’.11
Of course, despite these judgemental opinions, articles from Le Figaro, from 1826 to 1834, never
quite stopped praising the great composer’s work, and was indeed (as we shall see) one of Figaro’s
recurring themes:
‘Everything has already been said about Don Giovanni, the masterpiece of masterpieces, and
one will always find new treasures to point out; we know it by heart, and it always inspires
new emotions. The introduction, so lively, so dramatic; the sublime finale, so often imitated
and never equalled; the melodious arias, filled with grace, the infernal harmonic effects
which the genius of the musician seems to have taken from another world; the host of
contrasts which are so cleverly arranged, which retain one’s unfailing and untiring attention,
all of this is admirable: it is entirely Mozart… The most tragic operas of the Italian school
have nothing approaching this simple and strict character: dramatic expression can go no
further; but the Germans are perhaps the only people capable of appreciating all of its
beauties…’12
11 Le Figaro, 1st June 1826, “First Letter to an Italian on French Music”
12 Le Figaro, 29th June 1826, “Théâtre Italien – Don Giovanni _ Mlle Sontag”

11. ‘Mozart has not aged: His music is still as exquisite, because it is absolutely full of song motifs’ 13
,
wrote one journalist, the emphatic style of which can be found in another article written a year later:
‘So much has been said about Don Giovanni, Mozart’s great creation has often been a
subject of conversation, that trying yet again to prove or discuss its merit would be the best
way of bringing out the same old platitudes or absurdities. Opinions are set on a work in
which art and genius are so present, and this composition, which has never failed to delight
audiences and despair singers, inspires no other emotion than deep and unanimous
admiration.’ 14
Even at the height of the Rossini craze in Paris, the ‘superb Don Giovanni had not been surpassed,
even by [the Italian composer] himself.’ 15
Such articles might lead us to consider this ‘deep and unanimous admiration’ of the French for
German music to be an ever-lasting one. But such was not the case. Since the late 18th
century,
clichés on German music were very common in the French capital. As Jean Mongrédien observes,
‘because of the widespread popularity of Haydn’s work -[Haydn who, in fact, had been the most
typical German composer, in spirit as well as style, for the French in the early part of the nineteenth
century]-, the French hastily concluded that the German spirit excelled in harmony rather than
melody…’ 16
This cliché, he adds, was broadly circulated toward the end of the eighteenth century,
and in a leaflet published on 26th
December 1800 (the day after the premiere of The Creation in
Paris), the anti-Mozart critic Geoffroy naively oversimplified the issue: ‘The Italians and the Germans
have each taken over one aspect of music, the two of which should never have been separated:
harmony and melody… On one side stands opera, on the other, symphonies.’ 17
Many of these clichés undoubtedly led to an anti-Germanic sentiment, which Le Figaro expressed in
an unusual and particularly witty article printed a year after the July Monarchy:
‘Throughout his lifetime Voltaire had one sole and unique preoccupation: the Chinese; he
was so obsessed by them that they figured in his tales, novels, plays and stories. Annoyed
that science only went as far back as biblical times, he pushed the boundaries back, quite by
chance, to beyond the Ganges, placing its origins on the banks of the Yellow Sea, and that
was that. From that moment on, it was proclaimed that the Chinese had invented
13 Le Figaro, 28th April 1828, “Société des Concerts – Quatrième Concert – Mr Guillou”
14 Le Figaro, 19th March 1829, “Théâtre Italien – Rerun of D. Giovanni”
15 Le Figaro, 4th May 1831, “Opéra-Comique”
16 Jean Mongrédien: French Music from the Enlightenment to Romanticism, 1789-1830, Amadeus Press, 1996, p317
17 Mongrédien: idem

12. everything: morals, physics, theology and canon powder. It was a vulgar lie. Voltaire had
mistaken China for India, and he drank tea… We were delivered from the Chinese, and now
come the Germans. Our studies, traditions, tastes will date from Berlin and Koenigsberg. All
things considered, the mistake about China at least brought us cinnamon and metaphysics,
screens, ginger and calculations on eclipses, mother-of-pearl fans and, underlying these,
written lies. But what in heavens shall we gain from Germany?’ 18
More to the point, if German music, according to some critics, was indeed a danger (instrumental
music, in opera, gradually losing its traditional accompanying role), a point of view which ultimately
led these critics –with Geoffroy at the forefront- to express anti-Mozart opinions19
, why had French
opera composers of the time (in keeping with a two-century long operatic tradition) not simply sought
to outweigh this Germanic influence with their own ‘home-grown’ operatic style?
Indeed, by sifting through the many advertisements for opera performances in Le Figaro up to 1830
(and beyond), one can only admire the ever-growing list of up-and-coming composers (from Grétry
to Daleyrac, Mèlesville to Lebrun, and Persuis to Schneitzhoeffer); the regular performances of their
new works actually portray feverish musical activity in the French capital, and a handful of fortunate
composers (such as Auber and Halévy) would soon enter the ranks of a small posterity. However, to
this day, it is rather difficult to see how all these composers, along with their new works, contributed
to the making of a new French opera style.
The fact that, from Gluck to Meyerbeer, most French opera masters were –literally - foreigners did
not help either. Overall, ‘France, musically, was at her lowest ebb during this period, and in the
midst of the prevailing Italianate mediocrity and degenerate sub-romanticism… the lack of a
flourishing tradition… produced a large amount of bad art which fell beneath the standards which a
surer, but less ambitious, age would have reached… The fact that Auber, the ‘Scribe of Music’, was
believed by many to be the greatest French composer of the age, shows that those who believed the
nation’s musical taste lagging behind that of the Germans, may have been correct.’ 20
Not only did the French lack sheer creative impulse in the three decades preceding the July
Monarchy, but a certain aesthetic confusion also conspired to negate any clear sense of artistic
direction. Such confusion was comically expressed in a Figaro article, where the journalist ‘discusses’
the attributes of both Classical and Romantic styles:
18 Le Figaro, 21st July 1831, “Mr Victor Cousin in Germany”
19 Mongrédien, p338-340
20 Collingham, p282-283

13. ‘By classical I mean all that is good, and by romantic all that is divine, exquisite; however,
trying to improve something which is already perfect often brings disastrous results as you
will see. Mozart is good, the great maestro Rossini is divine… Moliere is good; Castil-Blaze is
priceless! Make a small fortune, choose a young, pleasant, and wealthy, woman; marry her,
as is normal, have children, earn an honest living, live a simple and pleasant life, this is the
classical way.
But burn with passion for a young beauty, seduce her, carry her off without a religious
wedding, abandon her with her offspring, that is the romantic way.
Rise at 7am, work until 4pm, dine at 5pm, play a game of piquet, go to bed, sleep, this is the
classical way. Rise at noon, lunch at the café Hardy, caper off to the Bois de Boulogne, dine
at Beauvilliers, dash off to Tortoni and from there on to the golden salons of the Cresus of
the day, gamble away one’s honour and fortune, blow one’s brains out, that is the romantic
way.’ 21
If the ‘Classic and its academic regularities seem to have lost their edge for a generation born in the
midst of the revolutions’ 22
, French opera composers seemed completely unable to tame this ‘truly
monstrous poetic force’ that is Romanticism.
To put it bluntly, since the end of Louis XV’s reign, French opera was torn between conflicting
aesthetic views: the French disregarded their own music in preference for the light music of the
Italians23
, and yet could never quite overcome the loss of their Tragédie Lyrique‘ s visual elements
(staging and ballet) and especially its dramatic substance (quality of the libretto, the plot, the literary
style, etc). On the other hand, in some bizarre twist of circumstances, Castil-Blaze’s ‘arrangements’
of Mozart’s operas had seemed in fact to increase the public’s appetite for Mozart’s music - and
Mozart’s music alone!
As if the French professional musical and operatic scene could not get any worse than it was, some
critics predicted an even darker future for the generations to come, -thanks to the poor state of
music schools in the capital! As one Figaro article explains:
‘The future of opera theatres is becoming darker every day. The ancient music traditions
have been replaced, it is true, by a new style which is closer to the brillante of our times; but
at present I see only mediocre singers executing these new compositions; and behind them I
21 Le Figaro, 15th December 1826, “Classical & Romantic”
22 Le Figaro, 31st July 1831, “A Roll of Tam-Tam – In the Camp of the Romantics”
23 André Jardin & André-Jean Tudesq: Restoration and Reaction 1815-1848, Cambridge University Press, 1983, p90

14. cannot see any others, as the musical breeding ground which should serve to recruit them is
now a desert. Not a single remarkable voice at the Conservatoire! ’ 24
Although it is true to say that the French, already in 1794, were the first to point out the superiority
of German and Italian conservatoires25
, and that the foundation of their own Paris Conservatoire a
year later undeniably began a new page in the history of music education in France (the
implementation of which was never questioned during the Empire), ‘the return to power of the
Bourbon dynasty in 1814 was to bring gloomy times for the Conservatoire, which the new regime
intended to penalize for its revolutionary origin… The Conservatoire was abolished and replaced in
March 1816 by the Royal School for Voice and Drama: the name of the former music school founded
in 1784 by Louis XVI. The name ‘Conservatoire’ did not reappear until 1831: for as long as they
occupied the throne, the Bourbon kings never forgave the first French music school its revolutionary
background.’ 26
Last but not least, the problems in the realm of music were not only limited to the Conservatoire. As
the previous Figaro article went on to show, it was the entire social structure which needed
revamping:
‘At the age when a voice is taking shape, between the ages of 18-20, young people have
already acquired a situation. Many of them help their families; many are the sole providers.
Will they forego steady wages to go into the theatre where, during the first years, there is
little gain? Will they abandon their parents to poverty to study for two or three years at the
Conservatoire? No, they probably will not, even if they were to find a more advantageous
situation immediately after leaving the School. The transition is impossible for them; these
two or three years frighten them, put them off entirely, and the theatre finds itself deprived,
for this reason, of a host of people who could one day ensure its splendour… What can be
done to correct this situation? The solution is simple and requires the smallest sacrifices.
France is sufficiently rich to provide to the artistic budget the sum of 30 000 francs, which
would yield huge results.’27
Timid attempts were made to galvanize young French composers’ spirits, as shown in the following
Figaro article:
24 Le Figaro, 15th August 1828
25 Mongrédien, p16
26 Mongrédien, p25
27 Mongrédien, p25

15. ‘One last word will explain our entire thought: Beethoven is the Cherubini of the
symphonies, and Mr Cherubini is the Beethoven of religious music. In our opinion these two
great composers have more in common and more which unites them than any other.’ 28
Encouraging propositions, however sarcastic they may seem, started to emerge in the press:
‘Mr Chelard’s work will soon be relegated to the Conservatoire library and we shall be
deprived of three or magnificent pieces which are drowned in this boring composition…
Mozart or Rossini would have produced a superb quintetto from this situation! Nothing of
the sort in Mr Chelard’s work: everything is in the recitative. May this lesson, given by the
audience, benefit our young composers, and especially Mr Chelard, who should not be
discouraged by the lack of success of his Macbeth. He must change the system, as it is now
proven, despite the Conservatoire, that an opera can be very fine although it does not make
one fall asleep.’ 29
Some believed, such as Paul Henry Lang, that it was the dominance of opera in 19th
century France
which precipitated ‘the complete decline of instrumental music, the complete extinction of the fine
symphonic school that started so auspiciously with Gossec, Méhul, Cherubini and others.’ 30
Either
way, ‘Parisian concerts [as F.-J. Fétis deplores] were in a dismal state’ 31
; ‘no national school was able
to emerge, and there was no single figure to take the lead of a radical movement. It was as if each
composer were following a solitary path, not hesitating nor retreating, but always ready, in case of
error, to choose a new direction.’32
Even Napoleon himself, in 1810, established prizes to acknowledge the best French operatic works
of his time. As Le Figaro explains:
‘Each year the Institut Royal de France awards prizes to the young composers chosen by the
Fine Arts section among the elite of candidates to succeed to the Boieldieus, Lesueurs,
Cherubinis; each year several gold and silver medals are produced to encourage the aspiring
geniuses. The chosen one is sent to Rome where for five years he receives an allowance of
1000 crowns. In this way the government generously gives fifteen thousand francs to perfect
the musical education of a young artist who has shown himself worthy…”33
But although
28 Le Figaro, 26th April 1830: “Concerts of the Conservatoire”
29 Le Figaro, 8th July 1827: “Académie Royale de Musique – Macbeth yet again”
30 Paul Henry Lang: Music in Western Civilization, 1941
31 Jeffrey Cooper: The rise of instrumental music and concert series in Paris 1828-1871, UMI Research Press, 1983, p4
32 Mongrédien: p50
33 Le Figaro, 5th August 1828: “Institut Royal de France – Composition Prize”

16. Spontini’s opera La Vestale and Méhul’s opéra-comique Joseph were among those chosen
by the Institut Royal de France to receive the prize34
, Les Mystères d’Isis was, in that same
year 1810, top of the list for the number of performances: 68…’35
For Fétis, Mozart represented, no more no less, the model of perfection, at the same time the
revolutionary agent for and the refiner of a musical language whose ideal proportions were, he felt,
already being distorted in the music of Beethoven.36
But yet again, Le Figaro sarcastically nailed the
coffin of French instrumental music in this article published in 2nd
April 1827:
‘I ask you, my dear French compratiots, what do you know about music? The Conservatoire
said: “We are not the best musicians in the world”. But when, for our misfortune, your
famous contrapunctalists want you to listen to their sublime productions, you remain cold
and unfeeling, you look at each other yawning, and you say as you leave: “That must be
good as I did not understand it...” For my part, as French as I am, I would prefer Mozart or
Cimarosa… Poor Frenchmen! In instrumental music, which composers could you compare to
the Boccherinis, Mozarts, Beethovens…? Leave Italy and Germany to fight over the sceptre
of this futile art; you have many other glories for them to envy; this does not, however,
prove that you are all geniuses.’37
Even 30 years later Antoine Elwart, in his Histoire de la Société des Concerts du Conservatoire (1860),
expressed profound discouragement with contemporary programmes: ‘We have only a few rare
symphonies performed, at great expense, at ever rarer concerts, and chamber music is only
performed at 2 or 3 gatherings of fervent amateurs… The majority of our composers must attempt
to prove themselves at the Théâtre Lyrique or risk vegetating without success or glory’.38
And
although Elwart remained optimistic about the abilities of native composers (‘We now have
symphonists worthy of competition with the Germans’39
), it was only after the Franco-Prussian War
(1870-1871) and the establishment of the 3rd
Republic (1871) that a renaissance took place, in which
native instrumental music, encouraged by new nationalism (and a revived anti-Germanic sentiment)
and particularly by the new Société Nationale de Musique –founded in 1871 under the motto Ars
Gallica- suddenly blossomed.’40
34 Mongrédien: p50
35 Cannone: p105
36 Katharine Ellis: Music criticism in 19th century France, Cambridge University Press, 1990, p99-100
37 Le Figaro, “Discours aux Welches sur la Musique”
38 Ellis, p5
39 Ellis, p6
40 idem

17. Yet, coming back to the last five or six years leading to the July Monarchy, the French public and
press seemed (for the time being at least) to pave the way to that renaissance, hailing Gioacchino
Rossini (bizarrely) as one of their first true national composers:
‘Oh, indescribable pleasure! If we had to cry: Victory! Victory! A Frenchman [sic] has seized
back the sceptre of music! Rossini, the sublime Rossini, unequalled in the land of the
Cimarosas, the Paisiellos, has found a conqueror, a master in the land of Berton and
Boieldieu. Oh, live the day when sounds of triumph will be hailed!’41
And:
‘Unlike poetry the beauty of music does not always withstand the test of time and place.
Tastes change and, as music progresses, what was once considered the best descends to a
lower level… One cannot deny that Rossini brought to music brilliance, richness, compared
to which our previous masterpieces now seem cold and faded.’42
Indeed, after the triumphant premiere of Rossini’s Moïse et Pharaon (26th
March 1827), the Italian
composer was crowned master of French grand opera. It seemed that no other French composer
(other than, perhaps, Auber…) could compete with the success of his works.
Extraordinarily, after all the hype surrounding the acclaimed Italian –dare we say: French!- master,
the ‘deep and unanimous admiration’ which the French devoted to Mozart never waned: like the
Commandatore in the final scene of Don Giovanni, Mozart’s insurmountable figure still stood
majestically (though not as terrifyingly…) in the Parisian background:
‘Esteem for Mr Rossini, of course, as much as you want, but though Mr Rossini were 20
times more Rossini than he is, he would not make me forget the masterpieces of Mozart…’43
Although Lamartine, in his Cours familier de littérature, gave a more level-headed account of how
Rossini’s newly-found fame could in fact cohabit with Mozart’s legendary greatness (‘With Mozart’s
passing, Rossini was being born, as if Fate meant for the voice and its own echo to be separated for
only an instant in the century’s eras. When I say echo, I do not mean to bring Rossini’s original
genius down to a simple role of echoing Mozart’s genius. They are different, but equal. Mozart
incarnates the prime melodies of Tyrol and Germany, while Rossini expresses Neapolitan gaiety and
41 Le Figaro, 1st July 1827
42 Le Figaro, 10th February 1827
43 Le Figaro, 18th June 1827

18. rapture… Mozart sings for singing’s sake, Rossini sings to move and to please.’44
), these opinions only
confirm, overall, the level in France of institutionalized admiration for Mozart’s music.
In fact, much more than an institution, Mozart was now openly called upon by the press to become
a symbol for young French composers:
‘We feel that the public would like to see a resurrection of the performance of Mozart’s Don
Juan… This would offer our young composers a new model, whose talent is a great example
and whose name carries powerful authority.’45
And:
‘Instead of writing familiar airs and romances, and thereby contributing to the decadence of
music, our young composers, certain of earning a living without prostituting their talent,
would undertake the honourable mission of reviving (by modifying them) works by Handel
and Mozart…’46
Finally:
‘As in all the Arts, music has its periods and revolutions. After being crowned during his
century, Lulli [sic] lost his throne to Rameau, who at first triumphed over the Italian buffoons
before falling himself into oblivion. Gluck throws himself into his career; people conspire
against him; he crushes his rivals and forces his detractors to sing his praises. The cry went
up to defend the nation’s honour; people were indignant that an intruder had more genius
than all French composers put together. And what happened? Public opinion supported the
great man. The glory of the Bohemian Gluck became associated with that of our school;
instead of pursuing Rameau’s imaginary system, our young artists took the path of the
immortal author of Iphigénie, and opera tragedy was born.
But then came another genius, whose ideas were in every way as profound as Gluck’s, and
whose fiery soul united with the science of harmonic resources little known to his
predecessor. Mozart, whose divine talent was at first unrecognized in Italy, totally
revolutionized dramatic music. Germany and Italy were affected by this; only France
remained immobile, with her traditional prejudices and her chant of 1777. It is therefore in
44 Mongrédien, p86-87
45 Le Figaro, 5th July 1827
46 Le Figaro, 7th April 1828

19. the name of Mozart, for whom our contrapunctalists profess fake admiration, that I call for a
reform of the old style of our opera.’47
Finally elevated, bon gré mal gré, by Le Figaro to the rank of ‘international’ status four years after
the July Monarchy uprising (‘As Don Juan belongs to the domain, although it has been appropriated
by the Italians despite its German origin, it belongs to whoever has the strength to carry it; to the
first Hercules, the first Atlas who can carry on their shoulders the heavy burden of this pyramidal
wonder’48
), Mozart, ‘the creator [according to Fétis] of a new and universal musical language, who
swept aside the music of three nations and posited a superior model’49
, achieved in less than a
decade the impossible by, in one fell swoop: changing, overall, the French public’s appreciation of
music itself as the most powerful medium in dramatic art, and taking the new generation of French
composers to new musical heights never before explored.
But the final irony in this wonderful success story is that it had all begun with Castil-Blaze’s
‘arrangements’ of Mozart’s operas! Indeed, little was he to know that his very own personal
correction of Mozart’s priceless works softened the ears of the most reluctant of opera-goers,
introduced them to beauties unheard of and revolutionized the Parisian operatic and musical scene:
‘Music as powerful and profound as Mozart’s has the advantage over music which is graceful
but little worked on, such as the music of the Italian school in general, that is always worth
studying: even when seen a hundred times the pleasure it brings is always fresh, always
livelier… But Mr Castil-Blaze believed he had to shorten the Maestro’s work, and we cannot
approve all the cuts he allowed himself. In a work as admirable as Le Nozze di Figaro
everything is precious; one must have powerful reasons to deprive the public of the least
important pieces… But why take out the Countess’s charming cavatina at the beginning of
the second act? Leaving it in would in no way have slowed down the action… But with what
remains there would be sufficient material for another twenty masterpieces of the day. Not
a single note without a profound intention, not a phrase whose expression is not true and
full of grace and delicateness; everything is combined with an admirable art, musical genius
can go no further. What harmony, what sincerity in the opening; what charm, what esprit,
what strength in all the rest.’50
And:
47 Le Figaro, 24th April 1827: “Académie Royale de Musique – Les Bayaderes – The Music Crisis of French Opera”
48 Le Figaro, 12th March 1834
49Ellis, p90
50 Le Figaro, 30th July 1826: “Odeon – The Marriage of Figaro”

20. ‘Mr Castil-Blaze’s work, which cannot be left to Beaumarchais, so badly constructed it is, will
probably attract everyone in Paris to the Odéon, thanks to Mozart’s adorable music, as badly
arranged as it is.’ 51
Finally:
‘As usual, the orchestra won the honours of the evening, and what is left of Beaumarchais
and Mozart, after having been so cruelly laid down on the bed of Procuste, will no doubt
suffice to attract the crowds and rake in the money for the Odéon. Pure gold is preferable;
but even alloyed gold is not yet to be looked down upon.’52
Overall, between French critics and Mozart’s stage works, things could not have seemed happier.
Act 3 - “Vive la musique! Vive la France!”
If the last four to five years leading to the July Monarchy had substantially contributed (willingly or
not, consciously or not) to a Mozart revival, which in turn led to a greater national musical identity in
France (however, artificial that may have been at the time), the years following the July uprising
however saw Mozart’s star shine less and less bright in music critics’ opinions. Indeed, many
comments suggest that some of his music at least sounded a little too strange for their ears…
How can we explain this sudden fall from grace? Could the spiritual child of this Mozart redécouverte
(ie: a ‘revamped’ French music scene) have finally turned on its creator?
In The Rise of Instrumental Music and Concert Series in Paris 1828-1871, Jeffrey Cooper distinguishes
two socio-musical periods:
1) 1828-1833: a period of confusion in which optimism resulting from the establishment of new
concert societies and musical ‘salons’, after the pre-1828 musical depression, was followed
by disappointment because of unrealized expectations. Musical activity after the July
Monarchy in 1830 seemed rather directionless.
2) 1833-1839: a time of new concert series, performing both “art” and “popular” music for new
(less aristocratic) audiences.’53
51 Le Figaro, 26th July 1826
52 Le Figaro, 25th July 1826: “Odéon – Beaumarchais, Mozart and the Public martyrs of Mr Castil-Blaze”
53 Cooper, p9

21. Regarding the first period, Mr Cooper’s assertions are clearly stated in three Figaro articles from the
same period:
‘All composers, young and old, copy Rossini without producing anything worthwhile…’54
And:
‘Old opera-goers complained that traditional repertoire was being abandoned for works by
Rossini and Auber. Their minds and hearts are filled with Gluck, Grétry, Candheil, Sacchini
and Spontini; they want to be rejuvenated with melodies which charmed them in the past:
that is quite right. Mr Véron has given them Orpheus, which they celebrated, but which the
new public greeted with indifference.’55
Finally:
‘The Comic Opera genre is a hybrid genre which defies common sense. Born of the
vaudeville, it cannot entirely escape its unfortunate origins. The immense progress in music,
the sharpening of French ears block any chance of success for this formless specimen which
at times drapes itself in showy rags to imitate Opera, or wallows in the obscene genre as it
did in the beginning. The Académie Royale de Musique, solemnly boring in the past, decreed
the need for a lighter genre, more accessible to the spectator masses. By combining
declamation with singing, they thought they had achieved this result. At that time the public
hurried to the theatre which combined the gaiety of vaudeville with the horrors of drama or
high tragedy…’56
As for Cooper’s second period, the year 1830 had indeed installed in power the middle class –ie: the
lawyers and bankers- who had attained a position of frustrated influence in the preceding years.57
Thus, middle-class music, as a “popular” form of art, was soon to be consumed by an increasingly
expanding public. This however did not seem to encourage an immediate earth-shattering
renouveau in French music making –quite the opposite! According to the following Figaro article
published on 22 December 1833, a sudden craze, for instance, for all things Ancient régime seemed
for a time to have taken over the capital’s music halls:
‘It was the duty of the new management of the Opera to try to regenerate the fancy dress
balls which were once one of the glories of the Académie Royale de Musique; the
54 Le Figaro, 3rd November 1829
55 Le Figaro, 11th September 1831
56 Le Figaro, March 1832
57 Collingham, p2

22. standardized ‘domino’, the monotonous music quadrilles for indifferent crowds had ceased
to be an attraction for today’s society. In order to re-programme these balls in a different
form and make them worthy of the present period of art and elegance in which we live, the
management of the Opera had to look carefully how to provide the pleasures of the Carnival
which would satisfy everyone… The administration decided that the Opera should only
programme new music and dance music written especially for their balls; they entrusted this
mission to the most distinguished masters and to a number amateurs who have a brilliant
reputation in this genre. They chose Messrs. Auber, Adam, the Count of Bongars, Messrs.
Boieldieu father and son, the Prince of Moskowa, Messrs. Musard, Alphee de Régny, Rossini,
Schneitzhoeffer and Troupenas. Most of these pieces will form a collection which will be
arranged for piano by Messrs. H. Herz and Rifaut.’58
Whatever the artistic value of this short-lasting fashion for musique aristocartique, musical activity in
general in France, starting in the early 1830s, was literally booming in all four corners of the country.
As one reporter from Le Figaro wrote:
‘The love of the arts is becoming universal in France, from north to south, alongside
civilization and generalized education it is penetrating towns in the most isolated provinces.
If Voltaire were to return he would find that there are fewer foreigners. The arts, such as
literature, are no longer monopolised by the capital, and many facts prove this. The
following example is but a number of indications from all over France… An historic concert
has just taken place in Caen, conducted by Mr de Saint-Germain… The first arias were
followed by an aria by J-J Rouseau, a chorus by Gluck and another by Handel. A young
college student, gifted with a strong and sonorous voice, then sang enthusiastically and
joyfully one of the finest arias from Haydn’s The Creation: the entire audience expressed,
several times, their full satisfaction. Two pieces of church music, a Requiem by Jomelli, and
an Ave Verum by Mozart crowned –with dignity- the first part of the concert.’59
As we have previously seen, even the status of instrumental concerts and, more specifically,
instrumentalists, was by far better recognized:
‘What would become of the violin variations, piano concertos and foreign masterpieces if
instrumentalists were not invited to perform in concerts? An instrumentalist spends his
entire life perfecting his art; he consumes himself in overcoming never-ending difficulties,
58 Le Figaro, 22 December 1833: “Opera – Restoration of Fancy Dress Balls”
59 Le Figaro, 26th July 1834: “Historic Concert in Caen”

23. and if he finally succeeds, after so much effort, is it in order to join the ranks of accompanists
or the army of symphonists? His ambitions reveal another objective; it is in concerts that this
objective can be attained…’60
Amusingly, for someone who had nostalgically claimed – in one of his trademark romantic outbursts
- that ‘the music that was there, [ie: in the aftermath of the Trois Glorieuses] – the songs, the harsh
voices resounding through the streets- nobody who did not hear it can have any idea what it was
like…’61
, Hector Berlioz had himself become, since 1830, the revolutionary French composer, the
torchbearer who would soon introduce a long line of true native composers. Not that the press
immediately elevated him to such a worthy status: apart from one article published in Le Figaro two
years prior to the July Monarchy uprising:
‘The monopoly of music is like that of literature and science; everywhere the oldies block the
route of the newcomers. Listen to them speak, these intrepid athletes of the old routine: to
hear them, young people are motivated by rebellion and subversion; there is no more
respect for things, the gothic doctrines are thrown aside. These are the unredeemable
crimes, misdeeds which must be expiated at all costs. These matadors of the previous
century say to the men of today: “Work as hard as you wish; but we shall stop your works
being performed. Criticize as much as you want the classical far niente and our old
masterpieces; it is we nonetheless who have the positions and the pensions, whereas you
die of hunger and you blow on your fingers to warm them when it rains in your attics…”
Courage, Mr Berlioz! You have all it takes to succeed. Be yourself and only imitate nature;
but remember that the effects of music are only powerful when they are treated correctly
and that order and clarity, plus the sincerity of the songs, guarantee success.’62
…none of the other articles seemed very encouraging towards the young composer…
But what about Mozart in all of this? As we have seen, the novelty of Mozart’s style had, up to the
early 1830s, never really been questioned by critics or the public, and many of his pieces continued
to spice up concert programmes, especially in the rural parts of France. But as Katharine Ellis
observes, Mozart was felt to have fallen short (in the realm of symphonic music, oddly enough!) by
Berlioz himself for instance, whose dedication to Beethoven led him to underestimate Mozart’s late
symphonies, just as his love of Gluck coloured his view of Mozart’s operas.63
From 1830 onwards,
60 Le Figaro, 7th March 1832: “Société des Concerts”
61 Robert J. Bezucha, The Art of the July Monarchy, France 1830 to 1848, University of Missouri Press, 1990
62 Le Figaro, 27th May 1828: “Mr Berlioz’ Concert”
63 Ellis, p99

24. Parisian exposure to Mozart’s orchestral music was restricted to his mature symphonies (of which
the most popular, by far, was K550). Its perceived melancholy and passion contributed to its
reputation, though Berlioz recalls Schumann in referring to it as ‘this model of delicacy and naivety’.
Critics on a whole never regarded the symphonies as Mozart’s finest work: in a mode of reception
unchanged from the beginning of the century, the finale to the Jupiter K551 for instance was too
cold and scholastic, whilst Berlioz was true to his nature in dismissing the Haydenesque finale of no
39 K543 as ‘truly unworthy of such a master’. Later, criticism of Mozart as over-scholastic extended
beyond the symphonies to the quartets, and audience reaction to the symphonies became tepid.64
Past the second half of the century, the lot of Mozart’s orchestral music was no better, and was
again condoned by the Gazette’s critics. The divide between the reception and the performance
frequency of his dramatic, as against his orchestral, music widened considerably, with an important
increase of interest in operas other than Don Giovanni (in particular, a series of productions at the
Théâtre-Lyrique from 1858 which left his symphonic works entirely in the shade.65
This subtle change of attitude, starting in the early 1830s, towards the Austrian composer -he who
had posthumously engaged with so many young French ebullient minds (whose proponents,
ironically, were later to reject his own orchestral and instrumental music!)- seems at first rather
incomprehensible. It was not as if no historiographical progress (which by no means would have
greatly contributed to a greater “universal” understanding of Mozart’s instrumental work in France)
had occurred in French academic circles. According to Robert J. Bezucha:
‘French historiography was undergoing significant changes in the 1830s. Factual reporting was
receiving more emphasis, concurrent with a move away from seeing history in terms of a dynastic
chronicle and a change in focus from the hero to the masses. The same “democratic” attitude that
led to Louis-Philippe’s being named ‘king of the French’ and not “king of France” reflected itself in
the accepted mode of presenting the past. Manifestations of the new spirit can be seen in several
popular trends in historical writing during the 1830s and 1840s. One stressed that history should be
told as a narrative with little commentary; a second recounted facts from an individual’s point of
view, often through memoirs; a third assembled the historic past (distant and near) in encyclopaedic
presentations of events and personages; and a fourth linked history and the historical novel, taking
liberties with fact to recapture the spirits of earlier epochs. Numerous journal advertisements give
proof of the veritable explosion of enthusiasm for history in the publishing industry in the early
1830s. The relatively low price per volume of these historical works, the simultaneous printing of an
64 Ellis, p91-92
65 Ellis, p93

25. edition on different quality papers, the supplying of such books through the mail, and the
publication of selected works as serial editions indicate their wide availability.’66
The following Figaro article illustrates Bezucha’s assertions; although it still lacks historical accuracy
(and thereby: rigorous journalistic method…), by claiming for instance that Don Giovanni was
premiered in Prague in 1786 rather than 1787, the overall critical approach taken by the journalist is
quite commendable:
‘The pedantics and story-tellers have so often exploited the memory of Mozart, scoured his life
and reflections as an artist, and added trivial anecdotes to the many performances of Don Juan,
that, without wanting to ramble on, it must be remembered simply that this beautiful work
dates back to 1786, when it was performed in Prague, and that one day it ended up at the Opera
in about 1805… We shall not imitate those clever writers who never miss an opportunity,
whenever this masterpiece is resurrected, to exhume a past filled with success, emotions and
frenzy: the requisite prefatory comments of every critic of Don Juan; we shall only refer to the
generation of the day and what they say… There are definitely many ways to understand this
welcome and daring attempt on the part of the Opera. We are definitely mistaken if all we see is
a well reasoned reaction against the oppression of the Italian school which had submerged the
music world, a protest against the rich, abundant and colourful style (as Mr Ingres tries to do
with his bull’s legs, stallion’s muscle, rhinoceros breasts [sic]) if one believes that the Opera has
sought to go astray on the dark paths and in the mists of the German school. Certain deformed
minds, such as of those who are always looking for ulterior motives in decent people who,
sometimes, do not even have any thoughts on the subject have uncovered a devilish scheme, a
combination of rivalry and competition, against the Théâtre-Italien. And if the Opera, wanting to
celebrate and welcome Mozart’s work, has called upon all the major names and their doubles; if
they have displayed the ensigns, hoisted the banner and sent to battle the reserve corps, the
barons and vassals, the home guard, the national guard, the veterans and invalids, we think that
they want to cross swords with the Italian troupe: the Opera never seeks quarrel with its
neighbours; our French singers are good, upstanding and model artists, who have their own
genre, a genre which is highly appreciated in the country and which they are right to preserve as
it has brought fame to them and fortune to the management to whom they are attached.’67
66 Bezucha, p81
67 Le Figaro, 12th March 1834

26. Act 4 - A bitter love affair
The French public’s ‘deep and unanimous admiration’ for Mozart’s operas might have still seemed
alive and well. However the following article, which was to be the last ever written on the composer
before Le Figaro momentarily stopped publishing, suggests this fall from grace of the composer in
the eyes (and ears) of the journalist:
‘Far be it from us to dispute the true merit of Mozart’s work. Quite apart from the futility of
such a belated judgement which was the responsibility of our grandfathers, according to
whom we owe religious respect to this musical fetish which arouses such worship and
fanaticism. And yet, permit to say that, rich in ideas, profound in harmony, Don Juan has
never had to inspire electrifying enthusiasm: the ensemble is sublime, it is a beautiful
pyramid with no ornamentation where one’s imagination can be brought to play. For
musicians, the contrapunctalists, Don Juan is a book of faith, it is the bible: they believed in it
and spread the word of Mozart. But for the throngs who seek pleasures and not studies, can
they be satisfied with this solemn eloquence of the harmony, these simple and smooth arias,
but which are seldom warm and brilliant. Today especially, when the Italian torrent has
swept away all the vestiges of ancient traditions, what opportunity exists for this restoration
of Don Juan, this commemoration of a musical created in 1786 [sic], this fiftieth anniversary
between the public and Mozart’s muse? What is undisputable is the genius of this great
composer; what can no longer be admired is the form it derived from the retrograde
sciences of its time. The old enthusiasts, who claim to know it all, tell us, we who are yet not
thirty: You have never seen a good performance of Don Juan. A pity for Don Juan, for as far
as we know seven or eight Italian companies have sung themselves hoarse performing it. A
divine composition which has not led a revolution with the Malibrans, the Sontags, the
Garcias, the Lablaches, which has not reacted against the Italian tradition resulting in the
banning and hanging of Rossini, this composition is now only a book to be placed in a library
and which the theatre must reject as a neck-breaker. We fail to understand the idea behind
the rerun of Don Juan at the Opera. No one asked them for this kind of tour de force. Every
Italian troupe the season brings us is obliged to prove itself: its only resource is perfection in
the singing: and it does not harm its reputation if it takes on a work which seems to defy the
capacities of the singers.
Nor is it rare that these efforts are crowned by a humanly feasible success; and this year Don
Giovanni was magnificently performed at the Favart Hall. But if the overall beauty, the pomp

27. of the performance have given more than one success to our great opera theatres it is
admitted that we do not have any exceptional talents: there are few nationalities which
show a sadly notorious inferiority, but this can have its advantages. We have here a grave
danger. When Rossini came to work in France, musical ideas were totally regenerated; the
old methods of singing disappeared: willingly or not Derivis had to sing roulades, the habits
of the entire company were shaken up and this impulse brought us some works which were
well executed. But Rossini’s hand has retreated, it no longer provides the movement; and
one already observes with fear the cries, the shouts, the violent sound attacks, which have
replaced finesse and charm. Instead of pure and flowery diction, our singers prefer action
and fury: too often a convulsive grimace, a contraction of the facial and neck muscles, try to
conceal the lack of taste and the imperfection in the method. The praises showered on the
comedian, the tragedian, the actor, are the death of the singer, who, when moving outside
the effects of the music and combining the resources of both art genres, only obtains a
hybrid declamation, a disorderly vocalisation These are, unfortunately, collective complaints:
we shall, later, judge each one separately.
Suffice at present to express our fears concerning the bad direction the school is taking. Don
Juan seems to us the Eldorado of singers with powerful lungs, singers whose voices have
never become pliable by working on cadences: this is why we regret to see this work
performed by our artists who already tend to repeat the roaring manners of their
predecessors.”68
Translating such an article into modern-day English is by no means an easy task, such is the pompous
and convoluted style in which writers of the time so cheerily revelled. Their propensity to swiftly
glide from one issue to another makes today’s reader dubious as regards to these writers’ sincerity.
Despite this, one important idea, at least, clearly emerges from this unusually long article: Mozart,
for all of those ‘who had not yet turned thirty’, had inexorably become a thing of the past. Although
the writer maintains that ‘Don Juan is, for musicians, a book of faith, the bible’, his heart dictates
that ‘this composition is now only a book to be placed in a library.’ More importantly, by asserting
that ‘what is undisputable is the genius of this great composer, and that what can no longer be
admired is the form it derived from the retrograde sciences of its time’, the journalist takes a leap of
faith into the unknown: what form is he referring to? Could this form refer –irony of ironies- to opera
yet again? If so, both the public and the critics would this time find their match in Richard Wagner,
and the fight for artistic emancipation would go on for many more years: ‘Wagnerism remained a
68 Le Figaro, 15th March 1834

28. dominant cultural reference in the musical life of the French capital before the Great War.
Composers such as Chabrier, Saint-Saens, Chausson, d'Indy, Duparc, de Breville, Dukas, Massenet,
Debussy, Charpentier and Dubois had all made the pilgrimage to Bayreuth. The great German
master's potent harmonies, rich orchestration, and the semi-mystical atmosphere induced by the
mythological subject matter of his operas proved too seductive to resist. As Robin Holloway noted: "
Debussy's hostility to Wagner is entirely verbal; musically he remained a follower of Wagner, though
in devious manner, for the rest of his life." And Wagner had even found an early advocate in
Baudelaire, who also sought to evoke a similar intensity of feeling in his own poetry.'69
And still: with perseverance, French composers would slowly break free from Wagner’s wizardry and
come to (re)discovering their true artistic identity, through exotic themes (Bizet’s Djamileh and
Carmen, Saint-Saens’ La Princesse jaune…) and a growing fascination for ‘otherworldly’ musical
techniques such as the pentatonic scale, modes, and a more ethereal sort of instrumentation.
But what about Mozart in all of this? In the words of Le Sueur, a composer and proud defender of
French art who was yet shocked by the attempt by some of his peers to denigrate Mozart in order to
elevate French composers:
‘Mozart is an extraordinary composer, one of those prodigies that Nature rarely produces… Mozart
may have been born in Germany [sic], but his talent has made him a citizen of the world… His
melodious language has no limits, it is universal. In London, Vienna, St Petersburg, Madrid, Rome, or
Paris his music will always speak to the heart, and people’s hearts the world over will understand
it.’70
69
R-L Smith, Caroline Potter, French Music since Berlioz, Ashgate Publishing, Ltd, 2006, pp34
70 Mongrédien, p334

29. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Robert J. Bezucha
The Art of The July Monarchy, France 1830-1848
University of Missouri Press, 1990
Belinda Cannone
La Réception des Opéras de Mozart dans la Presse Parisienne 1789-1829
Paris-Klincksieck, 1991
H.A.C. Collingham
The July Monarchy: a Political History of France 1830-1848
Longman, 1988
Jeffrey Cooper
The Rise of Instrumental Music and Concert Series in Paris 1828-1871
UMI Research Press, 1983
Katharine Ellis
Music Criticism in 19th Century France
Cambridge University Press, 1990
Le Figaro
1826-1834
Microfiche Collection, British Library, Colindale
André Jardin & André-Jean Tudesq
Restoration & Reaction 1815-1848
Cambridge University Press, 1983
Jacques de Lacretelle
Face à l’évènement: Le Figaro 1826-1966
Librairie Hachette, 1966
Paul Henry Lang
Music in Western Civilization
1941
Jean Mongrédien
French Music from the Enlightenment to Romanticism, 1789-1830
Amadeus Press, 1996
Richard Langham Smith, Caroline Potter
French Music Since Berlioz
Ashgate Publishing Ltd., 2006