Gluck’s surname means ‘Joy’ – and so does his music. Or some of it.
Hear Kathleen Ferrier’s recording of the aria ‘Che faro senza Euridice’ (‘What
is life to me without thee’) from Orfeo
ed Euridice and the directness and depth of the music is unmistakeable:
it’s pure aural gold.
Gluck
was a pivotal figure in opera’s development, switching its emphasis away from
the virtuosity of its singers to the core of the drama they were supposed to
express. His works prepared the ground not only for the operas of Mozart, but
also – many decades later – Berlioz and Wagner, who revered him. His biography
was written by Alfred Einstein. Strange, then, that it is rare to hear much of
his work today, beyond a few “greatest hits”.
Without
Gluck (who was born in the Upper Palatinate in 1714 and died in Vienna in 1787)
the history of opera would have been unrecognisable. Berlioz summed him up,
writing: “He innovated in almost every field... he was gifted with an
extraordinary feeling for expression and a rare understanding of the human
heart, and his sole aim was to give passions a true, profound and powerful
language.”
Gluck
developed an antipathy to traditional baroque Italian opera seria – perhaps because he was not especially good at writing
them. He enjoyed some early successes in the genre, but an attempt to establish
himself in London came to a rapid and ignominious end, drawing harsh words from
Handel, who famously declared that Gluck “knows no more counterpoint than my
cook”.
Counterpoint
was not what interested Gluck. Literature inspired him, poetry, drama and
character; when an opera libretto was underpowered, so, arguably, were his
results. But at his finest, Gluck reached the cutting edge of Enlightenment
composition well ahead of anybody else.
Einstein
made an intriguing accusation, however, suggesting that just after the success
of Orfeo ed Euridice in 1762, Gluck
reverted to the old opera seria style
he disliked for an opera entitled Ezio
– possibly for the sake of a good fee. Perhaps he did. But perhaps it didn’t
matter: according to Sir Roger Norrington, Gluck’s significance is deeper than
just his attempts at musical revolution.
“Gluck’s
influence arose from his melodic genius as much as from his reforming zeal,” he
comments. “The touching honesty of his arias gives them tremendous power. I
admire the way Gluck risks great simplicity in his musical methods, at a time
when elaboration and show were taken to such lengths – Gluck is basically a
very serious composer, but he touches the heart with the strength of his
feeling.”
Gluck reached
the zenith of fame via a tremendous controversy, stirred up as only Parisian
high society knew how. He was the favourite composer of Marie Antoinette, who
had once been his pupil in Vienna. With her help, he secured some operatic
commissions in Paris in the 1770s and moved to live there. Madame du Barry,
mistress of King Louis XV and no friend to his grandson’s queen-to-be, set up a
direct opponent, championing a leading Italian composer of opera seria, Niccolo
Piccini, and having him summoned to the French capital. Amid these musical
dangerous liaisons, the city divided into passionate Gluckists and
Piccini-ists, their fans even fighting duels to establish the superiority of
their favourite.
Ultimately
the composers fought a musical duel, both writing operas on the same subject, Iphigénie en Tauride. The result?
Gluck’s quality shone through for all to hear.
Now it
has a chance to do so again.
The OAE, Royal Festival Hall, 30
September, 7pm. Box office: 0844 875 0073
