modern school.  With all his admiration of Mozart, Gounod possessed little of his idol’s genius for characterisation.  The types in ‘Faust’ do not stand out clearly.  Margaret, for instance, is merely a sentimental school-girl; she has none of the girlish freshness and innocence of Goethe’s Gretchen, and Mephistopheles is much more of a tavern bully than a fallen angel.  Yet with all its faults ‘Faust’ remains a work of a high order of beauty.  Every page of the score tells of a striving after a lofty ideal, and though as regards actual form Gounod made no attempt to break new ground, the aim and atmosphere of ‘Faust,’ no less than the details of its construction, contrast so strongly with the conventional Italianism of the day, that it may well be regarded as the inauguration of a new era in French music.

‘Faust’ marks the zenith of Gounod’s career.  After 1859 he was content for the most part merely to repeat the ideas already expressed in his chef-d’oevre, while in form his later works show a distinctly retrograde movement.  He seems to have known nothing of the inward impulse of development which led Wagner and Verdi from strength to strength.

Philemon et Baucis’ (1860) is a charming modernisation of a classical legend.  Jupiter and Vulcan, visiting earth for the purpose of punishing the impiety of the Phrygians, are driven by a storm to take refuge in the cottage of an aged couple, Philemon and Baucis.  Pleased with the hospitable treatment which he receives at their hands, and touched by the mutual affection of the old people, which time has done nothing to impair, Jupiter restores their lost youth to them.  This leads to dangerous complications.  The rejuvenated Baucis is so exceedingly attractive that Jupiter himself falls a victim to her charms, and Philemon becomes jealous and quarrelsome.  Baucis finally persuades Jupiter to promise her whatever she wishes, and having extorted the oath compels him to return to Olympus, leaving Philemon and herself to enjoy another lifetime of uninterrupted happiness.  ‘Philemon et Baucis’ adheres strictly to the conventional lines of opera comique, and has little beyond its tuneful grace and delicate orchestration to recommend it.  Nevertheless it is a charming trifle, and has survived many of Gounod’s more pretentious works.  ‘La Reine de Saba’ (1862) and ’La Colombe’ (1866) are now forgotten, but ‘Mireille’ (1864), one of the composer’s most delightful works, still enjoys a high degree of popularity.  The story, which is founded upon Mistral’s Provencal romance ‘Mireio,’ is transparently simple.  Vincent, a young basket-maker, loves the fair Mireille, who is the daughter of a rich farmer named Raymond.  Raymond will have nothing to say to so humble a suitor, and favours the pretensions of Ourrias, a herdsman.  While making a pilgrimage to a church in the desert of Crau, Mireille has a sunstroke, and her life is despaired of.  In an access of grief and remorse her father promises to