led the former to compose an opera on a libretto from this work, which was given at the Theatre Lyrique, March 19, 1864, under the name of “Mireille.”  The music, however, was rather descriptive and lyric than dramatic, as befitted this lovely ideal of early French provincial life; and in spite of its containing some of the most captivating airs ever written, and the fine interpretation of the heroine by Miolan-Carvalho, it was accepted with reservations.  It has since become more popular in its three-act form to which it was abridged.  It is a tribute to the essential beauty of Gounod’s music that, however unsuccessful as operas certain of his works have been, they have all contributed charming morceaux for the enjoyment of concert audiences.  Not only did the airs of “Mireille” become public favorites, but its overture is frequently given as a distinct orchestral work.

The opera of “La Colombe,” known in English as “The Pet Dove,” followed in 1866; and the next year was produced the five-act opera of “Romeo et Juliette,” of which the principal part was again taken by Madame Miolan-Carvalho.  The favorite pieces in this work, which is a highly poetic rendering of Shakespeare’s romantic tragedy, are the song of Queen Mab, the garden duet, a short chorus in the second act, and the duel scene in the third act.  For some occult reason, “Romeo et Juliette,” though recognized as a work of exceptional beauty and merit, and still occasionally performed, has no permanent hold on the operatic public of to-day.

The evils that fell on France from the German war and the horrors of the Commune drove Gounod to reside in London, unlike Auber, who resolutely refused to forsake the city of his love, in spite of the suffering and privation which he foresaw, and which were the indirect cause of the veteran composer’s death.  Gounod remained several years in England, and lived a retired life, seemingly as if he shrank from public notice and disdained public applause.  His principal appearances were at the Philharmonic, the Crystal Palace, and at Mrs. Weldon’s concerts, where he directed the performances of his own compositions.  The circumstances of his London residence seem to have cast a cloud over Gounod’s life and to have strangely unsettled his mind.  Patriotic grief probably had something to do with this at the outset.  But even more than this as a source of permanent irritation may be reckoned the spell cast over Gounod’s mind by a beautiful adventuress, who was ambitious to attain social and musical recognition through the eclat of the great composer’s friendship.  Though newspaper report may be credited with swelling and distorting the naked facts, enough appears to be known to make it sure that the evil genius of Gounod’s London life was a woman, who traded recklessly with her own reputation and the French composer’s fame.