Sapho, tragédie lyrique en trois actes

The première of the opera Sapho by Antoine Reicha took place on 16 December 1822 at the Académie royale de musique in Paris. It received eleven further performances, the last being on 12 May of the following year. We know of no other production of this work.

The action of the opera takes place in Sicily. Phaon, having abandoned his lover, the poet Sapho, wishes to marry the young Néris, yet he still feels remorse for his infidelity. Néris reassures him and the two lovers make their way to the altar to consecrate their marriage. At that moment, Sapho arrives at the island, but is prevented from disembarking by a band of pirates. At last, charmed by her songs, the pirates release her. The priest of Juno is on the point of blessing the marriage when Sapho appears on the scene. The ceremony is interrupted and everyone departs. Sapho finds Phaon on the sea-shore and seduces him with the music of her lyre. Seeing Phaon leaving with Sapho, Néris faints. Phaon now hesitates and turns away from Sapho. She curses him and hurls herself from the cliff-top into the sea below. A violent storm develops and the god Apollo is seen receiving Sapho as the tenth Muse. The priest, interpreting that as a sign of reconciliation, finally marries Néris and Phaon.

The opera-goers of the time, familiar with the “classic” story of Sapho, would have noticed several changes, such as her apotheosis in Sicily, rather than her death in Leucadia. The work contains features typical of romanticism, such as the use of local colour: Reicha includes a barcarolle and a sicilienne (particularly appropriate!) to evoke the Mediterranean. In a similarly romantic vein, we have the use of multiple choruses, active in the plot. There are moments when Reicha takes the opportunity to present Sapho composing music, as in her invocation to Venus in the scene with the pirates. Can we then consider this opera as, in part, an act of homage to music itself? We may recall François Truffaut’s work, La Nuit américaine, a film about making a film. The relationship between the real, historical Sapho and the character Sapho in our opera becomes even more complex when, first, Sapho, and then in reply Phaon, sings a paraphrase in French of the first strophe of a poem by the real Sapho, the one that begins “φαίνεταί μοι κῆνος ἴσος θέοισιν” (“He seems to me equal to the gods”). A good number of the audience of 1822 would have known this poem in Greek, as well as Catullus’s Latin translation of it: they would have said to themselves “Sapho is singing Sapho’s poem!” An extraordinary moment in this work!

On the social level, Sapho was not a success. The critics were, for the most part, unimpressed. That of Le Réveil doubted whether the public would be attracted by an old woman running after her faithless lover. In his autobiographical writings, Reicha thinks that the time was not propitious for his work, the public having “taken a strong dislike to grand opera”. There were also practical difficulties. Reicha complains about the changes demanded by the administration: “My music,” he writes, “was once again on this occasion ruined, dismembered, and cruelly mutilated.” Nevertheless, the composer was sure of the quality of his opera: “I am persuaded,” he continues, “that Sapho, though failing now, will live longer than a great number of works that have been successful in our own time… several of which have even been praised to the heavens.” We hope that our editions, of the overture and of a scene from the first act, will help to realize Reicha’s prediction.

Michael Bulley