This year is the tercentenary of Antoine Dauvergne (1713-97). From 1744 Rameau’s pupil rose through the ranks of the Académie Royale de Musique (ie the Paris Opéra) and in 1769 was appointed one of its directors. Remembered by historians for his initially reluctant negotiations to bring Gluck to Paris in the early 1770s, Dauvergne’s music was criticised by Burney as ‘very dull and heavy…in the oldest and worst French style’ but his merits are commemorated in timely fashion by two live concert recordings, both made in November 2011 in association with the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles.

The libretto of the tragédie lyrique Hercule mourant (1761) by Jean-François Marmontel is influenced by Sophocles’s tale of the jealous Deianira’s inadvertent murder of her husband Hercules. Contemporaries praised the decor of the terrible scene in which Hercules burns on a funeral pyre but sharp division arose over the music: one critic joked that ‘the whole opera ought to be thrown on the pyre in the fifth act’, whereas Dauvergne’s supporters protested it was ‘ingenious, light and stimulating’. Christophe Rousset’s theatrical pacing is spot-on; Les Talens Lyriques are on fine form in the lithe Ouverture; and dances are played with a keen sense of balletic movement. Véronique Gens’s authoritative recitatives convey the swinging emotional fortunes of the anxious Déjanire; her vitriolic reaction to news of Hercule’s secret plan to marry his beautiful captive Ïole brings Act 2 to a strong climax. Ïole’s idyllic pastoral ‘Quelle voix suspend mes alarmes?’ is sung sweetly by Julie Fuchs. Hercules’s bitter shame at his unworthy deceit of his wife at the start of Act 3 is sung commandingly by Andrew Foster-Williams, accompanied by a dark orchestration dominated by bassoons.

Dauvergne’s ill-fated comédie lyrique La vénitienne (1768) was condemned by one cynical eyewitness as ‘a tedious piece of drollery’ but Benoît Dratwicki’s essay claims that it bridges ‘the gap between Rameau and Pergolesi’. The elegant playing of Les Agrémens conveys the opera’s charms; the convivial Ouverture has a beguiling Largo featuring rolling woodwinds and pizzicato strings, whereas the outer quick movements offer shades of Haydn. The light-hearted plot of Venetian lovers reconciled after bizarre escapades warranted a frothy score packed with short tuneful arias (it is hard to spot them in Hercule mourant) and amusing orchestral interludes. The lovely opening scene in which Léonore wistfully wishes that she had sooner known the delights of falling in love (‘Tendres plaisirs’) sets the scene of St Mark’s Square rather less than a pastoral scene straight out of a painting by Fragonard. A chorus of boatmen tenderly implore the Zephyrs who rule the waves to grant days of happiness, thus introducing a divertissement of attractive dances (including a delightful barcarolle). The first scenes of Act 2 contain orchestral passages of mock-serious storminess as the amorous Venetian nobleman Octave and his long-suffering valet Zerbin switch clothes in order to seek counsel from the sorceress Isménide; the fearful Zerbin drinks himself to sleep in an astonishingly gorgeous soft aria (‘Livrons-nous au sommeil’). It is incredible that these dissimilar operas were written by the same composer but each repays investigation.