Guelphs and Ghibellines, a plea for unity from the hero: but we are in Dante’s Florence rather than Simon Boccanegra’s Genoa. Orchestral and chamber music by Benjamin Godard has appeared on disc in recent years; his operas have not survived in the repertory and this is perhaps the first recording of any of them, though the Berceuse from Jocelyn is quite well known. Dante was staged at the Opéra-Comique in 1890, two years after the premiere of Jocelyn in Brussels. The poet, who is in love with Beatrice, the fiancée of his friend Simone Bardi, is elected leader of the city. Initially reluctant, he is persuaded to accept by Beatrice. Bardi’s suspicions are confirmed by Beatrice’s confidante Gemma, who – herself in love with Dante – tries without success to persuade him to renounce her. The jealous Bardi first reports that the King of France’s brother has banished Dante from Florence, then forces Beatrice to take the veil. Virgil appears to Dante in a dream, conjuring up visions of Hell and Paradise, in the latter of which the apparition of Beatrice assures him that they will be reunited. When Dante awakes, the remorseful Bardi takes him to Beatrice’s convent. The lovers are indeed reunited, but Beatrice dies; Dante swears to immortalise her.

Édouard Blau was an experienced author, having written or co-written several librettos including those for Lalo’s Le roi d’Ys and Massenet’s as yet unperformed Werther. His plotting of Dante is serviceable but he misses the opportunity of giving Bardi an air to express his change of heart: the renunciation of Beatrice is quite unprepared. Godard is cited as a French composer who resisted the pervasive influence of Wagner. True enough, on the evidence here, and the consequence is that you can have some fun spotting signs of other composers: Berlioz (Aeneas, Dido and Anna in Les Troyens), Verdi (but the mocking chorus in Act 2 recalls Il trovatore rather than Un ballo in maschera), Gounod (Faust’s ‘Laisse-moi contempler’). And the appearance of Paolo and Francesca in Dante’s dream is a reminder of the stock horror music for plays and silent films that was once to be found inside many a piano stool. But there is much that is strong and much that is beautiful. The rocking, syncopated accompaniment to Dante’s ‘Tout est fini’, the flutes illustrating Beatrice’s ‘Comme deux oiseaux’, the pastoral oboe as Dante awakes from his dream, and the vigorous Prelude to the convent scene, are just a few examples.

Edgaras Montvidas and Véronique Gens make a fine pair of lovers, their ardent duet in Act 2 being one of the high spots; a little earlier on, Jean-François Lapointe powerfully expresses Bardi’s political and powerful turmoil. There’s excellent support from Rachel Frenkel and Andrew Foster-Williams, and Ulf Schirmer directs his Bavarian forces with the zeal of a missionary.