Bruno Belthoise and Grégoire Pont are revitalizing the stories of French children’s ballets more than a century after their creation.

Florent Schmitt, photographed at about the time he composed the original piano duet version of Une Semaine du petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil. (ca. 1910 photo)

It’s interesting to note that four of the most important composers from France’s “Golden Age” each wrote music for ballet productions based on children’s topics. Not only that, the music for all four of them originated within a time-span of just three years. Chronologically, they are:

• Maurice Ravel’s Ma Mère l’oye (written in 1910 as a piano duet — then expanded, orchestrated and staged in 1911)
• Florent Schmitt’s Une Semaine du petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil (written in 1912 as a piano duet — then expanded, orchestrated and staged in 1924)
• Albert Roussel’s Le Festin de l’arraignée (written and staged in 1913)
• Claude Debussy’s La Boîte à joujoux (written for piano in 1913 — then orchestrated by André Caplet following the Debussy’s death and staged in 1919)

It’s safe to say that these ballets have enjoyed greater exposure in the recital and concert hall than they have as staged productions. Even so, their undeniable visual appeal continues to manifest itself in various ways, 100+ years after their initial stagings.

Grégoire Pont animations for Albert Roussel’s Le Festin de l’arraignée.

A case in point:  In January 2024, I attended a concert in Miami Beach played by the New World Symphony under the direction of French conductor Stéphane Denève that featured the complete music to Albert Roussel’s ballet Le Festin de l’arraignée (The Spider’s Feast), brought to life in the whimsical animations of the outstanding French dessinateur Grégoire Pont.

Grégoire Pont’s animations for Maurice Ravel’s Ma Mère l’oye.

In speaking with Mr. Pont following the concert, I was intrigued to find out that he has also prepared animations for Ravel’s ballet Ma Mère l’oye (Mother Goose), successfully presented in several European countries. He has done the same for Debussy’s ballet La Boîte à joujoux (The Toy-Box), too.

Visiting backstage at a January 2024 New World Symphony concert in Miami Beach featuring the music of Albert Roussel and Florent Schmitt — with Roussel’s ballet graced by the animations of Grégoire Pont. Pictured (l. to r.): tenor Rolando Polo, cellist Aaron Merritt, conductor Stéphane Denève, Phillip Nones, Grégoire Pont.

The cast for the premiere production of Debussy’s ballet La Boîte à joujoux (1919).

Moreover, Mr. Pont has expressed  interest in developing a similar animation treatment of Florent Schmitt’s ballet Le Petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil.

These whimsical works have inspired other artistic treatments as well. Among them is a new telling of the Ferme-l’oeil story utilizing Florent Schmitt’s original piano duet score. It is the brainchild of French pianist Bruno Belthoise, who has become intimately familiar with Schmitt’s suite over the past decade, performing the work in various European cities and commercially recording it twice.

And now Belthoise has made a third recording of the music, which is set for release in September 2024. This one is different, however, in that it alters and expands on the original Hans Christian Andersen tale to create a new musical adventure that is at once modern and timeless.

The soon-to-be-released recording, which also includes an updated version of another Hans Christian Andersen story (The Little Match Girl), features several narrators in addition to the music which is performed by Belthoise, his piano duet partner João Costa Ferreira, plus cellist Clara Belthoise Josse.

The new Belthoise recording, set for release in September 2024.

Recently I had the opportunity to visit with Bruno Belthoise about this new recording project and how it came together. Highlights of our discussion are presented below. (Note: Mr. Belthoise’s comments have been translated from French into English.)

PLN:  Please describe briefly the genesis of this recording project, as well as the inspiration behind it.

Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)

BB:  This project has had a pretty long gestation, being first envisioned about a decade ago. My love for narration and children’s stories, combined with my keen interest in the music of Florent Schmitt, helped me perceive new potential for combining the tale of Hans Christian Andersen with Schmitt’s flamboyant piano duet music. 

Acting on this inspiration, I co-wrote a new narrative version — more contemporary but closely based on Andersen’s original text. I was able to perform it in a number of “narrative concerts” for young audiences in 2013 and 2014, working with different narrators and in different languages (English, Portuguese and French). After successfully trialing the version in public in this way, it remained to find the opportunity for a discographic production, which has happily now come to fruition.

PLN:  Your adaptation of Une Semaine du petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil changes the plot line of the original 1912 piano suite – as well as the ballet story of the Sandman-like fairy that Schmitt prepared for the Paris Opéra-Comique stage in the early 1920s. What was the reasoning behind making those changes?

BB:  Rewriting of the original text does change the organization of the action, but this was necessary to modernize and further present the story in a compelling way. Andersen was a magnificent inventor of tales, but his grammatical language belongs to 19th century forms which are difficult to use today if we wish to successfully speak to today’s young audiences. 

The “orientalist” décor and costumes prepared by André Hellé for the 1924 Paris Opéra-Comique premiere production of Florent Schmitt’s ballet Le Petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil.

This particular tale, considered by Andersen himself as one of the most “variegated” that he created, is dominated by fantasy, descriptive richness, and vivid sensations. Each evening of the week the little elf — the Danish Sandman — appears to the child Hialmar to tell him enchanting and fantastic stories. With his magic umbrella, the elf transforms each of the stories into living dreams.

Discussing Florent Schmitt’s “orientalist” compositions with Bruno Belthoise at a very appropriate venue: the Aux porte de l’Orient restaurant at La Mosquée de Paris. (May 2022 photo)

Andersen had the ability to conjure up a marvelous and dreamlike universe where nature is, in effect, personified and magnified. Its structure — a framing narrative with seven discrete and essentially unconnected stories within it — allowed Andersen to address, with a mixture of seriousness and humor, various elemental themes that were dear to him including courage, journeying, nature, exploring the unknown, sickness, fear and so forth.

All of these elements create conditions that justify the use of new descriptions and colors — to introduce more poetry and humor mainly inspired by the music itself. In so doing, each of the different days of the week has a specific story that is different and distinct from the stories of the other days. 

Likewise, Florent Schmitt didn’t create a musical leitmotif or cyclical motif to run through the seven different pieces. Even so, the musical riches of the score are particularly evocative. For reasons of ensuring musical balance with the text — and also to support certain contrasts in the evolution of the different days — I opted for a re-organization of the order of the music, even while keeping the subjects and the overarching inspiration linked to Andersen’s original themes and messages which were, of course, the inspiration and source of the composer’s music.

PLN:  The Little Match Girl makes for an interesting companion on the recording. How did the decision to include that story come about?

Patrick Freméaux (l.) and Claude Colombini (r.), the founders of Freméaux & Associés, pictured with Luc Ferry, French philosopher, essayist and politician. (2008 photo)

BB:  The producer of this album —  Frémeaux & Associés — has developed an important “youth” catalogue in French. Since 1997, I had already designed and recorded three previous youth-oriented CDs with this same publisher. When I came to present the Schmitt/Andersen project, the interest of Patrick Frémeaux and Claude Colombini was immediate and enthusiastic. 

Hans Christian Andersen’s tale of The Little Match Girl, first published in the Danish People’s Calendar of 1846, is heartrending: On a freezing New Year’s Eve, a poor young girl, shivering and barefoot, unsuccessfully attempts to sell matches on the street. Afraid to go home because her father would beat her for failing to sell any matches nor earning even a single penny, she huddles in an alley and lights the matches, one by one, to warm herself. In the flame of the matches, she sees a series of comforting visions — a warm stove, a lovely roasted goose, and a beautiful Christmas tree. Each vision disappears as its match burns out. Then in the sky she sees a shooting star, which her late grandmother had told her meant that someone is on their way to Heaven. In the flame of the next match she sees her grandmother, the only person who ever treated her with love and kindness. To keep the vision of her grandmother alive as long as possible, the girl lights the entire bundle of her remaining matches. When they are gone, she freezes to death in the frigid temperatures. The next morning, passers-by discover the girl’s body. They express pity, for they do not realize the wonderful visions she had seen — nor how happy she is with her grandmother now.

However, Une Semaine du petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil with its Sandman-like fairy isn’t one of Andersen’s better-known stories. Moreover, the timing of that selection (fewer than 50 minutes) would make it too short for a commercial album. We therefore chose to add the well-known tale of La Petite fille aux allumettes [The Little Match Girl] by Hans Christian Andersen – lasting approximately 10 minutes – while also creating a new narrative text and music for it. 

For the musical portion of this selection, my daughter, Clara Belthoise Josse who is a cellist, has written original music for solo cello which I find very expressive, and which is masterfully interwoven with the story’s narration.

The back cover of the new CD, sheduled for release in September 2024.

PLN: Indeed, the production of this recording seems in many ways to be a “family affair.” Can you describe their contributions to the project?

Béatrice Belthoise has had a notable half-century career in the dramatic arts. (2023 photo)

BB:  In developing this narrative project, from the very beginning I envisioned that the main narration, which is quite significant, should be provided by a female voice. So I naturally called on my aunt, Béatrice Belthoise, who is a noted theater and film actress and narrator. It was a great pleasure to propose this project to her, because it was with her that I conceived the development of the first three albums for young audiences, for which I am both the pianist and narrator. 

Clara Belthoise Josse. The musician is also accomplished in theatre and set design, painting and sculpting.

The writing of the story offers the possibility, alongside the main narration, of making the voices of Ferme-l’oeil (myself) and that of little Hialmar (Clara Belthoise Josse) heard. It turned out to be exciting to work with family members in this way, involving three generations of artistic talent.

PLN:  Florent Schmitt’s score is written for piano duet, and you are joined by pianist João Costa Ferreira on this recording. Had you collaborated with him on other projects before this one?

The double-CD recording featuring French and Portuguese music for piano duet (Coriolan label, 2022).

BB:  Indeed yes!  João Costa Ferreira is one of the most talented pianists of the new generation. He is also a researcher who prepared his doctoral thesis on the important Portuguese composer José Vianna da Motta, born in 1868 — and he is perhaps the world’s foremost specialist on Motta and his music.

Our four-hand piano duo was established in 2016 and João is my most regular partner. Together we have premiered numerous new works. We’ve recorded a double album of piano four-hand music and performd concerts featuring French piano repertoire (Bizet, Fauré,  Saint-Saëns, Schmitt, etc.), as well as Portuguese piano repertoire for which I am also a committed advocate. 

Bruno Belthoise (l.) and João Costa Ferreira, photographed in Paris.

Our recording of Florent Schmitt’s original 1912 Petit elfe suite was made in Lisbon by the engineers of RTP-ANTENA 2 and released in 2017. For the creation of this latest recording with Andersen’s updated tale, we decided “go beyond” Schmitt’s original score to build on the original motifs, enabling us to create additional musical material supporting the narration and adding to the “rhythm and pulse” of the storyline.

The result of this musical extrapolation contributes lively and enhanced coloration to the story. It also allows for natural interplay between text and music, such that the narration and evocative imagery interact both symbiotically and elegantly.

PLN:  Florent Schmitt’s Une Semaine du petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil is a piano suite that you have presented in recital numerous times over the years. How did you first discover the score? What qualities give the music its special appeal?

BB:  Schmitt’s score came into my hands quite by chance sometime after 2005, although I was already acquainted with — and particularly attracted to — Schmitt’s great symphonic works. When I first encountered this score, I was particularly struck by the originality of the musical content, the incredible quality of the four-hand piano writing, and the sophistication of the harmonies. In additiona, this 1912 work immediately made me think of Ravel’s Ma Mère l’oye — particularly in the common “oriental” inspirations.

An inscribed copy of the original edition of Florent Schmitt’s piano duet composition Une Semaine du petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil, composed in 1912.

Florent Schmitt, photographed with his son Jean in the gardens of the family home in St-Cloud. Schmitt wrote several didactic piano solo and duet scores that he dedicated to his son. (ca. 1920 photo)

Schmitt’s score was composed for his students and for his son Jean. He wrote the prima part such that students would never need to move their fingers away from the starting position.  But this constraint never limits Schmitt’s creativity — indeed, quite the contrary!

As for the seconda part, doubtless intended to be played by the teacher, it turns out to be very rich on a harmonic level. The ensemble of four hands — which skillfully complement each other — results in extremely original music,  nevertheless requiring “know-how” that’s often very demanding from a technical perspective. 

Pianists Claude Maillols and Bruno Belthoise perform Florent Schmitt’s Une Semaine du petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil at the Schola Cantorum in Paris (2013).

I had the chance to perform this work for the first time with the pianist António Rosado at the Alcobaça festival in Portugal, recorded at the time by Lisbon National Radio. Subsequently I performed the suite with pianists Christina Margotto, the late Claude Maillols, and lastly with João Costa Ferreira (the second recording done by the National Radio of Lisbon). And now João and I are collaborating in this latest recording as well.

PLN:  Is the primary target audience for this new recording young children, or broader than that? Might adults also find this recording of interest?

BB:  The target audience is primarily children aged five or six and over. But to me it’s quite obvious that the qualities of the music — and of the text — are quite interesting for adults as well. It should be remembered that Andersen’s tales often go beyond the scope of children’s readership due to the universality of his subject matter. Indeed, like the fables of Aesop and Jean de la Fontaine, they are part of the world’s rich literary and artistic heritage. (Schmitt’s music is as well, I might add.) 

I would also note that our version of The Little Match Girl is particularly moving for an adult audience, who will rediscover a tale that is both famous and very sorrowful – and yet presented in a way that differs dramatically from any other previous version.

PLN:  Are there plans to present these two programs as live productions, including narration and staging?

BB:  Absolutely. The CD will be available starting in September 2024, and we are already planning for a concert presentation at the end of 2024 or the beginning of 2025 to be done at the Maison de l’Ile-de-France [Cité Internationale Universitaire de Paris].

PLN:  In closing, is there anything else you would like to mention about this project?

Beétrice Belthoise, photographed in 1962 at the start of her career as a stage actress.

BB:  It has been a joy for all of us to see the project through to its conclusion. Making an album such as this requires extensive work on many levels. You have to weigh each word, then work very precisely on the editing, the rhythmic and sonic balances. You must be faithful to the spirit of the story but also to show imagination.

By publishing this album at Frémeaux & Associés, this achievement will become that of a true “sound heritage” in every sense of the term. Indeed, we hope that the recording will be appreciated for its musical and narrative qualities by the widest possible audience.

___________________

We look forward to hearing the new recording of these two Hans Christian Andersen tales when the disc is released in September 2024. The album will be available soon for pre-order at the Frémeaux & Associés website (www.fremeaux.com). It will also be available for purchase from FNAC and other online music retailers.

The Charente summer home of soprano Marthe Bailloux and her military husband yields a trove of noteworthy artifacts from France’s “Golden Age” of art and music.

The onetime summer home of the Bailloux family — soprano Marthe and her military husband Pierre — located in Courcôme (Charente Department), France. (Photo: Alistair Kendry, 2023)

Sometimes the most incredible adventures are put in motion purely by happenstance. This is certainly the case with Alistair Kendry and Mary Fisher, two English creative artists who decided to trade their native Britain for provincial France and embark on the next phase of their personal and professional lives.

Alistair Kendry is a visual artist who studied at the Slade School of Fine Art in London in the 1980s. Today he focuses on creating large contemporary gold-leaf paintings that also feature mixed media collage elements. Kendry also served as head of the art department at an educational institution in the UK before retiring and moving to provincial France.

Kendry’s partner, Mary Fisher, worked for 25 years at the Royal Opera House-Covent Garden in London as a supervisor in its costume department, where she created outfits and worked with renowned singers such as Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo and Angela Gheorghiu.  Today Fisher continues her work in France as an independent costume and handbag designer.

Col. Pierre-Augustin Bailloux and his wife, soprano Marthe Moreau Bailloux, pictured at the garden gate of their summer home in Courcôme, France in about 1940. (Photo: Courtesy of Marie-Noël Westerman)

The attraction of provincial France was practical as well as personal, enabling the couple to continue their artistic pursuits in more bucolic surroundings — with a concurrent eye on economizing. This is what brought the couple to the Charente region of France – and more particularly to the summer home in Courcôme of Col. Pierre Bailloux and his soprano singer wife, Marthe Bailloux.

I came into contact with Alistair Kendry when he got in touch with me after reading an article published on the Florent Schmitt Website + Blog about the Schmitt’s Poèmes des lacs.  As it turned out, there was a direct connection between those mélodies and the incredible story Kendry was about to tell me …

And indeed, what I heard from him was nothing short of amazing – the existence of a treasure trove of history bound up in a family property that had lain dormant for many years. I quickly realized that this was a story that needed to be told. After generously agreeing to an interview, what Alistair Kendry proceeded to tell me is presented below.

PLN:  How did the Bailloux summer home come into your possession?

ACK:  Beginning around 2016, my partner, Mary Fisher, and I had been looking for a property in the Charente region in France. We had a dream of being able to retire and make our work there – including my gold-leaf abstract paintings and Mary’s work designing and making costumes and handbags.

Mary and a friend were the ones who looked at the house at a time when I was back in the UK. As the listing price was very attractive and the estate agent had reported that another interested party was about to close on the property, Mary made a quick decision to purchase it. It was her understanding that the house and barn had been vacant for about ten years, before which it had been the summer home of several generations of the Bailloux family. 

In describing the property, Mary assured me that there was an ideal outbuilding – a barn – that would make for a fine studio space for my artwork (which, sadly, we established later wouldn’t be suitable as the lighting was so poor). Even so, the barn remains a fascinating structure; it probably dates from the 15^th century and has amazing timber beams. Other clues as to the age of the structure were the medieval parts of shoes found in some of the walls – presumably placed there to ward off evil spirits. We even came across a dead cat carcass that may well date from the 16^th century! 

I got round to seeing the house only in 2018. The property had a magnificent garden in addition to the main house and medieval barn. The main house seemed to be in a time warp – seemingly untouched for decades.  All the contents of the home had been left and came with the sale – everything including furniture, beds, carpets, clothes, books, pictures and ephemera.

PLN:  Being confronted with so much in the way of contents must have seemed overwhelming …

ACK:  It was!  It took many weeks and months just to begin the process of sorting and processing everything. But the vast loft space of the house was the biggest challenge; it was like opening Tutankhamen’s tomb! At first we didn’t really wish to venture in, as there was so much dust and so many cobwebs, beyond which we could see furniture, prams, clothing, and … chaos.

André Gill (1840-1885). The French caricaturist’s first magazine, La Lune, was forced to close in December 1867 after Emperor Napoleon III disliked a portrait of him drawn by Gill.

The loft turned out to be filled with so many other things, too — including wartime wireless sets, French newspapers and magazines. There were hundreds of copies of the magazine Illustration, dating from the 1920s to the 1940s. We also discovered an amazing collection of newspapers featuring caricatures drawn by André Gill – firstly in La Lune from the 1860s and later Eclipse from the 1870s. The caricaturist was friendly with Manet and Courbet. His periodicals poked fun without fear or favor, and in general expressed the satirical sentiments of the day. Prominent personalities graced the covers of the magazines, and we have beautiful copies with brilliantly colored cover portraits of these men and women that surely should be framed and displayed. 

There was also a large collection of prints and lithographs created by Salon artists that we found in the loft – some very important — which I’m still researching. 

Nineteenth century bonnets and undergarments worn by female servents, found in a trunk in the loft of the Bailloux home. (Photo: Alistair Kendry, 2019)

I should also mention the huge trunk filled with undergarments – 19^th century female bodice shirts and blouses — plus an amazing collection of caps and bonnets. We figure that they had belonged to the staff working for the family in the house. Many of the garments had initials sewn on, presumably so they could be sorted out easily in the lavoir/washing area.

PLN:  You haven’t mentioned music-related artifacts yet. Considering that Marthe Bailloux, mistress of the house, was a professional singer, there must have been some of that as well …

ACK:  At first, I had no idea that any scores and related music documents were here in the house, but Mary had informed me that she’d found what appeared to be some old music scores in a large chest in the loft. As it turned out, there were other scores tucked away in the house as well, left in bookcases and cupboards. 

We expected that the scores were of no particular significance, figuring they’d be old sheet music such that one commonly finds at charity shops or boot sales. Mary’s idea was to donate them to a local choir rather than to throw them out, but as soon as I started looking at the scores, immediately I recognized that they were important — especially as many had inscriptions on them and a few were even in manuscript form.  

Music scores found in trunks in the loft of the Bailloux home. Additional scores were found in bookcases and cupboards. (Photo: Alistair Kendry, 2019)

It turned out that there were so many scores, it took me a few years to properly sort through them all. Some of them were faded or shopworn, some others riddled with woodworm while others appeared to be nibbled at, possibly by field mice or silverfish. But others were in excellent condition. 

It turns out that this was the lost archive of a soprano artist active at the highest echelons of French classical musical life during the 1920s-40s, including scores by female and other now-forgotten composers. It appeared that the scores had been organized into groupings of the alphabet based by composer, but a lot of that had gotten muddled up over the years. I decided to inspect and carefully place each score into plastic sleeve folder portfolios to prevent further deterioration or damage.

PLN:  I take it that neither you nor Mary are professional musicians. What led you to understand the value of the artifacts that you were uncovering?

ACK:  It is true that neither of us are musicians, but music runs in our families. My father was a brass and wind band player, and a good amateur conductor as well. He also loved classical music and opera, introducing me to Rossini, Puccini, Mahler, Shostakovich and other composers. Also, as a young teenager I had played in brass bands for a while, so I was aware of music scores. 

Mary’s mother, now 97 years old, had studied music at the Royal Academy – clarinet and piano – and Mary had played the flute in her youth. So we both have an appreciation for classical music and could realize the importance of what we had discovered.

PLN:  To get a flavor of the Bailloux collection of scores, what are some of the more notable items that you found?

ACK:  There are so many scores – almost too many to list. Some of the better-known composers include Franck, Gounod, Debussy, Ravel, Faure, Dukas, Florent Schmitt, Albert Roussel, Charles Koechlin, Olivier Messiaen, Paul Paray, Louis Aubert, Jacques Ibert, Alexandre Tcherepnin, André Messager, Manuel De Falla and Cécile Chaminade. 

Lesser-known composers’ scores include Henri Büsser, Reynaldo Hahn, Jean Clergue, Sylvio Lazzari, Elsa Barraine, Alice Sauviezis, José Antonio Donastria, René Challan, André Marchal, Pierre Nau, Augusta Holmès, Charles Levade, Renato Cairone, Charles Pons, the composer-conductor Rhené-Baton, and others. 

A French composer of Italian and Austro-Hungarian origin, Sylvio Lazzari (1857-1944) served for many years as president of the Wagner Society in Paris. His 1912 opera Le Lépreux, based on a Breton plotline, utilized Breton folksongs as coloristic elements.

One Messiaen score – hand-signed to Marthe Bailloux – dates from 1937 and is titled Chants de terre et ciel. Another Messiaen score inscribed by the composer is his Vocalise-etude of 1935. Another one inscribed to her is the score to the opera Le Lépreux [The Leper] by Sylvio Lazzari, which is interesting because we don’t believe that Marthe Bailloux sang in opera. Perhaps the composer was hoping to interest her in this work! 

Several of the scores are in manuscript form, including ones by Koechlin and Barraine.

PLN:  Specifically pertaining to Florent Schmitt, what items did you find?

ACK:  We found scores for several of the pieces that make up the Poèmes des lacs – specifically Musique sur l’eau, Demande, Tristesse au jardin and Les Barques. Several of these are inscribed to Marthe Bailloux by the composer.

Marthe Bailloux’s well-worn copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Musique sur l’eau.

Marthe Bailloux’s copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Demande — sur le lac du Bourgat.

There is also the score to Kérob-Shal, which apparently she performed with Florent Schmitt in Paris in the 1930s (we gather this from a letter written by Schmitt to Bailloux that was found in the house as well).

Florent Schmitt’s letter to Marthe Bailloux, dated March 27, 1935, discusses Mme. Bailloux’s planned performances in Paris of Demande and Tristesse au jardin, two of the pieces that make up Schmitt’s Poèmes des lacs. The letter also refers to an upcoming Bailloux performance of Schmitt’s Kérob-Shal — likely with the composer at the keyboard.

PLN:  Do you think that Florent Schmitt and Marthe Bailloux were personally acquainted?

Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992)

ACK:  I think that they were. The letter we have seems to indicate that — although it doesn’t appear that they were particularly close friends or colleagues. As to which of composers Bailloux seems to have known most intimately, the most notable would probably be Koechlin and Messiaen, although we have numerous other scores inscribed to her by many others, too.

PLN:  What other interesting items pertaining to Mme. Bailloux did you find left in the house?

This bust of Marthe Bailloux was cast in plaster by the sculptor Gheorghe Anghel (1904-1966). Born in Romania, Anghel studied, lived and worked in France from 1924 to 1937. The first solo exhibition of his work was in Paris in 1940. Most of Anghel’s output was in bronze, although his bust of the Romanian composer Georges Enescu was rendered in stone. The bust of Marthe Bailloux was discovered at the family’s home in Courcôme following the sale of the property. (Photo: Alistair Kendry, 2023)

ACK:  We found some dresses from the 1920s and 1930s that were possibly Madame’s, plus handbags and numerous other personal items. We also discovered two oil paintings by her which appear to date from the first two decades of the 20^th century, when Marthe Bailloux would have been in her twenties. They are very good; we had both of them cleaned, and one hangs in the house today. 

We also came across a pastel drawing of Marthe Bailloux from the 1940s, along with a notable plaster bust of her made by the renowned Romanian sculptor Gheorghe Anghel. This artist is sufficiently esteemed to have a museum in Bucharest that is exclusively dedicated to his creative output.

PLN:  Marthe Beilloux’s life and career doesn’t appear to be well-documented in French books on music history. Have you been able to learn more about her life and career accomplishments through your own research?

ACK:  It is true the Marthe Bailloux merits only a few lines in several reference books. But from what we were finding in the house, it seemed that she was much more than this — indeed, a prominent and highly regarded singer. Curious to learn more, I was able to track down her only surviving grandchild, Marie-Noël Westerman, who was born in 1936 and lives in Paris today. 

A photo portrait of Marthe Moreau as a young girl in Ruffec, France. (Photo: Courtesy of Marie-Noël Westerman)

From this granddaughter, I was able to learn that Marthe Bailloux was born Marthe Moreau in Ruffec, France – in the Charente department — in 1894. She married Pierre Bailloux in 1919 in Courcôme (the town is less than ten kilometers from Ruffec), and subsequently accompanied him to his military postings in Rennes, Paris, Bordeaux, Vichy, and lastly Germany following World War II.

From my understanding, Col. Bailloux had distinguished himself on the front lines as a captain during World War I, being named to the Legion l’honneur as a result in addition to being highly decorated for his military service.

A Bailloux family portrait from about 1927, including young daughters Jacqueline and Pierrette. (Photo: Courtesy of Marie-Noël Westerman)

Wedding days at Courcôme. The two Bailloux daughters were married there just two weeks apart in February 1946. (Image: Courtesy of Marie-Noël Westerman)

The couple had two daughters in the 1920s – Pierrette and Jacqueline. Both daughters married their respective spouses just two weeks apart at the Courcôme property in February 1946. Jacqueline and her husband, Jean Babaud, were the last owners of the property before Mary and I purchased it. 

Mme. Westermann was unable to provide much information about Marthe Bailloux’s musical studies, but there is evidence that she studied singing with Jean Suscinio in Brittany and also studied in Rennes. Other documents indicate that she had further music study in Paris – although not at the Paris Conservatoire officially. 

The couple had settled in Paris following their wedding and resided in a rather grand 16^th arr. apartment on Rue Debrousse near the Eiffel Tower. Recital posters from this period identify Marthe Bailloux as “soloist of the Grands Concerts de Paris” with a voice described as a “dramatic soprano.” Apparently she didn’t sing in opera, choosing to focus instead on a recital and concert career.

Program posters from 1926 (r.) and 1934 (l.) featuring soprano Marthe Bailloux. (Click on the image for a larger view.) (Image: Courtesy of Alistair Kendry)

Marthe Bailloux, photographed with composer Charles Koechlin in Paris in 1938. Koechlin and Bailloux forged a particularly fruitful artistic relationship. (Photo: Courtesy of Marie-Noël Westerman)

While she did sing the classical repertoire, looking at Bailloux’s programs reveals that she was perhaps most active as an interpreter of contemporary music, presenting mélodies and other works by composers such as Ravel, Roussel, Schmitt, Koechlin and Messiaen. Often she would be accompanied in these performances by the composers themselves. 

These words of critical praise for Mme. Bailloux’s artistry appeared in a Parisian program booklet in 1935.

A 1936 concert program performed at the Salle Gaveau under the direction of Désiré-Émile Inghelbrecht featured works by several modern composers including Charles Koechlin and Florent Schmitt. Marthe Bailloux was the soloist in the Koechlin mélodies. The all-French program was broadcast via radio throughout the country. (Image: Courtesy of Alistair Kendry)

Alongside her recital and concert appearances, Bailloux sang on French National Radio during the 1930s. It appears that her performance bookings aligned geographically to a large degree with the professional activities of her husband, in lieu of undertaking a touring schedule separate from the locales of his military appointments. In this regard, we find that she sang in private salons and municipal halls in various provincial regions of France such as Charente, Brittany and Vichy, in addition to singing at various venues in Paris like the Salle Pleyel and Salle Gaveau. 

She also sang at the famous Hotel Majestic in Paris – nowadays known as The Peninsula Paris hotel. 

The Peninsula Paris hotel has quite a history. Opening in 1908 as the Hotel Majestic, it was one of the most exclusive hotels in Paris until it was converted to government offices in 1936. During World War II the building was requisitioned by German authorities as headquarters of the military high command in France during the occupation of Paris. In the postwar period, the Majestic served as the first headquarters of UNESCO until 1958, when it was converted into a conference center for the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Vietnan War-era Paris Peace Accords were negotiated and signed at the building in 1991. More than a century after its first incarnation as a luxury hotel, the property reopened in 2014 as The Peninsula Paris, following an extensive rebuilding and remodeling  project that spared no expense.

A ticket from the December 1930 Hotel Majestic concert in which Marthe Bailloux was the featured artist. (Image: Courtesy of Alistair Kendry)

From what we know, Marthe Bailloux’s late-career activities as a singer were in Germany, where her husband had been sent with the French occupation army in the Palatinate region (Neustadt, Baden-Baden and Trier) in 1945. She participated in the social life of the delegation, teaming up with several musician wives of French soldiers to organize private musical evenings as well as several vocal recitals in Baden-Baden and Göttingen. The couple lived in Germany until 1950, at which time Pierre Bailloux retired from the military.

PLN:  Despite not being involved in opera, it seems that Marthe Bailloux enjoyed an interesting career that included circulating in the most prominent musical circles. What do you know about her life after 1950?

ACK:  From Marie-Noël Westermann we’ve learned that the couple lived in Paris most of the time following Pierre Bailloux’s retirement, which is where both daughters had settled once they were married. This gave Marthe Bailloux the opportunity to maintain Parisian musical and personal friendships and to attend concerts, while also enjoying a fulfilling life with extended family.

One of the singer’s great traits was showing generosity to her musician friends. An example is the pianist and music critic Camille Soulier; Marthe offered her own room in Paris to care for Soulier during her last months of life. 

But in addition to Paris, the house in the Charente region figured prominently in the couple’s final years. In the spring and summer months they would stay in Courcôme, which was also home to cousins and other relatives. They were devoted to the region and participated in a variety of initiatives to conserve the heritage of Courcôme – the church and cemetery chapel in particular — as well as managing some family agricultural properties inherited from ancestors and entrusted to sharecroppers in Charente and Deux-Sèvres. 

The ancient chapel at the cemetery in Courcôme, France.

Col. Bailloux passed away in April 1978 as a result of complications from a fall. As it turned out, his wife survived him by fewer than six months, dying of acute kidney failure in October. They and their closest family members – ancestors and descendants — are buried in the Courcôme cemetery. These days, none of their eleven great-grandchildren live in the vicinity – instead residing the Paris region and in Annecy (Haute-Savoie).

PLN:  You mention Vichy as one of the places where Marthe Bailloux and her husband were active. Was the Colonel involved with the Vichy government during World War II?

Following the armistice of June 22, 1940, the German zone of occupation in France split the Charente Department in two, with Ruffec and Courcôme falling in the German zone. (Click on the image for a larger view.)

ACK:  That is an interesting question, and indeed it may be so. We found it curious to discover some Vichy government pamphlets in the house, as well as a number of documents printed on stationery bearing the Vichy cross. We also came across a framed photograph of Marshall Philippe Pétain that had been stored the loft. 

Then we heard some reports that the property had housed German officials of the Berlin Opera House during the early 1940s. Apparently, Marthe Bailloux had admonished the officers for not wearing their ties upon entering the house — and she also upbraided them for playing the piano too loudly at night. 

Marthe Bailloux, photographed in the 1940s. (Photo: Courtesy of Marie-Noël Westerman)

Hearing these anecdotes, I decided to do my own research, whereupon I discovered Col. Bailloux’s name in American records, listed as being on the staff of the Vichy government during the years 1942-43 as a commerce secretary pertaining to textiles. A lowly capacity to be sure, but it raises the possibility that these associations – official or unofficial — may have affected the couple’s image following the war. I also wonder if this may have played a role in Marthe Bailloux’s lack of presence in French books on modern music history and performers. 

In this regard, it is also interesting to note that we were visited several years ago by one of the great-grandchildren who wished to see the property. During his visit the young man said in passing, “It’s all the past … ”

PLN:  Now that these fascinating artifacts have seen the light of day after so many decades of being hidden away, what plans do you have for them besides displaying some of them in the house?

ACK:  Up to this point, most of the work has gone into sorting through all of the scores and other documents. Clearly some of them have significant historical importance – particularly the items that are inscribed by composers or other noted personalities. We were pleased to find out that the two Messiaen signed scores found in the house – Vocalise and Chants de terre et de ciel — were going to be performed at the Aldeburgh Festival this year. We’ve offered to provide those signed scores for display at the festival. 

This Jeune France program from 1941 featured Marthe Bailloux singing several works by Olivier Messiaen, with the composer participating as pianist. The soprano also presented works by André Thiriet, Pierre Auclert and Daniel-Lesur with the respective composers at the piano. (Click on the image for a larger view.) (Image: Courtesy of Alistair Kendry)

Beyond the music scores, some of the artwork and prints are suitable for displaying, and with that in mind we have already begun to mount and frame the best of them according to museum-quality standards. 

We have also been working on renovating the main house and the barn structure, which has turned into a multi-year effort. Most of the rooms have now been refurbished, and we have decorated them with many of the artifacts found in the house. Mary is using the loft as her textiles atelier. 

Mary Fisher and Alistair Kendry, photographed at their gallery space in Verteuil, France.

Mary and I also maintain a small gallery in the beautiful village of Verteuil, located about five kilometers away. We envision that location not only as a venue to exhibit my own artwork, but also as a potential small performance space. In the same vein, we see the restored music salon in the Bailloux house as an ideal location for hosting intimate musical events. 

The restored music salon at Bailloux house in Courcôme (Charente Department), France. (Photo: Alistair Kendry, 2023)

Even more expansively, the thought has crossed our minds that some sort of periodic mini-music festival could be put together, with Marthe Bailloux as the central figure and where some of the music scores from the home could be performed – particularly ones that are rarely done in the present day such as the Poèmes des lacs of Florent Schmitt. Such events could be very appealing to a cultured audience attuned to such things — not merely for the music, but also for the beautiful historic village, incredible chateau and stunning 11^th century Romanesque Chapel of Civray. The entire Charente region is quite enchanting.

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We are thankful to Alistair Kendry and Mary Fisher for electing to preserve the musical legacy of soprano Marthe Bailloux at her family’s country home. In the hands of owners less attuned to the historical importance of the artifacts that came with the sale of the property, much of this legacy could easily have been scattered or even destroyed. Instead, we are enriched by being able to glimpse into the past — and to understand better the fascinating musical world of those days.

Four orchestral works spanning Florent Schmitt’s lengthy compositional career are part of the 2024-25 international concert season.

Marc Taddei

For the upcoming 2024-25 concert season, the popularity of Florent Schmitt’s ballet La Tragédie de Salomé (1907-10) continues on its upward trajectory — a trend that sees no signs of abating. One of them will be the first-ever performance of this work in New Zealand, offered by Orchestra Wellington under the direction of the American-born conductor Marc Taddei.

Fabien Gabel (2022 photo)

French conductor Fabien Gabel continues his committed advocacy for the Salomé score by presenting the piece with the Orquesta Sinfónica de Castilla y León in Spain.

Also being programmed this season is a composition from the same period as Schmitt’s Salomé — his Lied et scherzo (1910) — which will be presented by members of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra.

Selina Ott (Photo: Matthias Kernstock)

Late-career Florent Schmitt will be represented by the composer’s Suite en trois parties for trumpet and orchestra (1955). Håkan Hardenberger has been a major proponent of this music, performing (and recording) the piece in recent years. This season, however, internationally-famed trumpet soloist Selina Ott will do the honors, presenting the work as part of a New Year’s concert offered by the Amsterdam Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Lio Kuokman.

Lio Kuokman

And Schmtit’s earliest period of creativity is represented as well, in a performance of his Soirs (1890-96), a work originally penned for piano and subsequently orchestrated by the composer. Soirs will be played by the Orchestre Classique de Montréal under the direction of Jacques Lacombe — the first time since 2009 that the orchestral version of this piece has been performed in Canada.

Jacques Lacombe

The upcoming concert season provides variety for Schmittians around the world to make their plans to attend the events. Listed below are details on the upcoming performances, including links to additional information and to acquire tickets.

(Note: More concerts are likely to be announced in the coming weeks, and this listing  will be updated accordingly.)

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September 28, 2024

Schmitt: La Tragédie de Salomé, Op. 50 (1907/10)

Boulanger: D’un soir triste

Debussy: Prélude a l’après-midi d’un faune

Ravel: Concerto in D Minor for Piano Left-Hand & Orchestra

Orchestra Wellington; Marc Taddei, conductor

The Tudor Consort

Jian Liu, pianist

The French composer played a major role over four decades as both a host and a participant in Paris’ salon culture.

The house and gardens of Florent Schmitt in St-Cloud were the venue for countless Jeudis de Florent Schmitt open house events held from the 1920s to the 1950s. (ca. 1956 photo)

We know from history that in addition to being a composer and music critic, Florent Schmitt was a salonnier. From the 1920s on, he and his wife Jeanne hosted regular Thursday afternoon open house events in the gardens of their home in St-Cloud. These gatherings would continue even after the death of Schmitt’s wife — all the way up until the mid-1950s, in fact.

These so-called Jeudis de Florent Schmitt events were important for musical Paris, providing a venue where famous and not-so-famous musicians and other cultural personages could gather and interact. From time to time, significant artistic collaborations resulted from these gatherings and interactions. I’ve written a full article about the Florent Schmitt Thursdays, and you can read about them here.

The score to L’Eventail de Jeanne. This 1927 ballet was a collaborative effort by ten French composers including Florent Schmitt that came about as a direct result of the salon gatherings of Parisian educator and arts patron Jeanne Dubost. Details on the fascinating “back story” of this ballet are covered in this article.

The house and gardens of Florent Schmitt in St-Cloud, France. (ca. 1950 photo)

Schmitt’s open house events were somewhat unusual in that they weren’t organized by a solo host, but rather by a couple. While we encounter other instances of couples as salon hosts – Cipa Godebski with Zofia Servais plus William and Ida Molard spring to mind – in most cases salons were hosted by women, with any husbands that might be present remaining discreetly in the background.

Cyprien Xavier Léonard ‘Cipa’ Godebski (1875-1937), was a French salonnier of Polish origin. He was the son of sculptor Cyprien Godebski as well as the half-brother of pianist Misia Sert. Godebski was a member of Les Apaches along with Florent Schmitt, Maurice Ravel and other young luminaries of artistic Paris. They would meet at the salon of Cipa Godebski and Zofia Servais on rue Saint-Florentin, later at rue de Chartres, and lastly at rue d’Athènes. The Godebskis’ young children Jean and Mimi were the dedicatees of Ravel’s piano duet suite Ma mère l’oye. (1896 portrait by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.)

In addition to being a salonnier, Florent Schmitt was an active attendee who was a regular guest at a number of Parisian salon venues – including some with a distinctly literary bent.

[One of the hallmarks of Parisian salons was that while each may have had its own particular focus, often they embraced multiple facets of culture – literary, visual arts, musical or otherwise. At the typical Parisian salon in the 1920s and 1930s, it wouldn’t be uncommon to find painters rubbing elbows with politicians – or philosophers with philologists.]

Evangeline Bell Bruce (1914-1995). The society hostess and author lived in a dozen countries and spoke six languages. She was married to Baltimore-born David Kirkpatrick Este Bruce, who served as U.S. ambassador to France in 1949-51 and later was U.S. ambassador to NATO in the mid-1970s. Evangeline Bruce’s Georgetown salon was a fixture of Washington, DC society for decades, being described as “at once properly old-fashioned and glitteringly up-to-the-minute.” Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis once sent Evangeline Bruce a note praising “the bright path you cut through an age where so few people have grace and imagination and the virtues of another time.”

Many (though not all) salonnieres were women of means who indulged their passion for the arts — and often for progressive social causes also — by creating gathering spaces conducive to furthering their interests and aims. In this regard, the mid-century American celebrity hostess and author Evangeline Bruce once noted that women were typically better than men at hosting salons because they were better able to suppress their own egos and “take the time to be sure that everyone shines.”

Those familiar with Florent Schmitt’s catalogue of compositions know of the prominent presence of vocal music that he set to secular texts. With few exceptions, the words came from contemporary writers rather than from poets of yesteryear. Schmitt was a voracious reader of the important Parisian literary magazines; likewise, he was personally acquainted with many of the contemporary poets and writers active in Paris during the first half of the twentieth century.

There is little doubt that Schmitt’s predilection for setting contemporary verse to music was a fortunate by-product of his personal interactions at the salons in addition to the inspiration that he found in the French literary magazines. Robert de Montesquiou, Henri-Gauthier Villars, Charles Vildrac, Robert Ganzo, René Chalupt – these and other writers whose words he set to music were the very people he encountered at the salons of Paris.

American heiress, author and salonnièrre Natalie Clifford Barney (1876-1972), photographed in 1910. (Photo: Courtesy of George Wickes)

Of the various salons that Schmitt frequented, one of his favorites were the weekly Friday events hosted by Natalie Clifford Barney, an Ohio-born heiress who was educated in France and who ended up settling in Paris.

Known as Natalie Fridays, Mlle. Barney’s weekly gatherings at rue Jacob in the 6^th arrondissement were among the most notable and longstanding of their type – with gatherings that were first held in the early 1920s and continued regularly until the 1960s (suspended only during the years of World War II which Barney spent away from Paris in Florence, Italy).

To be invited to a Natalie Fridays gathering was an honor indeed, and the list of international literary personages who were attendees at Natalie Barney’s so-called “Temple of Friendship” over the years is impressive – including Americans Ernest Hemmingway, Thornton Wilder, Ezra Pound, Gertrude Stein and Bernhard Berenson. (Even Truman Capote was a guest in the later years of the salon.)

James Joyce, W. Somerset Maugham and Ford Madox Ford hailed from the United Kingdom and Ireland. From Italy, Gabriele d’Annunzio.

Even Otto von Habsburg, eldest son of the last sovereign of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was an occasional guest at Barney’s salon – not to mention a whole constellation of endlessly fascinating cultural icons including Robert de Montesquiou, Paul Valéry, Colette, Isadora Duncan and Ida Rubinstein, to name just several.

Wanda Landowska (1879-1959), photographed at the harpsichord in 1937.

In his 1984 book The Women of Montparnasse, author Cody Morrill noted that while Natalie Clifford Barney preferred writers to composers, she welcomed musicians to her salon as well. A violinist of some skill in her own right, doubtless she harbored an appreciation for classical music. The soprano Emma Calvé and harpsichordist Wanda Landowska were regular guests, along with an international  gallery of composers including George Antheil, Virgil Thomson, Arthur Honegger, Darius Milhaud, Alexis Roland-Manuel … and Florent Schmitt. Often the hostess would incorporate music into her Fridays gatherings, hiring instrumentalists to play discreetly in the background.

Virgil Thomson (1896-1989) pictured with Gertrude Stein (1874-1946) in an undated photo. (Courtesy: Bancroft Library/Virgil Thomson Foundation Ltd.)

As an example of the way that salons could help further the careers of budding composer talents, occasionally Barney would provide the venue for important musical presentations, such as when Virgil Thomson presented his composition Four Saints in Three Acts, featuring a libretto by Gertrude Stein. (The official premiere of the full opera happened in the United States in 1934, and featured an all-black vocal cast.)

American composer George Johann Carl Antheil (1900-1959), photographed with one of the “noisemakers” specially constructed for the premiere of his Ballet mécanique. The self-described “bad boy of American music” arrived in 1924 in Paris, which Antheil described as the “green tender morning,” from the “black night of Berlin.” Antheil was introduced by American writer Ezra Pound to Natalie Clifford Barney, at whose salon his Symphony for Five Instruments was premiered in 1924. (Florent Schmitt, who attended the premiere, could find only one word to describe what he’d heard: “Interesting.”) Barney would later underwrite the creation of Antheil’s radical String Quartet No. 1, premiered at rue Jacob on New Year’s Day in 1926 — the polar opposite of the kind of music that typically constitutes New Year concert programming. Back in the USA, during World War II George Antheil gained a different kind of notoriety in collaborating with Austrian-American actress Hedy Lamarr to develop a radio guidance system for torpedoes via the use of frequency-hopping spread-spectrum technology. (1925 photo)

The young American composer George Antheil was championed by the American writer Ezra Pound, who convinced Barney to host the debut of Antheil’s Symphony for Five Instruments at a Fridays event in January 1924.

In the January 19, 1924 edition of the Chicago Tribune, a reporter described the Antheil composition as “a weird mixture of jazz and discords – almost barbaric in the effect it produced” – and which “baffled” the Americans and Parisians at the gathering.

Late in Natalie Clifford Barney’s extraordinarily long life, she was interviewed in the garden of her rue Jacob home, in which she explained her commitment to the notion of the salon. Her remarks are perceptive and poignant — and they make it clear why so many found her salon gatherings so interesting and worthwhile:

In his 1931 book Back to Montparnasse, author Sisley Huddleston described the atmosphere of Natalie Fridays events as follows:

“One was ushered into that crowded, dim-lit salon by a soft-footed Oriental servant. When one became accustomed to the gloom, one picked out the distinguished guests. Paul Valéry was a frequenter of that salon; Dr. [Joseph Charles] Mardrus, the translator of A Thousand and One Nights; Lucie Delarue-Mardrus, the novelist, Salomon Reinach, archeologist; Isadora Duncan, the dancer; Alan Seeger, the American poet …Guillaume Apollinaire, who has been called the Father of Montparnasse; Florent Schmitt, the composer; [Charles] Seignobos, the historian; Edouard Herriot, the politician; Marie Laurencin, the painter; Kees van Dongen, Paul Morand, Fernand Divoire, Gomez de la Cerna, Valery Larbaud; and in fact nearly everybody in Paris who had done notable things in the arts, were her guests … 

Her salon, famous as it is, is not guided by any prejudice. ‘Nothing reigns there, and least of all myself.’ Her real salon, she says, is the tête-à-tête.”

This “map” was drawn up by Natalie Clifford Barney for publication in her 1929 book Aventures de l’esprit. Showing a map of Barney’s house, garden and “Temple of Friendship” on Rue Jacob, it displays the most frequent guests at her Natalie Fridays gatherings. Florent Schmitt and other composers/musicians are notated in the upper right-hand section of the map drawing.

Natalie Clifford Barney standing at the front of the “Temple of Friendship.” The Doric structure, dating from the 18th century, and its surrounding garden courtyard was the centerpiece of Natalie Fridays gatherings of prominent literary and cultural figures from all corners of the world. The last salon gathering, hosted in May 1968 by the then 92-year-old Barney, was held amidst the so-called Mai 68 student riots in Paris. Jean Chalon, a young writer who attended the salon, wrote afterwards that “the corks popped, keeping time with explosions in the streets.” The pavilion survives to this day, and has been designated an historic monument by the French government.

In a sense, Sisley Huddleston could have been writing about any number of other salon venues as well. Natalie Clifford Barney’s Fridays may have been among the most notable and influential of them but there were numerous others — barely remembered today — that played their own role as well.

In her 1967 book A Travers deux siècles, souvenirs, rencontres, 1883-1967, writer Camille Marbo recalled the 1920s Paris salon scene with this touching description of independent, widowed and divorced hostesses and their contribution to that world:

Gabriel Grovlez (1879-1944). The French composer met soprano Mary Mantelin when she was engaged to perform his music in recital in 1907. The couple was married the following year, but the union would not last. Florent Schmitt was a friend of both musicians and was a regular guest at Mantelin’s salon on rue du Bac in the 7th arrondisement of Paris.

“These women opened their apartments … which usually had only two rooms, to their friends. For example, the divorced wife of the musician [Gabriel] Grovlez, Mme. [Mary] Mantelin on rue du Bac, welcomed her guests in a mauve tunic, her grey hair warn à la garçonne above an androgynous body. In each of the rooms there was a large divan covered with black, yellow and blue cushions. The furniture consisted of a Norman wardrobe, a round table and wicker chairs, and a piano reserved for the composer Florent Schmitt.”

[As a parenthetical aside, historian Leora Auslander notes that the kind of salon hostesses Camille Marbo describes in her memoir were ones who lived modestly, surrounded by furniture and trappings whose quantity, style and color scheme would have been considered wholly inappropriate for the haute-bourgeoisie or upper-class venues that characterized French salons of the previous generation.]

A vintage menu card prepared for a banquet held at Rotisserie Peredourdin in Paris on December 12, 1927 honoring Florent Schmitt. Inscribed on the card is a musical “puzzle” penned by fellow-composers Florent Schmitt, Gabriel Grovlez and Louis Aubert. (Click or tap on the image for a larger view.)

It should be acknowledged that the Parisian salons weren’t uniformly “sweetness and light.” Like so much else in human nature, at times they could be places that brought out the worst rather than the best in people. American author Suzanne Rodriguez claims as much in her 2002 book Wild Heart, a biography of Natalie Clifford Barney, in which she writes about the salons of Paris as follows:

Natalie Clifford Barney was herself an author, with more than a dozen books to her credit (nearly all of them written in French). In December 1952, a Paris event was organized in Barney’s honor at Le Pullman on rue des Petits Champs (2nd arr.). The program opened with  a mini-recital of Florent Schmitt musical selections, followed by readings from Barney’s works presented by Fanny Robin, Jeanne Sully, Guy Squares and André Picot. Among the readings were selections from Pensées d’une Amazone, Barney’s 1921 feminist treatise (pictured above).

“Companionship, laughter and wit had characterized these gatherings from the beginning and continued to star, but increasingly, power and factions played important roles. Under the polished manners and polite smiles, the lances were out, with people jousting for ascendancy and recognition. Cliques, gossip, repartee — all could be savage.”

Writ large, however, Parisian salons did much to contribute to the cultural richness of the city and country, as they provided a consequential nexus whereby various branches of the arts could congregate and where attendees could draw mutual inspiration from one another. Notably (and somewhat uniquely), Florent Schmitt, acting as both salonnier and salonist, played a role on both sides of the equation.

The Salle Érard in Paris was the site of many premieres of works by major French and Belgian composers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Those premieres included compositions by Caplet, Chausson, Debussy, Delage, Duparc, Franck, Hahn, Honegger, Jongen, Ravel and others, in addition to Florent Schmitt. Small in size but boasting stellar acoustics, the Salle Érard was a particularly fine venue for chamber music performances. Before construction of Maison de la Radio in 1963, the hall also served as an important recording studio for French National Radio.

On Thursday, March 17, 1894, the 239^th concert of the Société nationale de musique was presented at the Salle Érard in Paris. It was the first time a piece composed by Florent Schmitt had appeared on any Parisian music program.

Among the two mélodies by Schmitt presented that evening by contralto Nelly Guénia was one titled simply Lied – a work which would eventually become the first of three mélodies gathered together in a set published by Durand as Schmitt’s Opus 4.

The first appearance of Florent Schmitt’s compositions on a Parisian concert program: March 17, 1894 at the Salle Érard, when the composer was 23 years old. One of two vocal selections sung that evening by soprano Nelly Guénia would become the first of Schmitt’s Trois mélodies, Op. 4.

Lucie Frederica Marguerite Jourdain de Saint-Marceaux (1850-1930), an accomplished amateur pianist and singer and the affluent widow of the artist Eugène Baugnais, married sculptor René de Saint-Marceaux in 1892. From 1880 until the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, Mme. de Saint-Marceaux was one of the most important and consequential salonnières, hosting Friday evening receptions and dinners at her residence at 100 Boulevard Malesherbes (17th arr.). Florent Schmitt and numerous other French composers of his generation were frequent guests at her salon, and she carried on a robust written correspondence with several of them as well. Five letters addressed by Florent Schmitt to Mme. de Saint-Marceaux have survived. They reveal the keen interest she had in his music. For his part, the young composer was unsure of the worthiness of his creative output; in one letter, Schmitt stated, “I hasten to write to you because I anticipate not being able to send you right away my unfortunate mélodies, on which you have already wasted too much time. Because looking at them very closely, I’ve come to the realization that if I start to modify them, I will delete exactly everything — from the first note to last. Thus, this tells you that at this moment I am in absolute discouragement, and no longer have the faintest hope or slightest confidence in my abilities … But I will console myself by coming to see you on one of your Fridays. And I will ask you again for some good advice as you have sometimes given me — and which is very precious [to me].”

Also notably, the Trois mélodies, Op. 4 took their literary inspiration from contemporary writers instead of the poets of yesteryear. This was a practice that Florent Schmitt would follow for the rest of his life, where we find him returning again and again to the human voice — nearly always setting texts of modern-day poets.

The three pieces that make up the Trois mélodies, Op.4 are as follows:

• Lied (text by Camille Mauclair … dedicated to Mme. la Comtesse de Chaumont-Quitry)
• Il pleure dans mon coeur (text by Paul Verlaine … dedicated to Mme. Meyrianne Héglon)
• Fils de la Vierge (text by Maurice Ganivet … dedicated to Mme. Marguerite Ida Premsel Sulzbach)

The dedication that Florent Schmitt included in the published score of the Lied was one of several that the composer made to Marie Jeanne de Bonnault de Villamenard, Comtesse de Chaumont-Quitry (1853-1907), a music-loving Parisian society personality. Schmitt’s dedications to the Comtesse also included the ten piano preludes Soirs (pictured above) plus Book II of Musiques intimes.

The first item in the set – Lied – was composed in the early 1890s. Inspired by the dark poetry of Camille Mauclair [Séverin Faust], the text translates into English from the original French as shown below. (N.B.: All English translations of the Op. 4 texts in this article are courtesy of Hermann Klein and Edward Rushton.)

The roses of yesteryear are dead – dead as the dusk.

The roses of yesteryear have shed their petals in the wind which intones a song of the forsaken,

From their silence never to awaken,

The song of one forsaken, faintly sobbing in the twilight.

The lament of the forsaken glimmers in foliage like the gold of a garland old and broken,

Lying here, mourned in the twilight of one now dead,

As on a forehead at once so sad and void, dreaming of the death of a past year,

O sweet, faded Ariane.

The first page of the score to Lied, the first of the Trois mélodies, Op. 4 by Florent Schmitt.

Camille Mauclair was the nom de plume of French poet, novelist, biographer, travel writer and art critic Séverin Faust (1872-1945). A devotee of Stéphane Mallarmé, Mauclair contributed works to the leading French literary magazines as well as to the anarchist press. With fellow writer Paul Fort, Mauclair founded the art theatre that would be the first to stage Maurice Maeterlinck’s works in France, including Pélleas et Mélisande in 1893.  Mauclair’s own poetry was set to music by the leading French composers of his day including Ernest Chausson, Nadia Boulanger, Gustave Charpentier, Louis Aubert, Ernest Bloch and Rhené-Baton in addition to Florent Schmitt. In the interwar period Mauclair became more conservative in his outlook, criticizing what he considered to be “decadence and ugliness” in French art — along with denouncing modern/functionalist architecture which he thought to be coldly impersonal. A supporter of the Vichy government during World War II, Mauclair eluded épuration sanctions after liberation on account of his death on April 23, 1945. (Pastel portrait by Lucien Lévy-Dhurmer, 1896)

Mauclair’s style of writing leaves little doubt that he was an admirer and fellow-traveler of Stéphane Mallarmé and Maurice Maeterlinck. Considering the similarities in writing style, it’s no surprise that Mauclair’s poetry attracted other composers beyond Schmitt to set his verse to music – among them Ernest Chausson, Gustave Charpentier, Ernest Bloch and Nadia Boulanger.

Pianist and composer Edward Rushton, who with bass-baritone René Perler has made the first (and to-date only) commercial recording of the complete Trois mélodies, Op. 4, recognizes Schmitt’s budding originality in the Lied, noting:

“Some of Schmitt’s personal and highly individual fingerprints are already audible, such as the descending chain of fifths, a tritone apart, that curls through Lied, providing a stark counterpoint to the deliberately monotonous vocal line.”

The French poet and writer Paul Verlaine (1844-1896) led a turbulent life marred by complicated family relationships, a disastrous marriage, and a torrid affair with a younger fellow-poet Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891). That relationship led to Verlaine being convicted in Brussels on morals charges and imprisoned for two years. Released in 1875, Verlaine returned to his Roman Catholic faith, later beginning a new (possibly platonic) relationship with Lucien Létinois, a student. Létinois would die of typhoid fever in 1883 at just 23 years of age, precipitating a further deterioration in Verlaine’s mental state. The poet continued writing and publishing even while suffering from alcoholism, diabetes, ulcers and syphilis. Dying in 1896 at the age of 51, Verlaine’s funeral was held at the church of St-Étienne-du-Mont in  Paris, attended by numerous arts luminaries including Gabriel Fauré and Robert de Montesquiou. In addition to Florent Schmitt, many composers have set Verlaine’s verse to music — notably Fauré and Reynaldo Hahn contemporaneous to Schmitt in France.

The second item in the set – Il pleure dans mon coeur (“There is crying in my heart”) – is based on the poetry of Paul Verlaine. This mélodie was composed by Schmitt in 1894, just two years before Verlaine would die from alcoholism and related ailments at the prematurely young age of 51.

[Verlaine’s tumultuous life reads like a screenplay for a movie about an archetypical “tortured artist” – similar in some respects to the American writer Edgar Allan Poe — equally recognized in France for his literary greatness.]

The English translation of Verlaine’s words as set to music by Florent Schmitt is as follows:

There is crying in my heart, like the rain on a quiet town.

What is this vague unrest now pervading my heart?

Soprano Meyrianne Héglon (born Marie-Antoinette Willemsen in 1867 in Belgium) established her career in opera. She made her debut at the Paris Opéra in 1890 and starred in no fewer than ten operatic premieres there, including the role of Dara in Augusta Holmès’ La Montagne noire (1895). She was also very active at the Opéra de Monte-Carlo. Apart from the operatic stage, in 1898 Héglon sang in the premiere performance of Verdi’s Tre pezzi sacri under the direction of Paul Taffanel in Paris. Florent Schmitt dedicated the second of his Trois mélodies, Op. 4 to her.

O gentle sound of the rain on the ground and on the roofs,

For a yearning heart, the song of the rain,

There is no reason for the crying in this heart that has lost heart.

What – no betrayal? This mourning has no reason.

Surely ‘tis the worst pain to know not why,

Without love and without hate, such pain remains in my heart!

Florent Schmitt’s music conveys a sense of past pleasures recalled in a bleak present, but the overall feeling is one of hopelessness. Done with uncommon effectiveness, to my ears Schmitt brings out the pathos of the text more poignantly than Fauré in his own musical treatment of the same Verlaine poem.

The first page of the score to Il pleure dans mon coeur, the second of the Trois mélodies, Op. 4 by Florent Schmitt.

Edward Rushton

Pianist Edward Rushton takes things a step further, noting:

“Verlaine’s poem seems to have been obligatory for all French — and many international — composers of that period to set to music. I find Schmitt’s musical response to this poetry particularly lovely; it’s worlds apart from the spleenishness of Debussy and Fauré’s settings (to name two of the most familiar ones).”

The Chateau du Grand Chesnay was a neo-classical “pleasure palace” constructed between 1780 and 1810 by the Pelletier family. Among its subsequent owners was the German-born banker and art collector Maurice Sulzbach, uncle of Baron Henri de Rothschild. His wife, Marguerite Ida Premsel Sulzbach (1863-1945) was a soprano who established a popular Sunday musical salon at the Chateau. Florent Schmitt, a frequent guest at the salon, dedicated the third of his Trois mélodies, Op. 4 to Mme. Sulzbach, who may well have sung the music as well. Following the death of Maurice Sulzbach in 1922, the Chateau went through a succession of new owners. Today it is the property of the Versailles Hospital Center, which operates the Chateau as a center devoted to the specialties of psychiatry and medical biology.

The third number in the Op. 4 mélodies – Fils de la Vierge (“Gossamer”) – is set to verse by Maurice Ganivet. Comparatively little biographical information survives about this French diplomat and poet who lived from 1849 to 1884. His verse was set to music by a number of French composers active in the second half of the nineteenth century including Émile Spencer, Édouard Deransart, Charles Thony and Jean-Baptiste de Crozc — none of them as prominent as Florent Schmitt.

Maurice Ganivet’s entire literary output has been out of print for more than a century. Original editions of his writings, such as the Poésies volume published in 1899 pictured above, are extremely rare.

[At approximately the same time as Fils de la Vierge, Florent Schmitt set another Ganivet poem to music – Nature morte – published as the first of his Deux chansons, Op. 2.]

Considering the characteristics of the text that inspired Florent Schmitt, Ganivet seems not have been a writer quite matching the caliber of a Verlaine or Mauclair. That being said, the English translation of Fils de la Vierge certainly succeeds in tugging at the heartstrings:

Maurice Ganivet (1848-1884): The lawyer, embassy attaché  and writer lived just 34 years.

Like shimmering threads which, ‘tis said, are by the Virgin sown,

With fragments drawn from her crown,

From flower to flower across the fields,

Fine golden threads of celestial light.

The flowered fancies of my thoughts,

Have my soul imprisoned which, paralyzed, cannot take flight.

I live as a recluse, for I know that if ever this dream may cease,

To be free will mean to be no more.

The first page of the score to Fils de la Vierge, the third of the Trois mélodies, Op. 4 by Florent Schmitt.

The 1900 premiere performance of the complete Trois mélodies, Op. 4 by Florent Schmitt was held at the Théâtre Sarah-Bernhardt in Paris. Built by Baron Georges-Eugène Haussmann between 1860 and 1862, the theatre subsequently went through a succession of owners (and names) before being almost completely destroyed by fire in May 1871 during the waning days of the Paris Commune. It was rebuilt in 1874 on the same plans as the original structure. In 1899 the theatre was named for Sarah Bernhardt, who produced there for nearly two decades thereafter. Notable musical premieres held at the theatre included Bizet’s Les Pécheurs des perles, Gounod’s Mireille and Roméo et Juliette, Stravinsky’s Apollon musagète and Prokofiev’s Prodigal Son. Today the venue is known as the Théatre de la Ville — and while the exterior is unchanged, the interior has been completely transformed into a space for showcasing contemporary dance productions.

Compared to Florent Schmitt’s treatment of the Mauclair text in Lied, in his settings of the Verlaine and Ganivet the musical style seems more conventionally late-romantic. Even so, pianist Edward Rushton notes that “both songs end on unresolved harmonies – surely a sign of rebellion from a 24-year-old composer uninterested in following rules.”

As noted above, the first of the Trois mélodies was first heard in concert in Paris in 1894, but it wouldn’t be until 1900 that the complete set was presented in recital, as part of a program sung by soprano Suzanne Cesbron at the Sarah Bernhardt Theatre in Paris.

The 1900 premiere peformance of the complete Trois mélodies, Op. 4 of Florent Schmitt was sung by Suzanne Cesbron (1879-1967). The Paris-born soprano, who had studied under Pauline Viardot, made her debut at the Opéra-Comique in 1902, where she was famous for her portrayals of Massenet heroines as well as for a wide range of other operatic repertoire (Wagner, Lalo, Offenbach, Gounod, Thomas, Charpentier, Hahn, Debussy). Cesbron also sang in the French provinces as well as in Brussels, Algiers and Tunis. In 1918 she married the conductor Georges Auguste Viseur and in 1927 began teaching at the Paris Conservatoire, where her most notable students included Germaine Lubin and Régine Crespin. (Photo of Cesbron in the role of Nedda in Leoncavallo’s I Pagliacci.)

The Op. 4 mélodies had to wait until 1911 to be published as a set (brought out by Durand), but before then they had already been appearing on various French and European recital programs, either individually or as a group.

The first news reports I have found of the Op. 4 complete set being performed in the United States was at a recital presented by contralto Ethel Grow with collaborating pianist Albert Baker for the benefit of the MacDowell Colony Fund, given at the Plaza Hotel in New York City in January 1923 under the auspices of the Washington Heights Musical Club. A review of the recital, published in the February 8, 1923 issue of Musical Courier magazine, stated in part:

Born in Chicago, American contralto Ethel Grow studied voice with George W. Munro in her native city. On the recommendation of Chicago Symphony Orchestra music director Frederick Stock, Miss Grow relocated to London to work with Sir Henry Wood, appearing there in oratorio and operetta. She returned to the United States in 1921 to focus on concertizing, with particular attention on presenting the modern French and American art song repertoire. While American press reviews of Miss Grow’s performances were generally favorable, such was not the case in England, where Grow’s 1915 debut at Bechstein (now Wigmore) Hall was described by The Athenaeum magazine as follows: “She has a strong though somewhat unsympathetic voice … the singer’s intonation too was uncertain, but that may have been due to a cold.” Most of Miss Grow’s U.S. appearances were sponsored by the Washington Heights Musical Club. The organization’s president was Jane R. Cathcart, a pianist, impresario, and erstwhile international cat breeder and horse trainer — and also Ethel Grow’s longtime partner. In 1919, Cathcart donated her family’s land holdings to the town of Hasbrouck Heights in Bergen County, New Jersey for the establishment of a park. Cathcart’s house still stands adjacent to the park, alongside the imposing five-story brick Cathcart Apartments building, erected in 1927 on the site of the horse stables she once owned.

“A program of rare merit was given in a manner that delighted those present and won a very real success for the singer, who was forced to respond to demands for many encores. Miss Grow has a voice and brains – and in song one is just as important as the other, especially when the singer undertakes music of a highly aesthetic character like the things from the modern French … some of the songs heard, possibly, for the first time in New York. 

The Schmitt songs … are really lovely, and why they are not more often sung in this city is one of the mysteries. Miss Grow made much of them – the wide range of her voice and its pathetic intensity being most grateful to this strange, elusive music.”

This announcement of the January 30, 1923 benefit recital by American contralto Ethel Grow appeared in the Christian Science Monitor. Note the inclusion of Florent Schmitt’s Trois mélodies, Op. 4 and other French and American art songs on the program.

Moving forward a decade, it’s interesting to discover the esteem that Florent Schmitt must have felt for these early art songs – to the degree that he chose to program them during his first and only American tour in 1932-33. In New York City, Schmitt’s November 1932 Town Hall recital (presented under the sponsorship of the League of Composers) included selections from the vocal set Kérob-Shal, which had been composed in the early 1920s in a much more daring musical style. But in Detroit, Schmitt’s December 2, 1932 concert (presented under the auspices of the ProMusica Detroit organization), instead included the Op. 4 Trois mélodies, sung by soprano Florence Armstrong Chapin with the composer at the keyboard.

Philippe Jaroussky

In hindsight, we can recognize that after the first two decades of the twentieth century, Schmitt’s Trois mélodies essentially disappeared from the performing repertoire. That’s hardly surprising, since its late-romantic idiom had become decidedly out of fashion while also being rather unrepresentative of Schmitt’s later (and more recognizably original) style.

Philippe Jaroussky included Florent Schmitt’s Il pleue dans mon coeur in his  2014 2-CD Erato recording featuring mélodies set to the poetry of Paul Verlaine. Jaroussky titled his recording “Green” — no doubt a reference to Verlaine’s unhealthy attachment to absinthe (la fée verte).

Despite its near-total obscurity, in our time the French countertenor Philippe Jaroussky has included Il pleure dans mon coeur in recitals presenting musical settings of the poetry of Paul Verlaine. Furthermore, Jaroussky and pianist Jérôme Ducros made a commercial recording of the Schmitt excerpt on the Erato label in 2014.

René Perler

But the world had to wait until 2020 for the first commercial recording of the complete Trois mélodies, Op. 4 to appear. Released on the Resonus Classics label during Florent Schmitt’s 150^th birthday anniversary year, the premiere recording features Swiss bass-baritone René Perler joined by with English pianist (and ardent Florent Schmitt advocate) Edward Rushton. The Resonus recording, devoted exclusively to vocal music by Schmitt, has generated well-deserved critical accolades.

Premiere commercial recording of the complete Op. 4 set (Resonus Classics, 2020).

Moreover, the Perler/Rushton performance has now been uploaded to YouTube along with the score, so listeners can follow along to “see as well as hear” the music.

Doing so will reveal Florent Schmitt’s sensitivity and effectiveness in capturing the “essence” of the texts — as well as illustrating the significant distance his musical artistry had already traveled in the short time since he’d begun his composition studies with Jules Massenet and Gabriel Fauré at the Paris Conservatoire.

Furthermore, in becoming acquainted with this music we discover that, far from sounding faded or dated, to 21^st century ears these Trois mélodies possess qualities that are, in fact, timeless.

Although Florent Schmitt’s Trois mélodies, Op. 4 wasn’t published as a set until 1911, the three individual art songs were published by Durand separately in the late 1890s. The second of them, Il pleure dans mon coeur (pictured above), first appeared in 1898.

Florent Schmitt, photographed in about 1940.

The catalogue of Florent Schmitt’s compositions is extensive, consisting of some 138 opus-numbered items (actually, two numbers weren’t used by the composer — including Op. 111, omitted in deference to Beethoven’s 32^nd Piano Sonata).

But there’s more. Going beyond the “official” catalogue, we find a number of additional items. Chief among them are Schmitt’s first four secular cantatas submitted to the Prix de Rome composition competitions of 1896-99, plus other juvenilia stipulated by the composer as “never to be published”).

Ivo Kaltchev. The Bulgarian-born pianist studied in Rome, and today is professor of piano performance at Catholic University of America in Washington, DC.

As well, several piano pieces from Florent Schmitt’s mature period exist outside the listing of opus-numbered compositions.  One is a piece titled Prélude … pour une suite à venir (Prelude for a Suite to Come).  The work appears to have been intended for a larger work that never materialized. Instead, the Prélude was published by Éditions Billaudot as a separate composition decades after the composer’s death, and it was also commercially recorded by Ivo Kaltchev in January 2001.

Dating from 1948, the Prélude is a fascinating piece that exhibits the harmonic complexities of Schmitt’s later pianistic style. Craggy, dissonant and abstract, the music is in some ways remindful of the output of mid-century modern composers  such as Dane Rudhyar (né Daniel Chennevière) and Carl Ruggles — which you’ll readily discern when listening to this YouTube upload of Mr. Kaltchev’s recording:

Published by the Presses universitaires de France, this Paris 1943 arts and culture yearbook was intended to demonstrate the cultural resilience of the city of Paris in the face of occupation. In addition to new musical compositions, the almanac contained a range of essays written by literary contributors including Henri-René Lenormand, Robert Desnos and Lucie Delarue-Mardrus.

Several years before the Prélude, another short piano work by Schmitt that carries no opus number appeared in a French arts and culture publication. The 200+ page volume – a “yearbook” of sorts – contained feature articles concerning Parisian art, achitecture and literature. In addition, newly created short piano pieces commissioned from a dozen Francophone composers were included in the publication – the most famous of whom were Arthur Honegger, Jean Françaix, Paul Le Flem, Jean Hubeau, Claude Delvincourt, Maurice Thiriet, Louis Beydts … and Florent Schmitt.

Brief in duration (only one score is more than two pages in length), these pieces were intended for musicians of modest technical abilities, and several are scored for voice and piano. I have long possessed a copy of the book, printed at the end of 1942 by Presses universitaires de France, and consider the piece by Schmitt, titled Songe, to be among the most exquisite gems of the dozen miniatures appearing in the almanac.

This sketch of Florent Schmitt was drawn by Roger Guit (1889-1978). An artist known primarily for his landscape and still-life paintings, in 1942 Guit created a series of sketch portraits of a dozen Francophone composers that complemented the new compositions created by them and published in the Paris Arts Lettres almanac. Today the original portraits are in the permanent collection of the Musée Carnavalet in Paris.

The piece’s French title (Songe) is a word that is in some ways difficult to translate. It is similar to the French word “rêve”, but not an exact match.

No stranger to “dreams in music,” Florent Schmitt had composed a work for piano (and also for orchestra) by the name of Rêves as far back as 1915. But far from being a “dreamy” composition, Schmitt’s 1915 Rêves is instead a feverish, hallucinatory experience. Indeed, upon encountering the orchestral version of the piece in concert, the more conservative music critics in Europe and the United States were surprised  (and distressed) at the modernity of the piece – several going so far as to suggest that the composition’s title should be changed to “Nightmare”!

Musicologist and author Nicolas Southon (r.) and Phillip Nones, photographed at a 7th arr. Paris bistrot in 2022.

By contrast, Florent Schmitt’s Songe, which dates from a quarter-century later (1942), is of a different character. Helping to explain why, musicologist and author Nicolas Southon notes the subtle differences in the meaning of the two French words, as follows:

“In French, ‘rêve’ and ‘songe’ may seem at first glance to have more or less the same meaning. But in actuality, a ‘rêve’ is a phenomenon that occurs during sleep – images or movie-type sensations – which are often coherent ideas influenced by the daily experiences lived by the person. 

By contrast, a ‘songe’ occurs during the waking state; it is more fanciful and surreal, and it can be directed consciously by the person. There’s often a sense of ‘wandering’ – of taking a journey in thoughts.”

Perhaps the most practical English translation of “songe” is “daydream,” dictionary-defined as “a series of often-pleasant thoughts that distract one’s attention from the present.” It’s also useful to note that the French verb “songer” means “to think or reflect in a waking way.”

Regardless of the particular nuances of the title, Florent Schmitt’s Songe is an interesting — and beautiful — piano miniature. Southon senses a degree of Wagnerian flavor in the music, noting:

“The piano’s sometimes-syncopated writing recalls passages from Tristan und Isolde. It’s clearly a post-romantic work: post-Wagnerian, dreamy and dark — even if Schmitt incorporates chords here and there that Wagner would never have used.”

The first page of Florent Schmitt’s Songe, a short piano composition composed in 1942 and contributed to a Paris arts and culture yearbook, where it was published along with pieces from eleven other Francophone composers.

In early 2024, I sent the sheet music for Florent Schmitt’s Songe score to an amateur French pianist I’ve known since 2017 – Gilles Poilvet. Mr. Poilvet has since made a video of himself playing the piece at his home studio in Le Havre, and which has been uploaded to YouTube.

Gilles Poilvet, seated at the grand piano in his home music studio in Le Havre, France.

Mr. Poilvet is a prime example of the best kind of “amateur” performer – a person who studies and plays classical music purely for the love of it. He started playing piano at age six and studied with teachers until the age of 15.  There followed a number of years when, like many typical teenagers, he stepped away from the instrument. But he continued to feel the pull of the piano and started playing again during his university years, progressing on his own.

In the decades since, Gilles Poilvet has distinguished himself in a career in international commerce. Currently he serves as a vice president and financial director at the aircraft engines division of Groupe SAFRAN. But he has never lost his love for the piano. In fact, he launched a YouTube music channel in 2014, corresponding to resuming private lessons with a piano teacher after a hiatus of a quarter-century.

As Poilvet recalls, “It was my daughter who made the first video of me playing the piano, and uploaded it. I found it interesting and so I continued.” In the decade since, he has uploaded more than 400 performances featuring repertoire that includes not only works from the “classical hit parade,” but also lesser-known French piano music that he’s discovered and studied on his own — compositions by Louis Aubert, Gabriel Dupont and Florent Schmitt, among others.

Fully aware of the technical limitations of being an amateur pianist among the legions of professional musicians active everywhere, Poilvet explains the motivation for his music channel succinctly: “Quite simply, I love piano music. And for me, working on a piece is the best way to try to understand it.”

He also appreciates the interactions his YouTube music channel has sparked with other musicians – both amateurs and professionals. A representative comment on Poilvet’s Songe YouTube upload is this insightful observation from channel subscriber Alessandro Pelizzoli:

“A visionary, ultra-sophisticated piece — and a perfect example of the extremely mature language developed by Florent Schmitt — in a sensitive and convincing performance of this marvel.”

Going a step further, courtesy of George ‘Nick’ Gianopoulos’ YouTube music channel, Gilles Poilvet’s performance of Florent Schmitt’s Songe has now been uploaded along with the score, so that music-lovers can “see as well as hear” the composition:

Whenever I listen to Florent Schmitt’s Songe, I find it remindful not so much of the composer’s Rêves from a quarter-century earlier, but rather the slow movement (Bocane) from Schmitt’s Trois danses, composed just a few years before the Songe. The Bocane is perhaps a bit more Ravelian than Wagnerian in its flavor, but both pieces are contemplative and dreamy – and both are perfect little gems.

The score cover to Florent Schmitt’s Prélude … pour une suite à venir, published by Billaudot.

Moreover, we come to realize in both the Prélude … pour une suite à venir and Songe that Schmitt’s mature pieces which, for whatever reason, never made it into the composer’s “official” catalogue of compositions are no less interesting or inspired. And for that reason, it is gratifying that they have been made available for today’s music-lovers to hear and enjoy.

The new soundtrack, prepared by Simon Cloquet-Lafollye, includes nearly an hour of music taken from four Florent Schmitt orchestral scores.

The epic film Napoléon is rightly viewed as one of the greatest cinematographic feats in motion picture history. And this distinction is even more impressive when we consider that Napoléon was a silent film produced all the way back in 1927 — nearly a century ago.

Abel Gance (1889-1981) was the illegitimate son of a doctor and a working-class mother. Gance left school at age 14 and was largely self-taught as an actor, writer, film director and producer. Although he produced dozens of films over his lengthy career, Gance is best-remembered for his work during the silent-film era — Napoléon (1927) being the best-known and most highly celebrated of his creations.

The creative force behind making this pathfinding film was Abel Gance, a French director, producer, writer and actor. Born Abel Eugène Alexandre Péréthon in 1889, Gance lived to the age of 92, and his career spanned the eras of both silent film and “talkies.”  He is best-known for three films from early in his career – all of them with storylines based on historical or socio-political themes: J’accuse (1919); La Roue (The Wheel) (1923), and Napoléon (1927).

Largely self-taught in literature and the arts, Gance began his career in the world of theatre, working as both as a director and writer. Famously, he wrote his five-hour drama Victoire de Samothrace in the years prior to World War I, in hopes that the actress Sarah Bernhardt would agree to star in the leading role. (Those plans came to naught, in part because of Gance’s refusal to shorten the play for staging purposes.)

American film director D. W. Griffith (1875-1948)

Gance’s postwar silent film J’accuse, which focused on the impact of war in both physical and psychological terms, made a powerful impact and achieved international distribution, as did La Roue two years later. It was during this period that Gance met the famed film director D. W. Griffith while on a publicity tour of the United States – a meeting that would spark Gance’s interest in creating an epic film chronicling the consequential life of Napoléon Bonaparte.

Abel Gance (r.), pictured with financial backers at his studio in Boulonge during the filming of the Brienne Military College scenes from the 1927 film Napoléon.

Abel Gance’s original plan was to make six sequential films covering the life and career of Napoléon Bonaparte. As it turned out, only the first part of Gance’s vision was destined to be made, tracing the protagonist’s early life through the French Revolution and up to the invasion of Italy.

In this film, Gance’s cinematography has long been recognized as a masterpiece of fluid camera motion, produced in an era when camera shots were static. Indeed, the film was chockfull of a wide range of novel experimental techniques combining rapid cutting, hand-held camera angles, super-imposition of images, plus widescreen sequences.

French silent film actor, director and author Albert Dieudonné (1889-1976).

Gance employed a system of filming that was later referred to as “polyvision” by French film and music critic Émile Vuillermoz– a process that required triple cameras (the simultaneous projection of three reels of silent film arrayed in a horizontal row) to achieve a spectacular panoramic effect, enabling Gance to create meticulously choreographed historical scenes featuring scores (and sometimes hundreds) of characters. The selection of Albert Dieudonné to play the role of Napoléon Bonaparte was considered a masterstroke, in part becuase of the actor’s uncanny resemblance to the real-life character.

Other techniques employed by Gance in Napoléon included location shooting (then almost unheard of), underwater camera scenes, POV shots, kaleidoscopic images, and film tinting. To say that the film was a revolutionary project would be an understatement!

Abel Gance’s epic silent film Napoléon is recognized as a masterpiece of fluid camera motion, produced at a time when camera shots were static. Among the innovative techniques employed in making the film were location shooting, handheld camera shots, extensive closeups, super-imposition, and kaleidoscopic images.

The Apollo Theatre in Geneva, Switzerland during the premiere of Abel Gance’s film Napoléon in 1927.

When the original version of Napoléon opened in theatres in May 1927, it clocked in at an extraordinary 7+ hours. Its length was reduced for European distribution of the movie, and it became even shorter when it was released in America. The majority of the film’s soundtrack consisted of incidental music composed by Arthur Honegger (Werner Heymann in the German release), but the famous Marseillaise anthem was also featured prominently in several scenes of the movie.

A promotional poster for the first USA release of the Abel Gance film Napoléon (1928).

The original release was just the beginning of the film’s career. Gance reused some of the material in later films, and several restorations of Napoléon in the 1980s confirmed it as Gance’s most consequential work. The various 1980s iterations clocked in at around five hours in length, with new music contributed by contemporary composers Carmine Coppola (1980), Carl Davis (1983) and Marius Constant (1989). All in all, no fewer than 20 different versions of the film had been released as of the turn of the 21^st century.

Beginning in 2008, a quest was undertaken to restore Gance’s film to its original glory, including searching for missing scenes that had been omitted following the 1927 Apollo Theatre premiere. It would take 15 years for the project to come to completion, assisted along the way by financial support from the Golden Globe Foundation, the Centre national du cinéma et de l’image animée, and Netflix. Various archival sources were tapped to resurrect the original storyline, with reels and footage found at the Cinémathèque française, Cinémathèque de Toulouse and Cinémathèque de Corse as well as locations further afield (Italy, Denmark, Luxembourg, New York City, and even Serbia).

Film restoration expert Georges Mourier led a team of specialists who worked frame-by-frame to review and utilize reams of film footage. Abel Gance’s original editing notes and related correspondence, found on file at the Bibliothèque National de France, helped make it possible to re-edit the film to conform as closely as possible to Gance’s artistic conception.

A publicity poster for the cine-concert premiere of the 2024 version of the Abel Gance film Napoléon, presented at La Seine musicale in Paris.

After several delays in seeing the gargantuan project through to its conclusion, the first part of the film was shown at the Cannes Film Festival in May 2024, followed by the premiere of the full two-part movie at La Seine musicale in Boulogne-Billancourt (Paris) over two evenings on July 4 and 5, 2024. The Paris premiere was attended by an audience of over 3,000 people that included Abel Gance’s own daughter, scriptwriter Clarice Gance, in attendance.

In the program booklet distributed at the Paris premiere, the scope of the project was described in epochal terms: 16 years of work … 1,000 boxes of material examined … 300 kms. of celluloid gathered, sorted and studied.

British TV/film producer, historian and critic Paul Cuff, author of the 2015 book A Revolution for the Screen: Abel Gance’s Napoléon, was present at the Paris premiere and shared his thoughts about the event in an article that included the following observations:

The futuristic La Seine musicale in Paris, site of the premiere of the 2024 version of the Abel Gance film Napoléon.

“What does the new restoration offer? For a start, it looks stunning. The ‘giant screen’ promised did indeed present the single-screen material in superb quality … [with] great depth and detail. Throughout, the photography is captivatingly beautiful. I was struck anew by the sharpness of Gance’s compositions in depth, by the landscapes across winter, spring and summer, by the brilliance of the close-ups. I fell in love all over again with those numerous shots in which characters stare directly into the camera, making eye contact with us nearly a century later.”

Simon Cloquet-Lafollye

As for the new soundtrack for the movie, a score of 148 cues from 104 works by 48 composers, spanning ~200 years of music was curated and assembled by film composer and arranger Simon Cloquet-Lafollye, marking a major departure from earlier releases of the film. Rather than attempt to match musical phrases to specific frame-by-frame action on the screen, Cloquet-Lafollye elected to employ full excerpts (movements) from existing classical music scores.  In the event, it was a strategy that may not have been fully successful. Paul Cuff noted in his reporting:

“As stated in the concert program, Cloquet-Lafollye’s aim was to produce ‘a homogenous, coherent piece, in perfect harmonic synchronization with the rhythm imposed by the images,’ a ‘score totally new and hitherto unheard that takes its meaning solely from the integrity of the images.’ But these ambitions were only intermittently realized, and sometimes entirely abandoned. 

Rhythmically, aesthetically and even culturally, the music was frequently divorced from what was happening on screen. My impression was of blocks of sound floating over the images, occasionally synchronizing, then drifting away … To me, this seemed symptomatic of the way Cloquet-Lafollye tended to use whole movements or repertoire works rather than a more elaborate montage of shorter segments. Using blocks of music in this way also made the transition from one work to the other more obvious, and sometimes clunky … Too often, the score is working in a different register and/or at a different tempo to the film.”

Abel Gance (l.) pictured with composer Arthur Honegger in 1926, a year before the release of the original version of the film Napoléon, for which Honegger composed the musical score.

Only a single excerpt from Arthur Honegger’s original music for the 1927 original release of the film — a selection titled Les Ombres — was incorporated in the soundtrack for the 2024 version. As to why this was the case, Cloquet-Lafollye’s program essay about the music mentions Honegger only in the context that both the composer and Gance were dissatisfied with the soundtrack at the premiere showing.

Interestingly, of the 7+ hours that make up the 2024 soundtrack, nearly an hour’s worth of music has been taken from four scores by Florent Schmitt.

The soundtrack developed by Simon Cloquet-Lafollye for the Brienne Military College scenes in Abel Gance’s film Napoléon includes music by Mendelssohn, Philippe Gaubert, Benjamin Godard and Florent Schmitt.

The selections include one of the orchestral preludes from Schmitt’s early-career Soirs (1890-96), the final two dances from his ballet La Tragédie de Salomé (1910 version), the full first suite plus excerpts from the second suite of incidental music composed by Schmitt for André Gide’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s play Antoine et Cléopâtre (1920), as well as the middle movement from Schmitt’s late-career Symphony No. 2 (1957).

In Simon Cloquet-Lafollye’s soundtrack for the 2024 version of Abel Gance’s film Napoléon, Florent Schmitt’s music is used extensively in the scenes portraying Bonaparte’s poverty in Paris, and then the mobilization and invasion of the royal residence at the Tuileries Palace on August, 10, 1792 when King Louis XVI of France was arrested and effectively deposed, leading to his execution in January 1793.

Perhaps most controversially, Cloquet-Lafollye’s choice of music for the final scene of the movie came as a letdown to some attendees at the premiere.  Cuff, for one, noted: 

”In the final few minutes, Napoléon’s ‘destruction and creation of worlds’ bursts across three simultaneous screens: lateral and consecutive montages combine; shot scales collide; spatial and temporal context are intermingled. Finally, the screens are tinted blue, white, and red – just as Gance simultaneously rewinds, fast-forwards, and suspends time. After this incalculable horde of images flies across their breadth, each of the three screens bears an identical close-up of rushing water. This is an image we first saw during the Double Tempest when Bonaparte sets out to confront his destiny – there, the water churns in the path of his vessel, borne by a sail fashioned from a huge tricolor; now, the screen itself has become a flag: the fluttering surge of the ocean is the spirit of the Revolution and of the cinema. The triptych holds this form just long enough for the spectator to lose any sense of the world beyond it, then vanishes with heart-wrenching suddenness. The elation of flight is followed by the sensation of falling to earth. 

But what music does Cloquet-Lafollye chose for this visual apocalypse, this lightning-fast surge of images? During the last passage of the Mahler, I saw the choir troop back onto the stage to join the orchestra. Was this to be another performance of La Marseillaise? No. As the Army of Italy marches into history, the choir and orchestra on stage began their rendition of Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus – music of the utmost slowness and serenity, of absolute calm and peace. It is perhaps the most ill-conceived choice of music I have ever seen in a silent film score. I’ve sat through far, far worse scores, but none has ever disappointed me as much as this single choice of music. When the choir started singing, I honestly thought it must be a mistake, a joke – even that I was dreaming, the kind of absurd anxiety dream where something impossibly awful is happening and there is nothing you can do to stop it. While Gance was busy reinventing time and space, hurling cinema into the future, my ears were being bathed in shapeless placidity. Instead of being bound up in the rush of images, I sat in my seat as my heart sank through the floor. 

How was I meant to feel? What intention lay behind this choice of music? Why this sea of calm tranquility, this gentle hymn to God, this sense of exquisite grace and harmony? Onscreen, Gance explicitly compares Napoleon to Satan in the film’s final minutes – the “tempter” who offers the ‘promised land’ to his followers; and our knowledge that this hero is already doomed to corruption and to failure is suspended in the rush of promise that history might – could – should have been different, that the fire of the Revolution might yet inspire other, better goals. Yet from the Paris stage … Mozart’s hymn to God carried serenely, blissfully, indifferently over the fissuring, rupturing, exploding imagery on screen – beyond the last plunge into darkness, beyond Gance’s signature on screen, until – having reached the end of its own, utterly independent itinerary – it faded gently into silence. 

I did not understand. I still do not understand … In combination with the shrunken triptych, this musical finale seemed like the [most inept] imaginable rendering of Gance’s aesthetic intentions. (In the lobby afterwards, an acquaintance who was very familiar with the film put it more bluntly: ‘What a f*cking disgrace.’) … I still struggle to comprehend how [this finale] can have been allowed to take place at the premiere of such a major (not to mention expensive) restoration.”

German conductor Frank Strobel, a specialist in directing cine-concerts, has several Abel Gance films in his performing repertoire.

As part of the Paris premiere, German music director Frank Strobel conducted live orchestras (the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France for part one of the film, and the Orchestre National de France for part two) as well as the Choeur de Radio France. Maestro Strobel specializes in conducting silent film scores live with orchestras, including Gance’s La Roue presented in Berlin in 2019. According to attendees at the Napoleon presentation, Strubel led the combined musical forces with “immense skill.”

The premiere screening of the 2024 version of Napoléon was a cine-concert attended by an audience of 3,000. The event, presented at La Seine musicale in Paris, featured two full orchestras plus an eight-part mixed chorus. Frank Strobel directed the musical forces. Pictured onscreen in the photo above is actress Gina Manès in the role of Joséphine de Beauhamais, wife of Napoléon Bonaparte. (Photo: Valerio Greco)

Mr. Cloquet-Lafollye’s choice of music that he included in the 2024 soundtrack was noteworthy in that many selections were of relatively unfamiliar music. With the exception of La Tragédie de Salomé, Florent Schmitt’s scores could hardly be considered famous, and other less-known composers whose music was included are Benjamin Godard, Albéric Magnard and Philippe Gaubert.

Fabien Gabel

The new version of Napoléon is slated for worldwide release by Pathé Films and Netflix. French conductor Fabien Gabel was retained to lead the two French Radio orchestras plus Radio France Chorus in recording the 7+ hours of music for the commercial release of the movie. I had the opportunity to pose several questions to Maestro Gabel regarding making the  soundtrack for the film:

PLN:  How did you become involved in the Napoléon film project?

FG:  I was contacted by Radio France during the middle of the COVID pandemic. At that stage there was little specific information about the soundtrack except that the project would be colossal, and a lot of symphonic music would need to be recorded for the film. I think I was chosen because I have strong ongoing relationships with both Radio France orchestras that were being engaged. 

We recorded the music in the big studio located next to the concert hall in the Maison de la Radio.

Fabien Gabel records the massive soundtrack — 7+ hours of music — for the new 2024 version of Abel Gance’s film Napoléon. (Maison de la Radio, Paris, September 2023)

PLN:  What are your thoughts about the repertoire that was selected by Simon Cloquet-Lafollye for the new Napoléon release?

FG:  Simon’s work has been outstanding. He selected iconic works [from Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn and others] but also some nearly unknown pieces from various other composers – French gems but also some fantastic British composer as well.

PLN:  Why were two orchestras retained to record the soundtrack, instead of just one?

FG:  Two orchestras were involved because the amount of recording work was absolutely enormous – about 120 session hours all-told. The project was supported by Radio France – therefore it made sense to work with the two Radio France ensembles. In addition to them we also had the Radio France Chorus.

PLN:  How did the recording sessions go?

FG:  I must say that during our first recording session everyone – including me – was a little skeptical due to the difficulty of the project. But as it turned out, the musicians were excited about the repertoire and surprised to discover some very fine new music. And the movie itself is a masterpiece, with the musical selections fitting well with the imagery on the screen.

Following the July 4-5 Paris premiere of the 2024 version of Napoléon featuring the two live orchestras plus chorus, the same musical forces led by Frank Strobel reprised the performance at the Radio France Occitanie Montpellier Festival on July 18-19. National release of the movie (via Pathé Films) commenced thereafter, with afternoon/evening full screenings shown in French cinema houses throughout the month of July.

Next up, broadcast presentations of the film are planned for the end of 2024 and into 2025 on France Télévisions, as well as being offered worldwide on the Netflix platform in hour-long episodes. Movie and music buffs alike are looking forward to the opportunity to “see and hear” this great cinematic achievement — coming our way nearly a century after Napoléon’s first release.

Members of the quintet Le Bateau ivre. (Photo: Heyoung Park)

In my years of interfacing with professional classical musicians, I’ve noticed how frequently friendships that had been established during their years of study at music schools and conservatories have continued for decades thereafter, as professional lives intersect and opportunities to collaborate present themselves on a recurring basis.

Less common — but in some ways more remarkable — is the formation of “official” collaborations that extend for years into the future. Such an instance is Le Bateau ivre, a quintet of young instrumentalists based in France that has performed together continuously since being formed during their student years nearly a decade ago.

The five artists that make up Le Bateau ivre met in Strasbourg, France in 2016 – four French musicians plus one from Italy:

• Samuel Casale (flute)
• Séréna Manganas (violin)
• Valentin Chiapello (viola)
• Kevin Bourdat (cello)
• Jean-Baptiste Haye (harp)

The catalyst that brought them together was an opportunity to study and present the 1925 Quintet of Jean Cras in three competitions that resulted in prizewinning successes for the ensemble:

• Léopold Bellan International Competition (Paris, 2016, First Prize)
• Osaka International Music Competition (Japan, 2017)
• Lucca Virtuoso & Belcanto Competition (Italy, 2018)

With the support and encouragement of flautist Michel Moraguès at the Paris Conservatoire as well as teachers Luc-Marie Aguera (violinist) and Fabrice Pierre (conductor and harpist), the five musicians of Le Bateau ivre decided to continue playing together while also entering the ECMA (European Chamber Music Academy) program for European chamber ensembles in 2019.

In February 2020, the Quintet was invited to perform in a Générations France Musique broadcast, where they played the fourth movement from the Jean Cras Quintet:

In the ensuing years, Le Bateau ivre has continued to research, study and play repertoire featuring their five instruments — along the way concepting a number of intriguing thematic programs which have been presented to audiences in France and beyond.

Pierre Jamet (1893-1991). The harp soloist gave the first performance of Debussy’s Sonata for Flute, Viola & Harp in 1917 in the presence of the composer. In addition to his solo career, Jamet played in the Lamoureux, Pasdeloup, Colonne and Paris Opéra Orchestras and was a harp professor at the Paris Conservatoire. (Photo: Carl Swanson, 1982)

A significant focus of their attention has been the astonishing array of music that the noted French harpist Pierre Jamet commissioned from composers in the 1930s for his Quintette instrumental de Paris (later named the Quintette Pierre Jamet) – some 50+ commissions in total.

Among those compositions are Marionnettes, a piece composed by László Lajtha in 1937, which has been performed and recorded by Le Bateau ivre (alongside the Jean Cras Quintet plus Le Chant de Linos by André Jolivet).

Le Bateau ivre’s debut recording, released in 2022 on the Paris Conservatoire’s Initiale label, features works by László Lajtha, Jean Cras and André Jolivet that were commissioned by Pierre Jamet and his quintet in the 1930s and ’40s. Natably, it is just the second commercial recording of the Lajtha Marionnettes.

Florent Schmitt (r.) photographed with the Hungarian-born French composer, ethnomusicologist and conductor László Lajtha (1892-1963).

Besides those three composers, some of the other prominent musicians who wrote music for the Quintette instrumental de Paris included Vincent d’Indy, Albert Roussel, Charles Koechlin, Germaine Tailleferre, Marcel Tournier, Jean Françaix … and Florent Schmitt.

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s infectiously delightful Suite en rocaille for flute, violin, viola, cello and harp (1934).

In the case of Schmitt, the work he created was the four-movement Suite en rocaille, Op. 84, composed in 1934. It’s an irresistibly charming work that counts among the best-loved of Schmitt’s “intimate” compositions for chamber ensemble – on par aesthetically with his Sonatine en trio (1935) and the quartet Pour presque tous les temps (Quartet for Almost All the Time — 1955).

Pierre Jamet’s quintet recorded Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille in 1936, a year after premiering the work at a Triton Chamber Music Society concert in Paris … and it was Jamet’s own harpist daughter Marie-Claire who would make a second recording of the piece with her own ensemble of musicians some thirty years later.

Marie-Claire Jamet’s 1963 Erato recording of Florent Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille also includes works by Ravel and Roussel.

Along with many other compositions that they researched, the musicians of Le Bateau ivre read through Schmitt’s composition. Finding its writing complex, they set the piece aside for some years before returning to it in 2024 when concepting their newest themed program titled Echoes of a Secret Garden.

The second time around they found the work infectiously delightful – and substantive as well — its inventiveness and charms growing with each successive interaction with the score.

I have followed the artistic trajectory of Le Bateau ivre with great interest over the years, not only finding the quality of their playing uncommonly good, but also recognizing the ensemble’s obvious joie de vivre and undeniable audience appeal as an attractive performing group. I’d long hoped that they would add Florent Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille to their repertoire, knowing that the piece would ideally suited to their musicianship.

Consequently, once the announcement came that the suite would begin appearing on their programs in 2024 and 2025, I contacted the musicians of Le Bateau ivre to learn more about their journey with the Suite en rocaille, along with exploring their interest in other music composed for their combination of instruments, as well as their ensemble’s artistic growth and maturation. Highlights of our conversation are presented below. (Note: The interview has been translated from French to English.)

PLN:  How did the five of you meet, and how was your quintet established?

Kevin Bourdat:  We met in 2015 in Strasbourg at Samuel’s initiative. After discovering the Quintet of Villa Lobos, he first asked Jean-Baptiste and Valentin to work on the Debussy Sonata for Flute, Viola and Piano. After that, Séréna and I joined the ensemble.

Jean Cras (1879-1932), dressed in his French naval medical officer’s uniform. (ca. 1899 photo)

The first piece that we worked on as a group was the Quintet by Jean Cras, a piece that enabled us to win our first competition – the First Prize at the Léopold Bellan International Competition in April 2016.

This experience was a very affirming and unifying  one for the group, and it helped us move forward confidently with our further plans.

Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1941). This “shooting star” talent, destined to change the world of French poetry, penned Le Bateau ivre at the age of 17.

Jean Cras’ ​​unusual journey as a man and musician — his maritime and impressionistic universe — along with our shared desire to travel together on a fascinating voyage with little-known repertoire, led us to name our quintet “Le Bateau ivre” [“The Drunken Boat”] taken from the eponymous verse written by the pathfinding Symbolist French poet Arthur Rimbaud.

Le Bateau ivre (verse by Arthur Rimbaud, 1871).

PLN:  How did you discover the rarely performed Quintet by Cras, and what has been your experience in presenting this wonderful work to the public?

Samuel Casale:  It was while searching on the Internet that I came across this beautiful piece. Based on its fine qualities, Jean-Baptiste and I wanted to start with that work.

Jean-Baptiste Haye (Photo: Jeroen Berends)

Jean-Baptiste Haye:  We performed the piece for the first time in public in Paris at the Léopold Bellan International Competition in 2016. Happily, we won the highest award – the First Prize of Honor. The piece was warmly received on that occasion, and since then it has become a constant companion in our concert activities for almost ten years.

La Grande traversée, Le Bateau ivre’s musical show for young children inspired by the maritime and musical career of French composer Jean Cras.

Kevin Bourdat:  The piece is so familiar to us by now, we have been performing it without the score for several years. It appeals powerfully to the imagination and awakens very varied images – even in audiences not used to hearing classical music. It is also the work that inspired our very first children’s show, La Grande traversée.

PLN:  When did you first become aware of Florent Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille? What attracted you to this piece?

Valentin Chiapello:  Going back to our first year of study together in Strasbourg, in our search of repertoire we planned rehearsals where we simply read through scores, in order to decide on the ones that we’d want to explore in greater depth.

Samuel Casale: I remember that year when we did so much repertoire research – I think it was in 2018. Given its particular and unique character, we always wanted to integrate the Suite en rocaille into a program — even if not right away. And then for the first time last summer, we finally found the space it deserved in our newest program.

Valentin Chiapello

Valentin Chiapello:  Florent Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille was among the numerous works we encountered back then — but to be honest, its abstruse and difficult language challenged us at our first reading. It was only years later, after having acquired more experience working together, that we returned to it and managed to make this gem truly shine.

Samuel Casale:  I think what particularly attracted us was its “mocking nature” in the harmonies, combined with a remarkable instrumentation and use of counterpoint that is quite rare for our particular combination of instruments.

Valentin Chiapello:  One difficulty of the piece lies in bringing out the simplicity of the melody despite the highly complex and challenging instrumental counterpoint. Writing that might seem thankless at first glance — one wonders why the score is so difficult for a piece that comes across so simply on the ear – actually provides an inexhaustible richness to the work. The more we play it, the more the music reveals itself and the more we can appreciate it!

PLN:  I would like to know your opinion of each of the movements of the Suite en rocaille – what makes each of them particularly interesting, or even unique. Starting with the first movement Sans hate…

Séréna Manganas

Séréna Manganas:  This is the movement that surprised me the most in the suite. At first the movement didn’t really speak to me, but over time and the more I played it, the more I become attracted to its harmonies — the different parts – and the more I find real pleasure in interpreting and playing it.

Samuel Casale:  First of all, the carillon character of the harp with lots of high and crystalline sounds combines with haphazard harmonies to create a funny and even at times strange atmosphere. The rhythm combination of two sixteenth notes-eighth note is quite rarely used in classical music — and in this case it has an amusing aspect.

Kevin Bourdat:  From its very first notes I’m captivated by the magic that emerges from this movement, produced by the exquisite treatment of the instrumentation by Schmitt who gives the quintet a very particular flavor — clearly and deliberately in the lineage of French baroque music. The central part, which is a little less fast in tempo, is a jewel of impressionism chiseled with a subtle polyrhythm.

The first page from a vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille, published by Durand in 1935.

PLN:  What about the second movement Animé?

Samuel Casale:  This movement has writing that is at once “minimalist” and “orchestral.” It starts with a single note and opens up to very full tuttis. Once each of the different voices is revealed, this movement is a real treat to experience.

Kevin Bourdat:  Carried by its breathless rhythms, this movement is very stimulating when performed in concert. The cello part is constantly shifting from an almost percussive role to exhilarating lyrical flights.

Jean-Baptiste Haye:  This is the movement that requires the most work from me on the harp. I love the swaying side of the rhythm in 5/8; however, it is difficult to master so as not to “crush” the sounds and miss the harmony. It’s a delicate balance to strike between pulsation and lightness, despite the harmonic and melodic complexity.

PLN:  What are the special qualities of the third movement Sans lenteur?

Samuel Casale

Samuel Casale:  This movement has an uncomplicated theme that wanders between the instruments – a simple tenderness, intermittently mixed with mischievous episodes.

Séréna Manganas:  This is actually my favorite movement of the suite. I find it very figurative and even metaphorical. It engenders in me a feeling of lightness mixed with deep joy — and at the same time it conveys a feeling of nostalgia.

Kevin Bourdat:  I sense in this movement a wonderful evocation of the baroque minuet with its elegant hemiolas, yet without falling into cliché. The harmonies are very colorful and warm. By slowing down the movement to the figure three, Florent Schmitt turns the initial delicacy into a heart-stopping main course that calls upon the quintet’s full dynamic range.

PLN:  And finally, the last movement Vif?

Valentin Chiapello:  There’s this childlike melody that recurs throughout the movement that immediately made us think of a nursery rhyme that we could hum while walking or skipping.

Kevin Bourdat:  Valentin is correct – that initial gesture of this finale is disarmingly simple, where we can feel pure pleasure of playing for the audience, for the composer, and for ourselves.

Samuel Casale:  A spring song, I would say — little games of love and nonsense!

Florent Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille was created for Pierre Jamet and the Quintette instrumental de Paris, as this dedication in the score shows.

PLN:  Florent Schmitt gave some of his compositions interesting titles – sometimes with double-meanings. The Suite en rocaille could be considered one of those pieces. What might have motivated Schmitt’s choice of words in his title?

Kevin Bourdat:  By referring to 18th century instrumental music and “rock garden” designs from the same period, Florent Schmitt appears to be working in the neoclassical vein of other French composers of his time – particularly among the students of the Schola Cantorum – who were influenced by the repertoire of French classicism from Lully to Rameau.

Kevin Bourdat

However, Schmitt also plays on the pejorative connotation associated with the term “rocaille” from the 19th century onwards to distance himself from a blissful and nostalgic imitation. Instead, he appropriates and interprets baroque rhetoric with great freedom and creativity, while respecting the rhythmic unity within the movements specific to the dance suite. By referring to it himself with self-mockery a “suite de moins de quatre sous” (“Less than Four Cents Suite”), Schmitt takes the polar-opposite view of the grandiloquence of the post-Romantics and Wagnerians of his time.

PLN:  You performed the Suite en rocaille in public for the first time in Metz, France, in October 2024. How long did you prepare the piece before your first performance?

Samuel Casale:  We undertook three full rehearsals devoted exclusively to this music to ensure that we would render it well in concert.

Jean-Baptiste Haye:  It’s a piece that we put together rather quickly in preparation for the Metz performance, but it is one that we will continue to work on for a very long time. It is complex and rich in its harmonic and rhythmic writing and in the music it conveys. It is a score that requires not only group work but also “maturation” that only comes with time.

A poster publicizing the debut presentation of Le Bateau ivre’s new program Echoes of a Secret Garden in Metz, France in October 2024. The program “seeks to capture the flavor of the early 20th century salons of Paris, where leading figures of music, literature, the visual arts and architecture came together to weave a kaleidoscope of emotions and colors.”

PLN:  Do you intend to perform the piece in other concerts in the future?

Valentin Chiapello:  Yes of course! The piece is part of our newest program Échos d’un jardin secret [Echoes of a Secret Garden] that we intend to present on tour and to offer for a long time. It is a musical journey of well-being that allows for an escape from everyday life! It’s a program that enables us to take an excursion with the audience to a poetic “safe place” – a contemplative refuge.

The Echoes of a Secret Garden musical content is emblematic of Le Bateau ivre’s inventive approach to programming.

Séréna Manganas: Our immediate plans are to perform this piece and this program in Strasbourg, Vitry-le-François, Nancy and Paris in January and February 2025.

PLN:  Echoes of a Secret Garden is the kind of inventive programming that your quintet has been presenting for a long time. How do you go about researching and discovering the repertoire to include in your programs?

Pierre Jamet and his Quintette instrumental de Paris were responsible for more than 50 commissioned works by famous and not-so-famous composers. The ensemble presented 1,800+ concerts over a 40-year span from the 1920s to the 1960s.

Jean-Baptiste Haye:  Several steps are necessary to develop each program. We’ve done historical research at the BNF and Pierre Jamet Foundation in order to discover and determine the pieces that best catch our attention. From there, we typically design programs using two approaches – either starting with the music or with an idea. For Les Échos, we wanted to focus on intimacy in love, poetry and the visual arts.

Kevin Bourdat:  In this program, our objective is to create on stage an atmosphere inspired by the Parisian salons of the early 20th century where all the arts — music, poetry, painting, sculpture, design and decoration – interacted freely.

As with our other programs, the imagination summoned by the elements that we offer (texts, songs, paintings) allows us to weave links between the works and their socio-historical context while addressing subjects that are close to our hearts, such as the position of women composers and artists as creators in the case of Les Échos program.

Le Bateau ivre (Photo: Alexia Ferdinand, October 2024)

PLN:  What other special activities do you have in preparation for 2025 and 2026, including performances and possibly new recordings?

Séréna Manganas:  We have numerous concerts planned — some of them featuring Florent Schmitt’s piece. There is also the project of recording our next album, Les Jours heureux.

Valentin Chiapello:  We continue to diversify our approach to music with a Chanson française project featuring a vocalist and staging. We are particularly looking forward to this new project, as it is very exciting to get out of our comfort zones in the context of new projects and repertoire.

PLN: Is Le Bateau ivre planning any international touring as well?

The 2-CD reissue of nearly the complete discography of 78-rpm recordings made by Pierre Jamet and his Quintette instrumental de Paris (Timpani label, 2008).

Samuel Casale:  We have been considering a tour in Italy for a long time, which could see the light of day in the summer of 2026. Bringing our repertoire to North America, walking in the footsteps of Pierre Jamet and the Quintette instrumental de Paris, is also one of our fondest dreams!

PLN:  Do you have any additional comments to make about the Suite en rocaille or Florent Schmitt’s artistry in general?

Florent Schmitt photographed in 1937, a few years after composing his Suite en rocaille. (Photo: ©Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet)

Séréna Manganas:  We are very grateful to Florent Schmitt and the Quintette instrumental de Paris for having left us this piece – an absolutely unique and precious contribution to the repertoire for our combination of instruments.  The Suite en rocaille is a work full of hope and enthusiasm. It is wonderful for us to be able to present a piece like this, enlightening the present day through knowledge of the past.

Samuel Casale:  It was a pleasure to discover Florent Schmitt “up close” through this piece. We’re looking forward to presenting future concert performances of this music, as well as presenting additional chamber music by Schmitt in other formations.

_______________________

We are indebted to the intrepid musicians of Le Bateau ivre for discovering and introducing gems like Florent Schmitt’s Suite en rocaille to a new generation of concert-goers. Hopefully the quintet’s musical travels will bring them to the Western Hemisphere, were they will be met by audiences eager to experience their artistry.