Music lovers who know Florent Schmitt’s stunning Psaume XLVII (1904) might wonder what other choral music may have come from the composer’s pen.
Premiere recording of Florent Schmitt’s Six Choeurs: Gilbert Patenaude on the ATMA label.
And in fact, there are nearly 25 individual choral scores written by Schmitt, created over more than a half-century’s time.
None of them are nearly as famous as the Psalm, but they contain rich musical rewards and are well-worth discovery.
Interestingly, among Schmitt’s choral compositions are more than a few that are scored for a capella voices – as well as sizable number that are scored for all-male or all-female voices. In this regard, Schmitt’s choral output could be considered pretty unique.
A good case in point is Six chœurs, Op. 81. Composed in 1930/31, this set of six choruses featuring female voices presents a rich and varied blend of poetry and music that is highly characteristic of Schmitt’s musical and literary eclecticism.
Cécile Sauvage (1883-1927), French poet (and mother of composer Olivier Messiaen): Her verse inspired one of the movements of Florent Schmitt’s Six choeurs.
The music is set to the poetry of Paul Fort, Cécile Sauvage, Charle-Auvrey and the composer himself, making it a work of great contrasts.
The Canadian choral director Gilbert Patenaude has noted that in the Six Choruses, “symbolism, playfulness, tenderness and humor are blended together.” I heartily agree with this characterization.
The titles of the six movements are testament to the varied musical moods in store for the listener:
I. Le page et la reine (The Page Boy and the Queen)
II. Marionettes
III. Si la lune rose (The Pink Moon)
IV. Ezann
V. L’Amoureuse
VI. Canards libéraux (Broadminded Ducks)
Paul Fort (1872-1960), French Symbolist poet: Two of his poems were set to music in Florent Schmitt’s Six Choruses.
The Page Boy and the Queen, set to words by Paul Fort — a particularly favorite poet of Schmitt’s — relates a tale of adultery in medieval times: “A nice page boy came to pass, a nice queen came to sing,” contrasted with the dark thoughts of the king who is wont to punish the lovers.
Another Fort-inspired movement, L’Amoureuse, is one that is drenched in sentimentality, recalling the polyphony of the Renaissance.
Si la lune rose, setting a poem written by Cécile Sauvage (who was the mother of Olivier Messiaen, incidentally), is a lullaby to a newborn child: “If the pink moon came to dance on the hay …”
In great contrast, Marionettes, set to a poem by Charles-Auvrey, conjures up the spinning and whirling of puppets to masterful effect.
Paul Paray (1886-1979), conductor of the premiere performance of Six Choeurs in its orchestral garb (1933).
The two remaining movements, which are set to Florent Schmitt’s own texts, are little more than exercises in word-sounds and onomatopoeia. The nonsensical phrases and sentences are remindful of Sacheverrel Sitwell’s verses, so masterfully set to music by Sir William Walton in Façade.
The first performance of Six Chœurs was given on February 19, 1933 by the Chorale Amicitia with the Colonne Concerts Orchestra under the direction of Paul Paray – the person who premiered more of Florent Schmitt’s compositions than any other conductor. Director Marie Samuel prepared the chorus for the performance.
The French music critic René Dumesnil was present at the premiere, and he wrote his impressions of the music in a review that appeared in the March 15, 1933 issue of Mercure de France. In part, Dumesnil wrote:
René Dumesnil (1879-1967), a French physician, literary critic and musicologist who was a music critic for Mercure de France and later Le Monde. (1921 photo)
“In their modernism, the Six choeurs by Florent Schmitt nevertheless recall the key works of the masters our Renaissance. The freedom that Schmitt displays in the arrangement of the parts, the ease with which he moves the voices, the aptness with which the orchestra intervenes — whether accompanying the choruses or complementing and extending the human voices with a skillful and delicate use of timbres — everything is from a master indeed, and the material has never been more supremely mastered.
And what variety! … it is the mischievous twist on an old folk song … it is the evocation of traditional characters through a curious rhythm set in a 15/8 time signature … it is a calm lullaby accompanied by a gentle instrumental motif of archaic flavor … it is an adorable nocturne evoking the Orient in its vocalizations in thirds … it is a four-part choir, first a cappella, then with an accompaniment whose growing animation marks the progression of the turmoil in the soul of a lover … and finally in the Canards libéraux (whose lyrics are nothing more than a series of nonsensical onomatopoeias), it is the pure joy of rhythm and vocalization — the free flowering of a musician whose prodigious craft is at the service of the freshest, most original inspiration that is, in its fantasy, a most astonishing success.
Mme. Samuel’s Amicitia Chorale and Paul Paray’s orchestra gave an exemplary performance of this challenging score, which the audience rewarded with a triple encore.”
Félix Alphonse Raugel (1881-1975) was a French conductor and musicologist who established the Raugel Chorus, which was the “ancestor” of the Choeur de Radio France.
The same choral forces were employed for a subsequent Parisian presentation of the Six choeurs that happened on March 1, 1936 — this time with the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra under the direction of composer-conductor Philippe Gaubert.
And in December 1938, Manuel Rosenthal presented the work with the Orchestre National and the Raugel Chorus as part of an all-Schmitt program that was broadcast over French Radio.
The Chorale Amicitia, led by Marie Samuel, was an active musical force in Paris over several decades. The Chorale Amicitia performed with Paul Paray regularly; this 1950 program with Maestro Paray and the Colonne Concerts Orchestra featured the Chorale in Debussy’s Nocturnes. This concert was also Eugene Istomin’s debut appearance as a piano soloist in Paris.
The 1936 Paris Conservatoire concert program featuring Florent Schmitt’s Six choeurs, presented by the Chorale Amicitia with orchestral forces under the direction of Philippe Gaubert.
Shortly thereafter, Florent Schmitt prepared a version of the music for female chorus and piano, and it is in this form that the music is best-known. Moreover, the choral/piano version has been recorded twice to my knowledge, whereas the chorus/orchestra version still awaits its first recording.
The two chorus/piano recordings were made roughly contemporaneously. A Canadian release featuring Gilbert Patenaude directing Le Jeune Opéra du Québec was recorded in 2000 and issued on the ATMA label.
Florent Schmitt’s Six Choeurs: Original issue on the Calliope label (2001).
The following year a second recording, featuring Régine Theodoresco directing the Chœur de femmes CALLIOPE, was released on the Calliope label. Happily, that recording has just been reissued by Timpani Records.
The reissued recording on the Timpani label (2014).
While both recordings of Six chœurs feature quality performers, my personal preference is for the CALLIOPE interpretation, which is more spirited and brings forth the music’s many contrasts to more forceful effect.
As for the orchestrated version, the world awaits not only a first recording, but also any performance at all, as it appears that none have happened in the past half-century at least. I am aware only of a January 1950 performance by the French National Radio Orchestra and Chorus led by Roger Désormière and a March 30, 1952 performance at a Pasdeloup Orchestra concert directed by Pierre Dervaux.
But when the day comes for the orchestrated version to be presented again, no doubt music-lovers will be smitten by what they hear — considering that the instrumentation called for in the composer’s orchestration is lavish to say the least.
The instrumental forces called for in Florent Schmitt’s orchestration of his Six chœurs leave no question as to the vibrant musical colors the composer has conjured up for the listener.
In 1942, the music critic Robert Bernard made this observation about Florent Schmitt and his compositions:
“No musician is less bound than is Florent Schmitt by a formula’s constraints, and a substantial and significant part [of his output] is steeped in the most playful liveliness and an ironic verve that stretches to utterly paradoxical and truculent fantasy.”
Indeed, Mr. Bernard could have been writing about the Six Choruses.