“To appreciate this music fully, ready the hot tub, invite a few friends over, burn incense and uncork the wine you were saving for a special occasion.”

— International Record Review

One of the most intriguing pieces of music composed by Florent Schmitt during his “orientalist” period was the incidental music to André Gide’s new adaptation of William Shakespeare’s play Antony & Cleopatra.

The Gide production was no ordinary affair.  In addition to Shakespeare’s massive six-act drama, Schmitt’s music was set to dancers.  The famed dancer and dramatic actress Ida Rubinstein was cast in the role of Cleopatra, partnered with the venerable Édouard de Max as Antony.

Mounted at the Paris Opéra in April, 1920, critics praised the music but noted the excessive length of the production, which lasted until the wee hours of the morning.

Giving us a flavor of what the evening was like, the Paris correspondent for the American periodical The Living Age filed this account of the Rubinstein production for the magazine:

“A series of special performances of M. André Gide’s translation of William Shakespeare’s Antony & Cleopatra, with music by Florent Schmitt, has opened at the Paris Opéra.

M. Harry Pilcer scored a great success with his acrobatic dancing in the banquet scene; Mme. Ida Rubinstein was a Cleopatra whose charm lay rather in her statuesque beauty and grace than in any more profoundly personal reading of the character, but she conveyed admirably an impression of languid, Oriental capriciousness and contrasted well with the somber portrait of Antony depicted by M. De Max.

The scenes and mountings were lurid — a note of realism being struck by the presence in Cleopatra’s palace of three pure white peacocks and a young brown bear.

The music played an important part in the presentation of the tragedy, and contained some beautiful and striking passages of a symphonic nature. In fact, the score is quite independent in certain passages and is not merely designed as ‘incidental music’ — its real purpose being, in the words of the composer, ‘to create a state of mind, a mood and an atmosphere, and also to summarize the action.’

Hence [each] act is preceded by a prelude, and in this way a musical commentary is provided which gives a continuity of character to the action of the drama. The sea-fight, for example, is depicted musically during the change of scenes … the opening prelude and one of the interludes in Act II are of especial interest. M. Schmitt’s orchestration is generally highly colored, with a decided (though not exaggerated) Oriental flavor.”

Another detailed description of the production — and its shortcomings — was penned by the French playwright Henri Ghéon and appeared in the literary journal La Nouvelle revue française. Among Ghéon’s observations:

“[Regarding] the representation of Antoine et Cléopâtre, the main criticism I will make of this vast endeavor is that it lacked cohesion. Décors are of perfect taste and I congratulate Mr. Drésa. However, [there is] an absurd excess of accessories. Too much music [yet] too little … that is to say, too many large symphonic pieces but not enough small ones to weld the tableaux together. (I set aside the nautical symphony [‘The Battle of Actium’] which is colorful, vigorous and truly in situ.)

As for the interpretation, studied and combined down to the smallest detail it wouldn’t be far from having seemed excellent to me (especially in the Roman scenes) if the tetralogical abyss of the enormous Opéra had not literally devoured it. M. de Max had superb moments, M. Yoneî clearly drew Octave’s youthful and dry face, M. Bour was first-rate in Lépide; nowhere, in short, did we sense any “holes.” But all this good and honest work was diminished, canceled by the framework and — unfortunately too often — lost!

The performer who suffered most from these woeful conditions was the one who created them, Mme. Ida Rubinstein. We recognized the ‘ballerina’ by the subtle and skillfully concerted play of her body; we were surprised to find the ‘reciter’ completely cured of her accent and in possession of the rarest vocal means. But although it seemed to give to each word, each gesture and each intention of the text and to each curve of the song all their value and their venuousness … we had the impression that these chosen and regulated lines were unable to paint a portrait. Something wanted to come out that didn’t come out: Shakespeare’s Cleopatra.

Was it the fault of the optics? On a smaller stage, would the too subtle and too intelligent art of the main performer have less hermetically veiled her nature, her temperament, her genius? I do not know. But on the stage of the Opéra, this Cléopâtre lacked life, tragic power and reality — instead giving us only plastic joys. We cannot yet say whether Mme. Ida Rubinstein has the makings of a tragedian; we must wait for another test, in less barbaric conditions …”

Music critic Robert Brussel was also in the audience for the premiere, and his report for Musical America magazine’s July 10, 1920 issue focused primarily on Schmitt’s score:

“We cannot speak here of Mme. Rubinstein as Cleopatra — her acting is incomparable … but simply of the music of Florent Schmitt. It is certainly one of the most beautiful things in the production … 

The opening — so grave in design, so heavy, so charged with a weighty destiny — is the peristyle which befits such a temple. The prelude [fanfare] which presages the battle is really magnificent and cannot fail to find a place on future concert programs. It is surely worthy of it, for it has none of the faults that ordinarily characterize stage music. Schmitt’s robust art does not allow for gimmicks, and he proceeds by vigorous accents rather than by subtle touches …

The instrumentation of Antony & Cleopatra is thoroughly fitting. The ideas by which he expresses the characters and decoration are of the same nature as those of Salomé. The instrumentation achieves the same … effect: Brutal rather than cutting, the music befits the scenery and suits its objectives perfectly. It illustrates, it prepares, it completes …”

Louis Laloy, another critic, made an insightful observation about the characteristics of Florent Schmitt’s score, writing in the June 19, 1920 issue of L’Europe nouvelle:

“This music, very well-executed by the orchestra of the Opéra under the direction of Camille Chevillard, seemed to me vigorous, colorful, and imbued with a slightly fierce sadness which is perhaps the most personal characteristic of this author — and which had already inspired the best pages of his Psaume and La Tragédie de Salomé. It is a feeling that, rightly or wrongly, we take to be oriental and even Semitic.”

The Paris correspondent for the U.K. publication The Athenaeum had a reaction similar to Henri Ghéon’s regarding the production, writing these words in the magazine’s July 16, 1920 issue:

“The music specially composed by Florent Schmitt for Mme. Ida Rubinstein’s production of Antony & Cleopatra was the best part of this extraordinary ‘all-star’ theatrical acenture. The text, it is true, was Shakespeare’s (in André Gide’s faithful and, as it seemed to us, excellent translation), but the Shakespearian spirit was unmistakenly absent. Instead, we had a heterogeneous collection of ‘stars’ … who had consented to be cast for minor, even wordless parts; heavy, realistic scenery; a cage of white peacocks and a brown bear in Cleopatra’s palace; much changing of scenery and dresses; and immensely long entr’actes …

Last but not least, there was Mme. Rubinstein, in a succession of gorgeous oriental toilettes, impersonating Cleopatra. But one felt that she would have been more at home if she had decided to turn the play into a ballet — so beautiful was her performance from a plastic point of view, and so unsatisfactorily considered dramatically. M. de Max … was a rather too broken-down and hoarse-voiced Antony, but he contrasted grimly with the glittering Cleopatra and played with his usual intensity.

The whole thing, however, lacked cohesion, and cannot be considered an artistic success. M. Schmitt’s music, on the other hand, is remarkably successful; his score contains some pages of great beauty, and he appears to have been really inspired by the subject. The plan followed was that of introducing each act by a musical prelude, with one or more interludes during the changes of scene. The opening prelude was especially striking on account of the subtlety of the orchestration and the ‘rightness’ of the mood and atmosphere created.”

Paul-Louis Neuberth, a critic for Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, had the same reaction to the production, panning the staging while praising Schmitt’s music:

“The Cléopâtre by Florent Schmitt, our great composer and intelligent critic, did not achieve the success it deserved. The dancer, Ida Rubinstein, who had the play staged at the Opéra, was entirely to blame for this. She ventured great effort — even played some scenes with talent — but the Paris audience didn’t particularly like her style.

Cléopâtre is like all works created by Florent Schmitt: solid, rhythmic, plastic, broad music. We hope to hear it with pleasure in the concert hall; it surely deserves it!”

For his part, André Gide praised the music most effusively, writing to Schmitt:

“All that I had hoped for and waited for, I found in those pages … simple strength, depth and accuracy in the outlines, and that kind of expressive musicality which is so uniquely yours …”

Shortly thereafter, the composer took the music to create two suites of three movements each, which were premiered by Camille Chevillard and the Lamoureux Concerts Orchestra in October 1920. French essayist, musicologist and critic Adolphe Boschot was present at the Lamoureux concert and described the suites as follows in his review that was published in the February 5, 1921 issue of Revue bleue magazine:

“The fragments are of a very rich, creamy orchestral paste, with beautiful thicknesses that are a treat for the ear. Evocative, picturesque, this music carries within it the power that animates a fresco of sound in which Antony and Cleopatra come to life again.”

The two suites were published by Durand in 1922, under the same opus number (#69). Concurrent with the publication of the score, the music received its first performance outside France (in Amsterdam in October 1922).

Commenting on a 1922 Paris performance of the suites at the Concerts Lamoureux, composer  and critic Louis Aubert found in the music “Schmitt’s prodigiously rich and sometimes-savage instrumentation — and yet a deeply human quality.”

That same year, Willem Mengelberg presented a trio of episodes drawn from the two suites that were selected with the sanction of the composer and featured at a Festival of Contemporary French Music concert, performed at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam (October 1922).

Another of the conductors who took up the Antony & Cleopatra music early on was Ernest Ansermet, who presented the suites with his Orchestre de la Suisse Romande in Lausanne in October 1923 — its Swiss premiere.

Subsequently, portions of the second suite were presented in the first orchestral concert of the third festival of the International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM), held in Prague in 1924 — thus underscoring the high regard of Schmitt’s contemporaries regarding the music. Commenting on several of the orchestral numbers included in the ISCM concerts, critic César Searchinger opined in the June 19, 1924 issue of Musical Courier magazine:

“Florent Schmitt’s ‘Bachanale’ (from Antony & Cleopatra) and Malipiero’s Impressioni dal Vero, through not called symphonic poems, belong in this category. Schmitt paints the Orient in glowing and not-too-heavily applied colors. His music is often original and interesting as sound, though his melodies are too oily for my taste. After all, it is stage music — but still an effective ‘number’ for a symphony audience that likes variety. Malipiero’s three little pieces are of negligible musical value; the Sacre du printemps spooks about in the barbaric dance movement at the end. A ‘primitive’ from Sicily — I prefer the real Stravinsky.”

Antony & Cleopatra was introduced to Spanish audiences in 1926, presented by the Madrid Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Bartolomé Pérez Casas.

And in North America, concert audiences in Chicago and New York had the opportunity to hear the music during the 1920s in performances led by Frederick Stock and Willem van Hoogstraten.

A review of the 1924 New York Philharmonic performance of three of the suites’ six numbers was published in the November 8, 1924 issue of Musical America magazine. The “Pompey’s Camp” fanfare was singled out for particular praise:

“The [movement] is scored for brass and percussion only, and examplifies the meeting of Caeser and Antony with Pompey. Mr. Schmitt has done amazing things in this. The fanfares, different in character, meet and coexist but never mingle. They begin pugnaciously and fortissimo and, as the scene proceeds, grow gentler, dying away in muted strains as the opposing factions disappear to sup on Pompey’s galley.

It is music reeking of the male principal throughout: belligerent soldiers with chips on their shoulders attending to the world’s business, [with] all things feminine — including Cleopatra — far in the background. In spite of the fact that the French language feminizes the word for ‘army,’ Mr. Schmitt has here written music as masculine as the Gallic rooster which typifies his race.”

Evidently, the “Pompay’s Camp” fanfare was an excerpt that also appealed to Frederick Stock, since he included it as a separate offering on a set of Chicago Symphony concert programs in October 1937.

Subsequent performances of the fanfare extract have been done occasionally in the United States, such as at  the Tanglewood Music Festival in 1964 (played by members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra) and in Northern California in 1993 (played by brass and percussion musicians of the Kensington Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Lloyd Elliott).

The musicologist Michel Fleury contends that the two Antony & Cleopatra Suites are highly important French musical creations of the period, writing that they “deserve to figure, along with Daphnis et Chloe and Bacchus et Ariane, among the top French symphonic music of its time.”

And yet … Schmitt’s Antoine et Cléopâtre remains virtually unknown.

Two recordings exist – one long out of print (with Leif Segerstam conducting the Rheinland-Pfalz State Philharmonic), and a newer, more successfully realized version with Jacques Mercier conducting the National Orchestra of Lorraine.

But having the chance to hear them in the concert hall? In France of course — and often in the early years with such eminent conductors as Serge Koussevitzky, Gaston Poulet and Albert Wolff.

And later on more occasionally — with Paris performances in the 1950s and 1960s led by Manuel Rosenthal, Tony Aubin, Robert Blot, Jacques Michon and Rémus Tzincoca, plus presentations by Jean Giardino and Reynald Giovaninetti leading the Orchestre Philharmonique de Strasbourg in 1961 and 1965, respectively.

Since the 1960s, even performances in France have become rare, although Jacques Michon led a Paris performance in 1974, Michel Plasson conducted the Orchestre du Capitole de Toulouse in the Suite No. 1 in 1991, and Theodore Guschlbauer presented the fanfare movement from that suite with the Orchestre Philharmonique de Strasbourg during the same year.

But performances outside of France? Virtually impossible — until recently. In 2010, conductor JoAnn Falletta introduced the first suite to U.S. audiences by performing it with her two American orchestras, the Buffalo Philharmonic and the Virginia Symphony.

As is customary prior to her symphony concerts, Maestra Falletta spoke with the audience in her own inimitable way about the music on the evening’s program. Here are excerpts from her remarks about the composer and his music:

“Florent Schmitt is the most important French composer you’ve never heard of. He was a wonderful composer – he studied with Massenet and Fauré, and he won the Prix de Rome. He was very important in the first half of the 20^th Century. But we don’t know about him …

Schmitt happened to be going in a different direction than the prevalent French style at the beginning of the 20^th Century. The French at that time … were trying to create a cultural identity that was as different from the Germans as possible. If you listen to Debussy or Ravel, you hear them focusing much more on color and atmosphere, like their counterparts in the art world.”

And speaking about what attracted her to the Antoine et Cléopâtre Suite #1, Falletta remarked:

“[In this music, Schmitt gives us] panoramic shifts between the austere, pragmatic Rome that was becoming the center of the universe, and the sensual, beautiful Alexandria, the home of Cleopatra and her court. [It’s the great contrast between] sensuous and dangerous themes.”

The Suite No. 1 is in three parts: Antony & Cleopatra; The Camp of Pompey; and The Battle of Actium. I was able to attend one of the Buffalo Philharmonic performances of this music, and found that the conductor had changed the sequence of the music so that the second movement, a fanfare, was played first instead.

It was a master-stroke. Not only did it work extremely well musically – the quiet and reflective Antony & Cleopatra movement now sandwiched between the sinister Pompey fanfare and the savage Battle of Actium – it was also impressive visually as the full phalanx of Buffalo brass performers rose to perform the fanfare at the start of the program, creating instant audience buzz.

I agree with the Swiss/French pianist and conductor Alfred Cortot in his declaration that Schmitt’s score to Antoine et Cléopâtre is highly effective and very rewarding musically.  It’s well-worth getting to know.

For those who wish to sample the rich musical rewards, there are several YouTube clips of the Jacques Mercier recording available for auditioning, including these:

• Night in the Palace of the Queen, from Suite #2
• Orgies & Dances, from Suite #2

You can also listen to the entire composition while following along with the conductor’s score, thanks to a new upload on the Bartje Bartmans YouTube channel.

Content warning: You may be seduced!

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Update (11/18/13):  The two suites from Florent Schmitt’s Antony & Cleopatra have now received their first concert performance in Japan.  They were played by Le Square Orchestra, a Tokyo-based ensemble of non-professional musicians. Founded in 1996, Le Square presents two concerts per year — typically presenting very rigorous repertoire.

The November 17, 2013 concert was presented at the acoustically impressive Sumida Triphony Hall under the direction of Naotaka Tachibana. True to form, the program was a big one: In addition to Florent Schmitt’s music, the other works included on the orientalist-themed concert were the Dance of the Seven Veils from Richard Strauss’ opera Salome as well as the suite from Ottorino Respighi’s ballet Belkis, Queen of Sheba.

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Update (3/10/15):  JoAnn Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra performed both of the Antony & Cleopatra suites in concert in the first week of March, and also recorded the music.  The new recording will be released by NAXOS Records in November.

An upload of the Falletta recording of both suites, accompanied by the score, is available to view here, courtesy of Jean-Marie van Bronkhorst’s very worthy music channel.

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Update (4/1/18): In further proof that Antony & Cleopatra is re-emerging as a significant repertoire item, the fourth commercial recording of both suites has now been released — this one featuring the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sakari Oramo.

In the previous year these same performers had also presented a dramatic adaptation of the music along with major portions of Shakespeare’s play to London audiences at the Barbican, joined by actors from Shakespeare’s Globe.

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Update (6/9/18):  The Orchestre de Paris presented its first-ever performances of this music this weekend at the Philharmonie.

The program, which also featured “orientalist” compositions by d’Indy, Debussy, Ravel and Roussel, was conducted by Fabien Gabel, who has become one of Florent Schmitt’s most ardent champions.  In the past several years Maestro Gabel has programmed Schmitt’s music in the United States, Canada and Germany as well as in France.

Writing about the performance in the ConcertClassic music e-zine, critic Alain Cochard observed:

“Involving very large orchestral forces, the music is well-served by a conductor who knows how to approach an opulent score such as this – in the mysterious as well as the orgiastic – without ever giving in to any element of aural narcissism. 

This was sumptuous, colorful and intoxicating music that Fabien Gabel wanted to include on the program. We are grateful to him! It is time that … one of the very great French masters of the twentieth century is finally recognized for his value. It’s also high-time that French music discovery programs of this kind become more typical and spontaneous – in short, having a little less masochistic disdain for the treasures of our symphonic repertoire.”