Gabriel PIERNÉ (1863-1937)
Saint François d’Assise, oratorio (1909-11)
Saint François - Jean Giraudeau (tenor)
La Lépreux - Lucien Lovano (baritone)
Frère Léon - Bernard Demigny (bass-baritone)
Tenor solo - Raymond Amade
Soeur Claire - Berthe Monmart (soprano)
La Pauvreté - Jeanne de Faria (mezzo-soprano)
Lucia - Freda Betti (mezzo-soprano)
Orchestre Radio Symphonique de Paris et Chœurs de la Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française/René Alix
rec. 30 March 1953
L’An Mil (The Year 1000), a symphonic poem (1897)
Bernard Demigny (bass-baritone)
Orchestre National et Chœurs de la Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française/Jean Fournet
rec. 11 February 1964
Texts and English translations included
SOLSTICE SOCD392-3 [134:30]
Pierné’s oratorio Saint François d’Assise was composed between 1909 and 1911 to a libretto written by Gabriel Nigond. It formed part of a small, select group of his works written in the first decade of the twentieth century that took their inspiration from religious subjects. Rather than a simple chronology, Pierné, now nearly fifty, preferred instead to open with a prologue that charts St Francis’ youth up to the moment of his revelation and in the subsequent two parts the music concerns itself first with his teaching and then with his ascension.
This was an interesting period in French religious composition, or at least music written on religious themes. Max d'Ollone, born in 1875 and thus twelve years younger than Pierné, also wrote an oratorio on the same theme in 1910, precisely the same time that Pierné was writing his own work. Pierné had conducted the younger man’s Les Villes maudites at the Concerts Colonne in 1903 and whilst they may have discussed it, it’s more likely they chose the idea independently. It’s an obvious subject for the French oratorio tradition, which had earlier been established by Massenet, Gounod and Dubois and there’s much to be examined in French music of this period, the independences and inter-relatedness of composers such as d’Ollone, Pierre de Bréville, Pierné and even Charpentier.
Back to St Francis. Its ethos is broadly Frankian in sound, colour, and use of cyclic material but irradiated with impressionistic devices and Pierné’s own sensitivity to the text and the impulses derived from it. Francis’ youth is covered in a fifteen-minute prologue to which is added an eight-minute scene in which he meets Lady Poverty. The orchestration in these scenes is remarkably rich, the musical tone dignified and the choral writing aptly reserved. There is a sense of rapture, deepened by the evocative wind writing and by the songful passages for both characters; Jean Giraudeau’s Francis and Jeanne de Faria’s Lady Poverty living within a musical tapestry that aspires to orchestral song. The First Part of the work has three scenes – The Leper, Sister Clare and The Birds. There’s a beautiful orchestral introduction to the first of these scenes, with Pierné’s wind and harp writing especially haunting but as the scene progresses and Francis finally abases himself before the Leper and asks for his blessing, the writing reaches a pitch of fervour and almost operatic intensity. With the Sister Clare tableau comes Arcadian beauty and Berthe Monmart proves an admirable exponent, capable of refinement and declamation alike. The Bird scene has something of Strauss’ orchestral swagger and it reminds me in places strongly of Ein Heldenleben, which had been written just over a decade before. However, there is also the avian glimmer and shimmer; this is music of finesse and refined coloristic palette in the best Gallic tradition.
Full toned ceremonial glamour blazes in The Canticle of the Sun and, despite the small cuts in Part VI, Francis’ death emerges in a threnody of Franco-Wagnerian burnish, with important orchestral themes re-emerging in cyclical fashion, and so too the birdsong, as the veiled solicitous writing ends in a benign and consolatory Amen.
Throughout all this Giraudeau proves a noble exponent, and René Alix directs with compelling grace and a fine sense for the music’s pacing.
The libretto is printed in full. The whole of Part IV (The Stigmata) – which is the first section of the second part of the work - is cut in this broadcast performance. There is a cut in Part V and two further cuts in Part VI; the first is of these is an excised six-line chorus but the second is rather more extensive. Solstice’s thoughtful solution to this in the libretto is still to print these excisions but to change the type colour from black to grey when they occur.
Coupled with St Francis is L’An Mil (The Year 1000), a symphonic poem written earlier, in 1897 and received with acclaim at its première the following year under Colonne’s direction. The work is a kind of disquisition on the impending Millennium, a piece that encompasses fear as well as devotion. Like St Francis it is cast in three, albeit much more compressed movements, and is cyclical. By another neat coincidence, the conductor of this 1964 performance is Jean Fournet and it was Fournet’s performance of St Francis, which can be found on YouTube, that first alerted Solstice to the magnitude of this work and began the search which ended in finding an archive copy of Alix’s 1953 RTF performance.
This impressive triptych has two large-scale outer movements and a much more compact central one. In the opening, quietude sits uneasily alongside brassy outbursts and percussive vehemence. There are again Wagnerian elements underpinning the turbulence. The Scherzo is a subversive ‘parody Mass’ with punchy writing and a Bacchanalian aura. Violently unlike the outer movements, where a dignified use of standard Latin text applies, here we have a kind of verbal debauch: ‘Eho! Eho! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Hinhan! Hinhan! Orientis partibus…’ The work ends with a Te Deum Laudamus, earlier fears and madness having now become clarified in a movement of deep nobility as well as refined lyricism. The links with St Francis in these respects are also clear.
These historic performances have been excellently mastered and Solstice’s gatefold presentation is extensive, thorough, and enlightening. The cover art is also well selected. These are rare examples of Pierné’s vocal music and those attuned to his sensibility should be curious to hear both works.
Jonathan Woolf
Previous review: Stephen Greenbank
