Introducing Charles Quef: Forgotten master of La Trinité in Paris

The year 2015 marks the 150th anniversary of the birth of Pierre Kunc (1865–1941), possibly one of the most award-winning organist/composers in France’s musical history. Yet, despite his regional renown, as evidenced by numerous performances and prizes, his fame remained mostly local and limited to his lifetime. It seems unusual that any composer would enjoy such success and eventually be consigned to obscurity. The principal reason for his lack of lasting fame may be the lack of published music, as the bulk of Kunc’s output never appeared in print. Few of his awards offered the opportunity for publication; instead, they featured performances. The published materials in the Bibliothèque Nationale (BN) include several piano pieces, most of his organ works, numerous motets and Mass settings for voices, two transcriptions for organ, and his only two chamber works, the Sonate and Rapsodie, both for viola and piano. 

Not one of Kunc’s dozen or more orchestral works appears to have been published, nor are there any orchestral manuscripts listed in the BN catalogue. Certain works, such as Au pied des monts de Gavranie, suffered the typical fate of a new composition: they received their premieres and were almost instantly forgotten. But others, such as Été pastoral, enjoyed multiple performances throughout Kunc’s lifetime.¹ It seems likely that several works survived the ravages of World War I in France, as several pieces were performed both prior to and following 1914, but one has to question whether or not these were manuscripts or published scores, and if they still exist. It would be a great boost to scholars to have access to these scores in order to more fully analyze the music and Kunc’s contribution to the field.²

Born in Toulouse, Kunc began his musical training at home with his father, Aloys Martin, who was maître de chapelle at the cathedral in Toulouse, and with his mother, Henriette Marie née Dargein, who had studied piano with Louise Farrenc and organ with César Franck at the Paris Conservatoire. Pierre’s education continued at a Jesuit school in Toulouse, and later he pursued further study at the Paris Conservatoire, where he had organ lessons with Eugène Gigout, a lifelong admirer of Franck, and composition study with Ernest Guiraud, a winner of the Prix de Rome as well as a founding member of the Société Nationale de Musique. While in Paris, Kunc frequented concerts of the Schola Cantorum and developed relationships with some of Paris’s greatest musicians, many of whom were devotees of Franck, whose music clearly illustrates the influence of the Germanic school of Liszt and Wagner. This sphere of influence, coupled with Kunc’s devout Catholicism, may have influenced his style. 

 Little is known about Kunc’s personal life. He married twice, both times to singers. His first wife, Jane Gillet, was a former student of Kunc’s who performed with some of Paris’s finest musicians. She premiered several melodies of Guy Ropartz for the Société Nationale and performed a wide array of repertoire, including songs by her husband and brother-in-law, Aymé. Jane died from pleurisy in 1912. Three years later, at the age of fifty, Kunc married Elisabeth Tournier. That marriage lasted over twenty years before Elisabeth passed away from an illness she developed in 1931, which took her life some four years later. Neither marriage produced any children. According to his nephew, it was at this time that Kunc devoted himself to writing mostly sacred music.³ Perhaps this second devastating personal loss gave Kunc a reason to renew his interest in sacred music, turning to the familiar during a low emotional period.⁴

A very early review (1890) praises Kunc as a composer with a bright future, and notes that Kunc’s compositional ability might make him a future candidate for the Prix de Rome.⁵ Many of Kunc’s earliest musical compositions received reviews citing his stylistic kinship with Wagner. In his review of Kunc’s Prelude d’Helene, critic André Gresse claimed that Kunc was a disciple of Wagner, calling the orchestral work with voices that of a “real talent (réel talent).”⁶ This attachment to Wagnerian style remained part of Kunc’s musical vocabulary throughout his career, resulting in conflicting comments from reviewers.⁷ The extreme differences among them reflect the two prevailing schools of thought in Paris during this time. Some preferred the more Germanic style of symphonic music while others hoped that young composers would help give France a new voice, one that avoided Germanic styles and references.⁸ A review of the premiere of Kunc’s Été pastoral provides an example of the negative opinion, asserting that Kunc might best be a composer of “charming ballets and excellent pantomimes” rather than of serious music.⁹ Another reviewer, upon hearing this same performance, wrote that it was regrettable that a new work had so little to offer with regard to originality.¹⁰ In contrast to those comments, several reviewers praised this same work for its clarity, color, and great candor, as well as claiming that Kunc possessed rare qualities “not smothered in tricks.”¹¹ In an era where experimentation, creativity, and imagination were sought in new music, Kunc’s music may have seemed old-fashioned or outdated, so even the positive reviews were often lukewarm, such as this one from a concert of the Société nationale in 1906, assessing his vocal settings of some poetry by Camille Mauclair, pseudonym of Séverin Faust:

I am beginning to think that it (modern music) is a dirty trick, because the simple melody by Monsieur Pierre Kunc, titled “Complainte,” has given me great pleasure.  This musician appears to me to have chosen a poem quite suitable for music . . . I was less fond of the second piece, “Undergrowth,” but it does not lack originality.¹² 

However, in the same concert, Kunc’s performance of his Suite: Grand prière [sic] symphonique for organ was well received, though one reviewer did find the title questionable, as the work did not provide a prayer-like atmosphere.¹³

Kunc wrote in nearly every genre, composing works for voice, choir, organ, piano, chamber ensembles, and orchestra. It would seem he never stopped composing, producing a substantial body of work, much of which remains unknown, unheard, and unpublished. Throughout his career, Kunc continued to develop and hone his craft, and he enjoyed notable success. In 1900, he won a prize in a competition sponsored by the Société des Compositeurs for his Symphonie-Fantaisie, which he had completed in 1898. Pianist Georges de Lausnay performed the premiere with the orchestra of the Concerts Victor Charpentier.¹⁴ This work enjoyed many performances during Kunc’s lifetime, most often with de Lausnay as the pianist.

Four years later, Kunc survived the three competitive rounds of judging in the Concours de la Ville de Paris with his three-act tragedie lyrique, Canta.¹⁵ The work ultimately received a rather mixed review, one that referred to its energy as “snort[ing] with persistence,” and as being full of “clashing measures that sometimes compensate for emotion.”¹⁶ It should be noted that Kunc ultimately lost that competition to such notables as Charles Tournemire and Gabriel Pierné. In 1913, Kunc’s Symphony Pyrénéenne captured the Prix Antonin Marmontel from La Société des Compositeurs.¹⁷ Portions of this work received several performances over the next two decades, but it seems its first complete performance took place in Toulouse under the direction of Pierre’s brother Aymé in 1923, nearly a decade after its completion.¹⁸ Despite the ongoing war, or perhaps in honor of France’s accomplishments, Kunc’s Overture héroïque et triomphale premiered in Paris to favorable reviews at the Salle Gaveau in 1916, right in the middle of the global conflict.¹⁹

As late as 1929, Kunc, at sixty-four years old, was still entering his works in competitions and winning prizes, including the Prix Chartier given by the Académie des beaux-arts for a piece of chamber music.²⁰ (The award announcement does not give the title of the work; it may have been the Rapsodie pour alto et piano.) Two years later, Kunc was awarded the Prix Trémont (for a second time) by the Académie des beaux-arts. (The first time he won this prize was in 1909, when he shared it with César-Abel Estyle.²¹) Finally, in 1940, the year before he died, he received the Prix Jacques Durand from the Académie des beaux-arts for his Rapsodie for viola and piano.

Kunc’s music received frequent performances at the concerts of the Société nationale, an organization devoted to performing chamber and vocal works of young and upcoming French composers; many of these works received critical praise.²² Despite these positive reviews, many of his pieces languished in his library for years, while other pieces enjoyed numerous hearings. For instance, his Prélude to Les Cosaques, a play by Leo Tolstoy, was not performed until fifteen years after it had been completed.²³ By contrast, his piano piece, Rigaudon, which he subsequently arranged for piano and orchestra, received countless performances during his lifetime, and may have been among his best-known compositions. However, despite his local fame, numerous recognitions, and frequent performances, a great deal of Kunc’s output remains unpublished.²⁴

Kunc’s limited renown may be due to having come from a musical family, where his father Aloys and younger brother Aymé were extremely well known, so possibly greater things may have been expected. A review of the Quinze motets (1856) by Pierre’s father begins with this glowing statement: “If Monsieur Kunc was not an excellent musician full of verve and originality, we would tell him: ‘You deserve these words of praise, it is charming, gracious, and sometimes even brilliant.’” ²⁵

Aymé won second prize, along with Maurice Ravel, in the prestigious Prix de Rome competition of 1902, at the tender age of twenty-five. This honor catapulted him to great fame and well-deserved respect.

Although Pierre was a fine composer and musician, he suffered from being frequently confused with his brother. Two examples may provide a clearer picture of this awkward situation. A review in Le Ménestrel mentioned the pleasure of hearing the second movement of Pierre’s Symphonie Pyrénéenne, which was followed by a work of “his glorious brother, Aymé.”²⁶ (Another critic went so far as to claim that Pierre had been taught his craft by Aymé, who was twelve years Pierre’s junior!) One such confusion with his brother arose in 1922, during a search for a new director of the Conservatory of Nantes. Among the listing of possible candidates was Pierre, winner of the Prix de Rome, though this was likely a reference to Aymé, then serving as director of the Toulouse Conservatory.²⁷ Regardless of Pierre’s noteworthy abilities as a composer, he and his music remained in the shadow of his father and younger brother. In spite of these regrettable circumstances, Aymé appears to have been a strong supporter of his elder brother, conducting his music, including the aforementioned first complete performance of the Symphonie Pyrénéenne at concerts in Toulouse and Nancy.

Works for piano and organ

Since Kunc spent the bulk of his professional life as a teacher of piano and organ at the Ecole Sainte-Geneviève in Paris, it comes as no surprise that he composed a fair amount of music for both instruments.²⁸ His piano music was performed by many of the greatest interpreters of the era, including Alfred Cortot, Edouard Risler, and Blanche Selva. Kunc’s organ works (twelve in all) also remain little known, despite their accumulated accolades. Although Kunc won several premières prix for his organ compositions, not one of these compositions appears in the current concert repertoire. (Music of the other prize winners, Henri Mulet and Joseph Jongen, still appear in the concert repertory.) With his Libera Me: Pièce funèbre and Communion, Kunc took first place in the 1911 competition sponsored by the Procure générale de musique religieuse. Libera Me: Pièce funèbre was dedicated to the memory of his father; it uses techniques found in the music of the era, including thematic combinations, a technique often associated with Franck and Vierne. The order in which the thematic material appears creates the sense of a tone poem or musical drama depicting the human experience at the end of life (death, regrets in life, the fear of judgment, and the promise of redemption), as noted in the publication’s preface. The use of Gregorian chant themes pays homage to Kunc’s father, who was founder and editor of Musica Sacra, a periodical devoted to the Catholic Church and its music. 

In 1921, Kunc commenced work on his only organ symphony. Completed in 1923, the Symphonie en Ré mineur was entered into yet another competition sponsored by the Procure générale de la musique religieuse, and, again, Kunc garnered the premier prix. The work was published by the Procure générale the following year, and received its premiere at the Salle Gaveau in Paris in March 1924, admirably performed by Georges Jacob, to whom the work is dedicated. (Jacob performed many of Kunc’s organ pieces.) The work enjoyed several more performances over the next few years, all given by Jacob. The last documented performance of the Symphonie en Ré mineur took place in 1927, at a concert sponsored by the Union des Maîtres de Chapelles, once again by Jacob. 

Reviews of this symphonie were extremely favorable. Georges Renard penned an extensive article, which analyzed the piece in great detail.²⁹ Ultimately, it may have been this essay that aided in the disappearance of the work from the standard organ repertoire of the day, as Renard praised the work for its “Widorian concept of the orchestral symphony adapted to the organ.”³⁰ By 1924, the symphonies of Widor, which were the first of their kind, had been surpassed by the brilliant work of his pupil, friend, and former assistant, Louis Vierne, organist of Notre-Dame, who, by 1924, had published four of his six organ symphonies. It may be that the reviewer sought to place the work within the ever-growing genre of the organ symphony, but the suite-like structure initially used by Widor was, by this time, outmoded. However, the Kunc work, while containing traditional elements, certainly contains newer ones as well, such as cyclic thematic material, chromatic tonal language, and tightly controlled tonal relationships between the movements of the symphony. 

One unique quality of the Symphonie en Ré mineur is the structure of its opening movement. Usually Vierne and Widor, the principal organ symphonists of their day, relied heavily on sonata-allegro form or some version of a binary form, but Kunc introduces four themes in the work’s first movement, Fantaisie. Throughout the movement, these themes intermingle and receive diverse treatments, including rhythmic augmentation and varied harmonization; they undergo fugal treatment and imitation as well as modal changes. According to Renard, there are many unexpected events, including the return of the final statement of the first theme in the original minor key despite its having been heard in the parallel major mode for some time. 

The only other organ work that received significant mention during Kunc’s career is the Grande pièce symphonique, which he dedicated to his teacher Eugène Gigout. The work seems to have been part of a larger suite for organ, but this scherzo is the only movement extant. The piece appeared in 1901 as part of the series L’Orgue moderne, arguably the premier publication of new organ music by young French composers in the early part of the twentieth century. The work was played by both Alexandre Guilmant and Georges Jacob.³¹ Kunc also seems to have been taken with the music of his contemporaries such as Léon Roques and Camille Saint-Saëns, as he arranged several works of these men for smaller forces, including the Adagio from the so-called “Organ” symphony by Saint-Saëns, which Kunc set for violin, violoncello, harp, and organ.³²

Among the works for organ, some deserve special mention. The Grande pièce symphonique assumes the same name as the Franck work that is often credited as the composition that initiated the French symphonic organ school, but bears little resemblance to the earlier work. The Kunc work is in three large sections that together loosely resemble sonata form. The aggressive A theme is rhythmic and chromatic (Example 1). In contrast, the B section features sustained harmonies and limited chromaticism that abruptly becomes a fugato, whose subject uses the opening A material and then alternates with the B theme. A brief development section follows, which leads to a return of the A and B material, the A material in the tonic F# minor and the B material in the parallel major with just a few hints of the A theme
(Example 2).

Another noteworthy piece is the brief Adagietto in E Major from 1902, also found in L’Orgue moderne. This lyrical work utilizes some of the characteristic tone colors of the French symphonic organ, including the Cor de nuit and the Trompette harmonique. The closing section uses some rich and vivid harmonies, as seen in Example 3.

Choral works

Following the short-lived success of his Symphonie pour orgue, Kunc appears to have shifted his focus to chamber and choral music, though he did not cease writing works for large ensembles and even reworking music from earlier successes. (He extracted the Deux Danses hindoues from his Canta originally completed in 1900; this excerpt received glowing praise at its premiere some thirty years later.³³) During this period, Kunc composed two Masses for choir and organ (dedicated to St. Bernadette and to des Saintes Reliques—“holy relics”), as well as the aforementioned Rapsodie for viola and piano or orchestra (published posthumously). For several years, he served as maître de chapelle at St. Sulpice in Paris, where Charles-Marie Widor was still serving as organiste titulaire. Happily for Kunc, he was able to perform choral works that his father had written, as well as some of his own sacred music, while fulfilling his duties. His choral music seems to have enjoyed some local success throughout several regions of France, as many newspapers mention his works in their listings of music performed at religious services. Early works in the choral genre include the Hodie Christus natus est and Regina coeli from 1901. Several years later he composed settings of O Salutaris, Tantum Ergo, O Sacrum Convivium, Cantique de Communion, and Tota pulchra es (1910). Kunc dedicated these works to various maîtres de chapelle in Toulouse (his birthplace) and Paris (his adopted home). Kunc appears to have been well respected as a choral conductor, as a review of some sacred music quotes Kunc and comments that he is a connoisseur and an excellent musician.³⁴

In summary

Finally, Pierre Kunc proved himself to be a most well-rounded musician; not only did he compose and perform music, he wrote critically about it. He served as music critic for two journals, Le Guide musicale and La Nouvelle revue. He wrote at least three lengthy articles on various musical personalities, scores, and performances, including an insightful retrospective on the career of Charles Lamoureux, conductor and organizer of the Concerts-Lamoureux, and an extensive critique of a performance of Humperdinck’s Hansel et Gretel at the Opéra-Comique.³⁵

As a whole, Kunc’s organ repertoire, though small, admirably displays his competency as a serious composer. His entire extant output for his preferred instrument follows, with asterisks indicating the prize-winning works.³⁶

Grande pièce symphonique 

* Communion (in A-flat)

* Pièce funèbre

Douze pieces pour orgue ou harmonium sur des noëls français

Adagietto (L’Orgue moderne)

Sortie fuguée (L’Orgue moderne)

Marche religiuese

Entrée solennelle, Fughetta

Offertoire en fa majeur

Offertoire sur deux Noëls en si b majeur

* Symphonie en ré mineur 

Adoremus (et laudate)

Élévation

Kunc’s Symphonie en ré mineur is unlike many of its predecessors within the genre in its compactness—it has only three movements whereas a four- or five-movement design had been the standard. This brevity is intensified by Kunc’s use of a singular rhythmic idea, which supplies the momentum in each of the latter two movements. One might find such motoric patterns tiring on the ear, but the use of countermelodies and unusual harmonic progressions keeps the listener’s interest.³⁷

Sadly, much of Kunc’s organ music remains unavailable, though a few pieces appear in online catalogues. Both Kunc’s record of prizes and awards and fresh analyses of this works indicate an output of considerable musical merit, worthy
of rediscovery.

Notes

1. Among the orchestral works, one finds the Prélude d’Helene (one tableau appears to be in print in a British Library), Canta, Symphonie fantaisie pour piano et orchestre, Prélude (pour Les Cosaques), Deux Danses hindoues, Symphonie Pyrénéenne, and Été pastoral (premiered in 1905 and performed as late as 1943), to name a few. 

2. According to a personal e-mail correspondence with Francois Pellecer, Kunc’s nephew, whatever scores Pellecer possessed have been given to the Bibliothèque Nationale, though they do not as yet appear in the catalogue. The BN collection has six manuscripts of Kunc, all but one for piano. 

3. Pellecer, Pierre Kunc. 

4. In December 1937, the cathedral of Nantes gave the premiere performance of the Messe de Sainte-Bernadette (L’Ouest-Éclair, December 27, 1937, p. 4). 

5. Revue des Pyrénées et de France méridionale, p. 874 (1890). Kunc was awarded two first prizes from l’Academie de musique in Toulouse; one for an overture for orchestra, and the other for his song, Extase. The judges cited his work as being of a “modern and alluring style” and of “great originality. ”

6. Le Journal (Paris), February 25, 1895, p. 4, in a review of the Concerts d’Harcourt. 

7. A review of Kunc’s Diptych Breton lamented the need for young composers to “compose La Morte de Isolde” over and over again, suggesting that this music has already been written (Revue musicale de Lyon, vol. 7, no. 25, 1910, pp. 750–753). However, another review called the music “very evocative.” It claimed that these “pages of music were not negligible.” (See Le Rappel, March 22, 1910.)

8. A reviewer of a performance of some songs of Kunc lamented that “Kunc’s sin” was a vain attempt to develop the work in a pseudo-Wagnerian vain. (See Le Mercure musical, May 15, 1906, p. 471). 

9. Le Mercure musical, December 15, 1905, p. 546. Interestingly, this work was awarded a prize from la Société des Compositeurs in 1903. A more gracious review appeared in Le Matin (October 30, 1905, p. 5) immediately following the October premiere, though it too claimed that the piece lacked originality, possibly due to the Wagnerian influences that dominated much of Kunc’s music. 

10. Le Ménestrel, vol. 71, no. 43, November 5, 1905, p. 357. 

11. Revue Illustré, vol. 40, no. 23, November 15, 1905, p. 1. 

12. “Je commence à trouver que c’est un villain tour, et ce porquoi la simple et franche mélodie de M. Pierre Kunc, qui a pour titre “Complainte,” m’a cause un vif plaisir. Ce musicien me semble avoir choisi une poème tout a fait “musicable” . . . J’ai moins aime la seconde mélodie, ”Sous bois” . . . mais elle manqué par trop d’originalité.” Le Mercure Musical, 1906, vol. 2, p. 471 features a review of the Société Nationale concert of
March 17, 1906. 

13. Kunc’s work is properly titled Grande pièce symphonique. It was published in 1901 by Alphonse Leduc. So, it would appear, that the critic either misread the title or there was a misprint in the program. 

14. Le Ménestrel, vol. 69, no. 2, January 11, 1903, p. 13. The work is entitled here as Suite pour piano et orchestre with Pierre Kunc conducting. 

15. There were thirty-one entries in that competition; only six received awards and performances. According to Kunc’s biography, Samuel Rousseau considered the work to be “a little too Wagnerian.” (Pellecer, François, Pierre Kunc. Self-published, 2001). 

16. Le Ménestrel, vol. 70, no. 21, May 22, 1904, p. 162. 

17. Le Ménestrel, March 14, 1914, p. 87. 

18. Comoedia, April 16, 1923, p. 3. The review mentions that fragments had been performed at several of the Concerts-Lamoureux, but it was finally performed in its entirety in Toulouse, the composer’s hometown. 

19. Le Gaulois, January 3, 1916, p. 4. The work originally premiered in Toulouse as the Overture to Salammbô (see Revue française de musique, November 15, 1912, p. 110.) Interestingly, the overture had three movements (sections): Gloria, Luctus, Victoria, possibly due to the storyline of the Flaubert text. 

20. Académie des beaux-arts [Annuaire], 1929, p. 20. 

21. Le Journal (Paris), May 17, 1909, p. 7. 

22. Le Ménestrel, vol. 82, no. 23, June 4, 1920, p. 234; Le Ménestrel, vol. 84, no. 5, February 3, 1922, p. 49. The reviewer mentions that the composer achieved a happy balance between the dramatic opening movement and the flowery exuberance of the third movement in the Sonata. 

23. The work, premiered at Concerts-Colonne, received a positive review in Paris-Soir, March 24, 1925, p. 6. 

24. Francois Pellecer, Music et Memoria, Pierre Kunc (2001), www.musimem.com/kunc_pierre.htm. According to Pellecer, as of the publication, numerous works are still in the family’s collection with hopes of being published posthumously. 

25. “M. Kunc n’était pas un excellent musician, un artiste plein verve et d’originalité, nous lui dirions: ‘Ce que vous avait fait mérite des éloges; c’est charmant, gracieuse et parfois même brilliant.’” Revue de musique ancienne et modern, 1856, p. 776. 

26. Le Ménestrel, vol. 86, no. 23, June 6, 1924, p. 261. 

27. L’Ouest-Éclair, April 30, 1922 p. 4. 

28. Among his more popular works for solo piano is the Suite symphonie. The earliest documented performance took place at a concert of the Société national des beaux-arts in May 1906, performed by Jean Batalla (see Le Figaro, May 29, 1906, p. 5). 

29. Georges Renard, Revue Sainte-Cecile, 1927, pp. 103–104. 

30. “ . . . conception widorienne de la symphonie orchestrale adaptée à l’orgue.”

31. Le Mercure musical, January 1, 1906,
p. 317. 

32. Published by Durand et Cie. in 1924. Kunc also adapted Saint-Säens’ Laudate
Dominum.

33. Le Journal, February 13, 1930, p. 6. See also La Semaine à Paris, February 21, 1930, p. 16, and Le Matin, February 10, 1930, p. 5. 

34. Paris Musical et Dramatique, May 1906, p. 4.

35. See La Feu follet, volume 20, tome XI, no. 1, pp. 152–155, and La Nouvelle revue, May–June 1900, pp. 624–630. 

36. Pellecer, op. cit. He mentions Vingt prières but there is no record of them in the Bibliothèque nationale catalogue or
elsewhere. 

37. The reader is referred to the previously cited article by Georges Renard for more details about the work. 

An international concert artist and musicologist, Carolyn Shuster Fournier is titular of the Aristide Cavaillé-Coll choir organ at La Trinité Church in Paris, France (cf. www.shusterfournier.com). Dr. Shuster Fournier was recently awarded the distinction of Chevalier in the Order of Arts and Letters. This is her fourth article to appear in The Diapason.

This article is dedicated to my friend Jacqueline Englert-Marchal, the daughter of André Marchal, and in memory of her husband Giuseppe.
Son royaume n’était pas de ce monde, car la musique touche à de vastes et mystérieux univers. Il vivait dans ce royaume féerique; il en était un des génies et son oeuvre variée, touffue, protectrice, ressemble à ces grands chênes séculaires qui, dans leurs frondaisons, abritent des peuples d’oiseaux.

[His realm was not of this world, because music touches vast and mysterious universes. He lived in this magical realm; he was one of those geniuses and his works, varied, complex, protective, resemble large age-old oak trees which, in their foliage, shelter birds of all kinds.]
Ermend Bonnal's tombstone inscription (by Pierre d'Arcangues)1

His musical formation in Bordeaux

Joseph Ermend Bonnal2 (Bordeaux, July 1, 1880-Bordeaux, August 14, 1944) was born into a musical family. His father, Jean-Emile Bonnal (born in 1851), was an amateur violinist who invited his friends to his home twice a week to play chamber music (Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, etc.). He began to give his son music lessons when he was five years old, starting him on piano at the age of seven (like his younger sister Marthe). At age 12, Ermend Bonnal entered Gaston Sarreau's piano class at the Bordeaux Conservatory and gave his first public recital the following year, performing one of the solos in J. S. Bach's Concerto for Two Pianos in C minor. "Irresistibly drawn towards the organ,"3 he began on his own to learn several of J. S. Bach's preludes and fugues.
While continuing his musical studies, Bonnal received a general education and excelled notably in the field of literature and classical humanities. In 1894, at age 14, Bonnal met Charles Tournemire (1870-1939) on vacation with his family in Bordeaux, his home town.4 Bonnal knew that he was in the presence of an exceptionally talented artist who was animated by high ideals. In appreciation of Bonnal's vast culture and musical talents, Tournemire offered him continuous encouragement and advice. He provided him with a solid organ technique, enabling him to become a substitute organist at Saint-Pierre Church in Bordeaux, where he himself had been organist at the age of 11.
In 1895, Tournemire dedicated to Bonnal one of his Six Piano Pieces, Op. 20: Le Ménétrier [The Strolling Fiddler].5 The title of this Allegretto in D major, a highly rhythmical musette, certainly referred to Bonnal's father. In 1895-96, Bonnal composed three organ verses for the liturgical services at Saint-Pierre Church: according to their manuscripts,6 the first one, a commentary on the third verse of the Magnificat in E-flat major, is based on a popular theme that he had notated during one of his trips to Tournemire's home on the Ouessant Island (in the Finist√®re, the western province of Brittany); the two others (respectively completed in May, 1895 and on November 2, 1896) were written for the Holy Thursday evening service, during which the organist responds in G minor or in B-flat major to the Pange Lingua hymn.

The Paris Conservatory

Destined for a musical career by age 17, Bonnal was admitted into Charles Wilfred de Bériot's (1833-1914) piano class at the Paris Conservatory on October 25, 1897. Tournemire had studied with him ten years earlier. Knowing Bonnal's desire to become an organist, Tournemire continued to give him organ lessons so that he could leave Bériot's piano class and enter Alexandre Guilmant's organ class in 1898. He also studied composition with Gabriel Fauré.
Guilmant (1837-1911) had developed an international career as an eminent concert organist, an excellent liturgist, and a strict, disciplined professor. His eclectic repertory, his knowledge of organ building, and his colorful registrations opened up endless avenues of lifelong discoveries for Bonnal and his fellow students: Louis Andlauer (1876-1915), Emile Aviné (born in 1879), Augustin Barié (1883-1915), Auguste Bernard (born in 1877), Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979), Joseph Boulnois (1884- 1918), Felix Fourdrain (1880-1923), René Vierne (1878- 1918).7 They all had studied with Louis Vierne (1870-1937), the assistant of the organ class since 1894. Vierne was quite aware of Tournemire's strong ties with Bonnal.
In October 1901, Joseph Bonnet (1884-1944), another of Tournemire's private students from Bordeaux,8 entered Guilmant's class. Bonnal was four years older than Bonnet, and they were undoubtedly friends since their youth. Bonnal had written the critique for the concert Bonnet had given on April 17, 1901, at Saint-Michel Church in Bordeaux, where he was organist. They remained close friends throughout their entire lives.
In July 1903, Ermend Bonnal and Nadia Boulanger were both awarded the Second Prize in Organ at the Paris Conservatory. During this period, Tournemire wrote to Bonnal's father to assure him that his son would successfully win a First Prize the following year: "[Il] travaille remarquablement . . . et il est doué admirablement." ["[He] does outstanding work . . . and he is wonderfully talented."]9 In 1904, Tournemire faithfully continued to give Bonnal daily lessons to prepare him for his First Prize in Organ (Interpretation and Improvisation) at the Paris Conservatory, which crowned his studies there in July. According to Bonnal:

Quel merveilleux professeur d'improvisation était cet être possédé par la joie de créer librement, spontanément.
. . . je recevais de lui une leçon quotidienne. Il me préparait des thèmes soigneusement élaborés et souvent remplis d’embûches. Quelle n’était pas sa joie quand je parvenais à en triompher, ou lorsque je réussissais un bon développement, une jolie rentrée, une modulation imprévue! C’était alors en guise de récompense, une promenade . . . sans préjudice d’un bon petit dîner.
Dans ces escapades, Tournemire n’était plus pour moi qu’un camarade aussi, gai, aussi primesautier que je l’étais moi-même, avec dix ans de moins que lui.10

[What a marvelous improvisation professor, possessed by the joy of creating with freedom and spontaneity.
. . . I received daily lessons from him. He carefully prepared elaborated themes for me to improvise on, which were filled with pitfalls. He was filled with joy when I successfully came up with a good development, a beautiful recapitulation of the theme, an unforeseen modulation! To reward me, we went for a walk . . . and then enjoyed a good, small dinner together.
During these jaunts, he was a gay companion, as impulsive as I was, ten years his junior.]

His early compositions

In addition to giving Bonnal organ lessons in interpretation and improvisation, Tournemire also taught him composition. In 1898, Tournemire encouraged him to become an active member of the Société des Compositeurs de Musique. Between 1900-1902, Tournemire dedicated an Offertoire in G major, Op. 21, no. 5, to Bonnal. It appeared in a collection of 40 Pieces for the harmonium entitled Variae Preces, which were edited by Janin in Lyon in 1904.
In 1902, Bonnal composed a Petite Rapsodie sur un theme Breton, Op. 6. Dedicated to Guilmant, Bonnal had nevertheless noted down “this popular theme at Conquet—in the Finistère, during a trip to the Ouessant Island.”11 The essentially impressionistic style of this work marks a stylistic break with his earlier three Verses. Again, Tournemire’s influence on Bonnal was quite strong: Tournemire’s own work, Le Sang de la Sirène [The Siren’s Blood], Op. 27, which won a prestigious music competition sponsored by the city of Paris in 1902, was based as well on a legend from Brittany that was set on the Ouessant Island. It also included modal themes.
Bonnal had been fond of the Landes since his childhood vacations in Arcachon and developed a lifelong passion for this picturesque region. Like Charles Bordes (1863–1909), Bonnal was one of the first musicians to incorporate popular Landes traditional songs into his compositions: three such popular themes appear in this work. In 1903, Bonnal composed his Rapsodie landaise for piano and orchestra. He dedicated it to a pianist from the Landes, Francis Planté (1839–1934), who performed it often. This important creation won the Second Prize of the Society of Music Composers, which awarded both Bonnal and Nadia Boulanger their Prix Tolède in 1905.
Bonnal's Paysages landais [Landscapes from the Landes] for organ had been published by A. Durand & Fils in 1904. On January 26, 1905, Bonnet premiered it on the E. & J. Abbey organ12 in the large Salle Pleyel concert hall in a concert organized by the Society of Music Composers. Dedicated to Tournemire, this piece in G minor begins with a Franck-like melody on the Swell Trumpet. After a brief interlude on the Voix Celeste, the theme appears in the tenor on the Positive Gambe coupled to the Great Harmonic Flute; it is then developed on the Great with the Swell foundation stops added, leading to a high D-sharp in the Pedal, which becomes an E-flat. (See Example 1.) The final section begins on the Voix Celeste, with a bell-like motive in the Pedal on soft 16' and 4' Flute stops, then ends peacefully on the Swell Bourdon 8'.
Bonnal's Reflets solaires [Solar Reflections], Op. 17 (completed in April, 1905), was composed in this same spirit. It was dedicated to and premiered by Bonnet on March 17, 1906, on the Mutin organ at the Schola Cantorum (in a concert organized by Société nationale de musique). The program of Bonnet's concert at Saint-Eustache Church on January 22, 1911, describes this piece:

En pleine justification de son titre, ce morceau nous dépeint les jeux et les rythmes du soleil dans les vitraux d’une rosace, sans toutefois que cet impressionnisme nuise en rien à une construction nettement musicale. Deux thèmes de caractères opposés, le second présenté avec insistance dans la forme canonique.

[In full justification of its title, this piece depicts the reflections and rhythms of the sun in stained glass rose windows, without allowing this impressionism to hinder the clearly constructed musical form. Two themes of opposing character, the second presented insistently in the canonic form.] Bonnet provided yet another dimension of this work, in the program notes of a concert he gave in Bayonne in 1930:

Cette pièce d’un grand lyrisme semble évoquer à nos yeux, le matin de Pâques: “Le premier jour qui suit le Sabbat, les Saintes Femmes vinrent au sépulcre alors que le Soleil était déjà levé,” dit l’Evangile du jour. Le deuxième thème est traité en variations canoniques fort savoureuses, écrites avec une grande souplesse de contrepoint.

[This highly lyrical piece seems to evoke a vision of Easter morning: "The first day following the Sabbath, the Holy Women came to the tomb when the Sun had already arisen," as is written in the Gospel for the day. The second theme is treated in some quite enjoyable canonic variations, written with much supple counterpoint.]

In September 1908, Bonnal composed in Switzerland his Four Pieces, Opus 26, for organ or harmonium:13 Allégresse (dedicated to Félix [Alexandre] Guilmant), Prière et Choral (in memory of Samuel Rousseau, with an additional version for organ and string quintet), Petit canon (to Placide Thomas), and Petit Pastorale (to his mother). To supplement his income, Bonnal, under the pseudonym of Guy Marylis, began composing dance music for piano—waltzes, ragtimes, tangos—which was quite popular in Paris at the turn of the century.

His early church positions

Thanks to Tournemire, Bonnal substituted for him in various Parisian parishes (notably for the Vesper services): at Saint-Nicolas-du-Chardonnet Church (beginning in Decembre 1897) and at Sainte-Clotilde Basilica (following Tournemire’s nomination as titular there, on Easter, 1898). Tournemire also arranged for Bonnal to become, in 1899, the official substitute organist at Saint-Séverin Church for Albert Périlhou (1846–1936), who played there until 1914 (along with Camille Saint-Saëns). In 1901, Bonnal was named titular at Saint-Médard Church, succeeding Maurice Blazy, who had been titular there from 1892 to 1901.14 In 1903, Bonnal was appointed choirmaster at Notre-Dame Church in Boulogne-sur-Seine (actually Boulogne-Billancourt).

His first concerts

Bonnal performed concerts on both piano and organ. As a pianist he often performed chamber music, notably his Sonata for violin and piano15; already in 1897 he performed an Allegro (certainly its first movement) in Tournemire’s home, 91, rue de Rome; Bonnal performed often with the violinist and musicologist Eugène Borrel (1876– 1962). He also gave a concert with the organist Henri Letocart (1866–1945) for the Saint-Jean Society (for the Encouragement of Christian Art) in the workshop of the sculptor Edmond de Laheuderie. In 1912, Bonnal created La Quinte, a string quartet with piano, which gave chamber music concerts for over ten years.
In his solo organ recitals, Bonnal performed an eclectic repertory: in addition to works by J. S. Bach and César Franck, he performed his own works as well as those by his contemporaries. Two of his concerts at Saint-Pierre Church in Bordeaux give us a good idea of his programs:

August 18, 1899: J. S. Bach, Toccata and Fugue in D minor
J. Ropartz, On a Theme from Brittany
S. Rousseau, Trio
C. Tournemire, Symphonic Piece
A. Guilmant, Invocation
C. Franck, Third Choral
L. Vierne, Final from the First Symphony

January 16, 1903:
Vivaldi/J. S. Bach, Concerto in A minor
A. Guilmant, Communion
C. Franck, Final
C. Tournemire, Capricietto and Ite Missa est (from his 40 Pieces for the Harmonium, Op. 21).

On March 1, 1910, Bonnal performed three of his own Four Pieces, Op. 26 (all but the second) in a concert organized by the Saint-Jean Society in Paris.
Ermend Bonnal performed on the 15-stop house organ, built by Charles Mutin in 1909 for the home of Count Bérenger de Miramon Fitz-James (1878-1952). He lived on the Dumont-d'Urville Street in the sixteenth district in Paris. He invited young artists with a First Prize in organ from the Paris Conservatory to give concerts with the quartet Gaston Poulet and the violinist Joseph Calvet, both close friends of Bonnal. The Count imposed "a religious silence that was appropriate for such events."16
Bonnal's clear, distinct playing was due to the fact that underneath his absolutely legato melodic lines, he repeated certain notes in the accompaniment. This procedure is evident in many of his organ compositions, such as in his Reflets solaires, in the following passage when the left hand plays the melody on the Positive Clarinet while the right hand accompanies on the 8' and 4' foundation stops with 16' and 8' stops in the Pedal. (See Example 2.) Bonnal was renowned as a stunning improviser, even on small organs, such as the one-manual Gaston Maille five-stop organ at Saint-Léon Church in Anglet (near Biarritz).17 While Bonnal highly approved of improvisations in church services, even considering them to be obligatory for all organists, he did not believe that most people were talented enough to improvise during a recital and that the musical result was often quite poor.18

His departure for Bordeaux and Bayonne

On August 19, 1903, Bonnal married a second cousin, Suzanne Bonnal, a professor of voice. They had two children. What a coincidence that Tournemire also married in this same year, on November 5, to his student Alice Georgina Taylor (1870-1919). Although Bonnal seems to have earned an adequate living, he needed to solidly support his family. Impassioned by teaching, he began to apply for positions as a conservatory director. Louis Vierne, who had dedicated his Canzona to Bonnal in 1913, regretted that he had not pursued a concert career:

Avec Ermend BONNAL, nous regagnons des sphères élevées. Voilà un musicien des plus personnels, un poète ému par la nature, un être d’une sensibilité profonde et émouvante. Ce grand modeste, artiste dans l’âme, est Bordelais—comme TOURNEMIRE et BONNET—et il montre que Bordeaux enfante des êtres généreux. Son passage à la classe de GUILMANT fut celui d’un beau travailleur, doué également pour l’improvisation et l’exécution. Il sortit avec un premier prix sensationnel; jamais je n’ai compris pourquoi il ne fit pas une grande carrière d’instrumentiste; il avait tout ce qu’il fallait pour cela. Comme compositeur, il révéla un tempérament tout à fait original, exprimant sa pensée dans un style hardi mais nullement excentrique; en ce qui regarde spécialement l’orgue, il écrivit tout de suite des pièces significatives comme Reflets solaires, par exemple.19

[With Ermend Bonnal we return to higher realms. Here is a musician with very personal gifts, a poet deeply moved by nature, a man with deep and moving sensitivity. This grand and modest artist from Bordeaux—like Tournemire and Joseph Bonnet—proves that this city has given us people who are generous. While in Guilmant's class, he was a hard worker, equally talented in improvisation and in interpretation. He left with a sensational First Prize; I never understood why he did not pursue a brilliant career as an instrumentalist; he had all one needed for that. As a composer, he revealed a great deal of originality, expressing his thoughts with boldness, but by no means in an eccentric manner. Concerning the organ in particular, he wrote right away some significant pieces, such as the Solar Reflections.]

In spite of Bonnal's robust physical condition, his constant good nature, his appreciation of good wine and gourmet meals, the asthma attacks that he had endured since his childhood had become more violent. In 1914, this illness exonerated him from enlisting in the armed forces. In addition, he was becoming deaf. According to Norbert Dufourcq, Bonnal possessed

une intelligence supérieure, une culture des plus vastes, un coeur exquis et cette haute et noble silhouette . . . et ses yeux lumineux et bons, qui parfois reflétaient une naïveté d’enfant, parfois la douleur de celui qui n’entend pas.20

[a superior intelligence, a very vast culture, an exquisite heart and this noble silhouette . . . with enlightened and warm eyes, which sometimes reflected a childlike na√Øveté, sometimes the pain of those who do not hear.]
Fortunately, an effective hearing aid enabled him to continue his musical career.
Due to his chronic asthma, in 1914 Bonnal returned to settle in Bordeaux, where he was named titular organist at Saint-Michel Church. In 1915, he gave over 100 benefit concerts throughout France for the Red Cross. From 1916-1920, Bonnal presented a series of organ recitals each Sunday at his church, during the mass at 11:15 a.m., like those of Bonnet at Saint-Eustache in Paris. In spite of the war, over 100 concerts were announced in the papers and their programs were printed. Bonnal performed an immense repertory, from the Baroque and Classic periods (works by Frescobaldi, Zipoli, Bach, Buxtehude, Pachelbel, Walther, Clérambault, de Grigny, Roberday, Mozart) to the contemporary period, with numerous premiere performances (of pieces by A. Barié, E. Bernard, P. Dukas, H. Mulet, A. Périlhou, C. Quef, F. Schmitt, D. de Séverac, F. de la Tombelle, L. Vierne). His playing fascinated and inspired the young Henri Sauguet (1901-1989), who discovered Franck's organ works.

Son jeu me fascinait. Je lui dois d’avoir entendu, pour la première fois, l’oeuvre intégrale de César Franck qu’il interprétait d’une manière incomparable, inoubliable dans sa grandeur, sa conception, de virtuosité, et de richesse des registrations qui lui étaient personnelles. Il m’a révélé la savoureuse et exquise littérature des oeuvres des organistes français des XVIIe et XVIIIe et tant de pages immortelles de Bach. . . . Il fut l’un des premiers à donner à l’orgue contemporain une richesse harmonique, un éventail de nuances, une variété de registres saisissants et qui devait plus tard ouvrir la voie à un Olivier Messiaen, par exemple.21

[Thanks to Bonnal, I had the privilege of listening to the entire works of Franck for the first time, which he interpreted in an incomparable manner, unforgettable for their greatness, their conception, their virtuosity and their rich registrations. . . . His tasteful and exquisite interpretations of works by French organists from the 17th and 18th centuries and countless immortal pages of Bach were a revelation to me. . . . He was one of the first to give to the contemporary organ a harmonic richness, a wide range of nuances, a variety of fascinating stops, which later prepared the way for an Olivier Messiaen, for example.]

On December 28, 1919, Bonnal premiered his Noël landais in a concert at Saint-Michel Church. According to the program, Bonnal wanted to give its original theme a simple character and invoke the call of the shepherds during their march towards the star. This piece, composed in 1918 and published by Durand in 1938, was dedicated to Mademoiselle Jehanne Paris, organist of Sainte-Eugénie Church in Biarritz. During this period, Bonnal also composed numerous religious songs for voice and organ or harmonium (occasionally with violin and/or harp)‚Äîmany settings of Ave Maria, O Salutaris, etc.
The year 1920 was a crucial turning point in Bonnal's life. His first wife died of tuberculosis in May. Thankfully, Bonnal accepted the city of Bayonne's proposition to direct their School of Music, situated in the heart of the Basque region, which Bonnal loved dearly; he remained there for 21 years, until 1941. In addition to fulfilling his functions at the conservatory, he continued to compose, to teach and to play chamber music: in 1922, he founded the Société des Amis de la Musique; in 1931, he conducted the L'Association des Concerts Jean-Philippe Rameau as well as Les Chanteurs de la Renaissance, an orchestra of more than 70 professional and amateur musicians. Due to his demanding occupations, Bonnal no longer composed for the organ.
In 1921, Bonnal remarried, to Hélène Chevenot, an art historian, a pianist and singer who was very religious. They had nine children.22 Their home, the villa Amentcha (the "house of dreams"), was continuously open to visiting artists from all over the world.

His mature compositions, influenced by the Landes

Bonnal continued to compose works based on Basque folklore themes: in 1921, his Chansons dans le style landais; in 1929, his Chansons d’Agnoutine—a cycle based on texts by Loÿs Labèque, a poet from the Landes. Among his chamber works, his two string quartets (1925 and 1934) were performed often by the famous French Calvet, Loewength, Pascalet and Parenin quartets;23 his String Trio (1934) was dedicated to, premiered and recorded by the Trio Pasquier; it received the Grand Prix de Disque in 1935.
Among his piano pieces that were inspired by Basque folklore are Berceuse des pins (1926) and the Petite Suite basque (1934).24 In 1938, Bonnal produced Le Ballet basque. The Paris Opera had accepted this work due to the Count Miramon Fitz-James, who sent the scenario for this ballet to its director, Jacques Rouché,25 but the war prevented its presentation.
During this period, Bonnal remained in contact with Tournemire who had come to give a chamber music concert at the Théâtre Municipal in Bayonne on Saturday, April 12, 1924. Tournemire accompanied on the piano his future wife, Alice Espir (1901-1996), a violinist with a First Prize in the class of Lefort at the Paris Conservatory, as well as a singer and a violoncellist, Yvonne Simonot. Tournemire and Miss Espir performed works by Buxtehude and Bach. Tournemire also accompanied the premieres of his own Poème for violoncello and piano, his Mélodies based on poems by A. Le Braz, and his Trio for violin, violoncello and piano. Bonnal accompanied Miss Espir in the first performance of his own Légende for violin and piano, and also premiered his own Nocturne, Soir aux Abatilles for piano.26
In 1925–1926, Bonnal composed his most important and his favorite work: his Poèmes Franciscains (Ariettes pour les Anges) for soloists, choir and orchestra, set to 19 mystical poems by Francis Jammes (1868–1938), the poet from Béarn.27 These calm and noble meditations that last 65 minutes evoke the major mysteries and the most beautiful feasts of the liturgical year. On December 27, 1926, they were performed at the Théâtre Municipal in Bayonne. In 1929, Bonnal won a composition competition from the Society for the Advancement of Music in Synagogues in San Francisco, for his psalm Adon Olam, for soloists, choir and orchestra.
Tournemire was proud of Bonnal’s achievements. On January 2, 1929, he had written: “Et puis, comme disait Liszt, il n’y a pas d’élèves, il n’y a que des collaborateurs.” [“And my dear friend, as Liszt said, there are no students, there are only collaborators.”]28 On March 22, 1929, he wrote to express his admiration for his First String Quartet: “une oeuvre extrêmement intérieure, pleine de poésie, originale, raisonnable . . .” [“an extremely interiorized work, full of poetry, original, reasonable . . .”]. Tournemire had spent two hours presenting it to his chamber music class at the Paris Conservatory.
When Tournemire had sent Bonnal one of the cycles of his L’Orgue mystique,29 Bonnal responded, in a letter addressed to “mon bon Maître et Ami” on March 25, 1929,

J’ai reçu l’exemplaire de l’Orgue Mystique et j’ai été émerveillé. Vous parlez une langue nouvelle: l’orgue, ce qui semblait impossible après pape Franck! Bravissimo! Merci aussi.
[I received the score from l'Orgue Mystique and I was amazed. You speak with a new language: the organ, that which seemed impossible after pope Franck! Bravissimo! Thank you as well.]

According to a letter from Bonnal to Tournemire, written on February 27, 1930, Bonnal requested that the library of his conservatory order the complete collection of Tournemire's L'Orgue mystique.

His compositions for Les Amis de l'Orgue30

In 1930, Bonnal also composed a triptych for the first composition competition organized by the "Amis de l'Orgue."31 The candidates were to compose a work in three movements in the form of a fantasy or a programmatic work. This competition took place on June 20, 1930, at the Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles in Paris. The following members—Gabriel Pierné (president), Nadia Boulanger, Joseph Bonnet, Pierre de Bréville, Alexandre Cellier, Claude Delvincourt, Jacques Ibert, Adolphe Marty, Achille Philip, Albert Roussel, Charles Tournemire and Louis Vierne—awarded their prize of 5,000 francs to Maurice Duruflé for his Prélude, Adagio et Choral varié sur le Veni Creator; a very honorable mention was given to Bonnal for his Paysages euskariens [Euskerian Landscapes] (entitled Paysages Pyrénéens [Pyrenean Landscapes]), and congratulations were given to Henriette Roget for her Suite sur un thème de l'office de Noël.
Impregnated with Basque folklore, Bonnal's three Euskerian Landscapes depict the peaceful Basque countryside, with its green valleys and hills. The first, La Vallée du Béhorléguy au matin [The Béhorléguy Valley in the Morning], is Bonnal's most popular organ work. In the tonality of e (the transposed mode of b), its poetical impressionism evokes the serenity of the Béhorléguy peak, in the Basse Navarre, near Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. The second movement, Le Berger d'Ahusquy, is a calm pastoral on the Flute stops with the Clarinet. The last movement, Cloches dans le ciel, is a virtuosic carillon in the vibrant tonality of E.
On June 12, 1930, Tournemire wrote to Bonnal, his student who had become a master:

Votre oeuvre est grandiose. Le début, sur un thème basque (peut-être de vous) est d'une fraicheur incomparable. . . . Votre Toccata en pleine de force, de puissance.32

[Your work is grandiose. The beginning, on a Basque theme (perhaps by you), has an incomparable freshness . . . Your Toccata is full of force, of power.]

On the other hand, Tournemire encouraged him to avoid composing in Franck's style, which leads to too many long passages. He continued:

Vous, vous êtes un maître. De plus, vous avez l’âge des grandes choses. Et votre oeuvre m’a donné grande joie. Vous avez écrit un chef d’oeuvre.

[You, you are a master. In addition, you are at an age of great achievements. And your work filled me with great joy. You have written a masterpiece.]

On August 19, 1930, he offered a Petite Elevation to his daughter Marylis. (See photo 2.) In January, 1931, Bonnal had also composed a charming Petit Noël in A major. On February 3, 1931, Louis Vierne, the godfather of Bonnal's daughter Mayette, wrote a letter to "his dear friend" Bonnal, congratulating him for his honorable mention. In spite of Vierne's recommendation, the Lemoine editors did not accept Bonnal's triptych for publication. Durand published its movements separately in 1931.33
It appears that after this competition, in preparation for their publication by Durand (January 1932), Bonnal rewrote certain passages of his Euskerian Landscapes and added the names of the dedicatees. The first movement was dedicated to his friend and organ student, Count Christian d'Elbée. Bonnal dedicated the second movement to his dear friend, Count Bérenger de Miramon Fitz-James, the president-founder of Les Amis de l'Orgue, who had advised him to rewrite its conclusion:

. . . refaites un autre épisode médian—qui vous laisse dans le plein-air. . . . qui fasse une trentaine de mesures et nous ramène le carillon. Il n’y a pas—si je ne m’abuse—de thèmes spécifiquement euskariens dans ce final—n’est-ce pas le cas d’en introduire un et ne tombez pas à la renverse, si je vous dis que dans l’intérêt de l’exportation, si un pâtre venait se promener là dedans avec quelques chèvres bélantes—mais bêlant ‘à la mystique’, cela ne serait pas maladroit.34

[. . . write another intermediary episode—which leaves us in the open air. . . . which constitutes about thirty measures and which leads us to the carillon. There are not—if I am not mistaken—any specific Euskerian themes in this last movement—wouldn’t it be appropriate to introduce one? And don’t fall off your chair, if I tell you that, from a viewpoint of the export [of this work], if a shepherd began to walk around with several bleating goats—but bleating ‘mystically’, this would not be inappropriate.]

This second movement, in total keeping with this letter, ends mystically with 28 measures on the Voix Celeste, with a solo on the 8' Harmonic Flute. (See example 3.) The third movement was dedicated to André Fleury, titular organist at the Saint-Augustin Church in Paris.
On February 16, 1931, Bonnal wrote to Tournemire that he had taken out all of the accents that were too Franck-like, but that he left all that could recall Tournemire, Fauré or Debussy: “cela c’est encore permis, paraît-il!” [“that it is still allowed, supposedly!”].
On February 28, 1931, Tournemire finally finished composing the 33rd office of his L'Orgue mystique, Op. 57 (for the eighth Sunday after Pentecost), which he dedicated "to his dear student and friend, an eminent musician, Ermend Bonnal, Director of the Bayonne Conservatory."33 Bonnal only received his personal copy on April 21. He immediately wrote to Tournemire:

Il n’y a pas une heure que le Facteur m’a remis mon office et déjà je le connais à fond, parce que je me suis précipité au piano pour le lire. Quelle belle chose claire, pure, lumineuse comme le ciel de mon cher pays basque! Oui, c’est vraiment cet office qu’il fallait me dédier! Quelle poésie dans les morceaux courts et quelle joie dans l’Alleluia! Je suis très fier que mon humble nom soit inscrit en tête de tant de Beauté. Vous m’avez fait un grand honneur et une grande joie. Laissez moi vous en remercier de toute la sincerité de mon Coeur ému, et vous embrasser Filialement.

[It was not yet one hour ago that the mailman delivered my cycle and already I know it deeply, because I ran to the piano to play through it. What a beautiful piece, clear, pure, full of light like the sky of my dear Basque country! Yes, it was indeed this service that ought to have been dedicated to me! The short pieces are so poetic and what joy in the Alleluia! I am very proud that my humble name be printed at the beginning of so much beauty. You have rendered so much honor and great joy to me. Allow me to thank you most sincerely from my deeply moved heart, and I embrace you as a brother.]
 

Joris Verdin studied both organ and musicology. This combination is the reason for his preference of reviving forgotten music at the same time as he creates contemporary compositions. He has recorded over 30 CDs as a soloist, spanning many musical eras and styles. After various activities as accompanist, arranger and producer, he now focuses on the organ as well as the harmonium, and has become internationally reputed as a specialist. He teaches at the Royal Conservatory of Antwerp and the University of Leuven. Master classes, musical editions and articles are an important part of his activities—among them, the first complete edtion of César Franck harmonium works and the first handbook of harmonium technique. The Spanish town Torre de Juan Abad (Ciudad Real) appointed Joris Verdin as honorary organist of the historical organ built by Gaspar de la Redonda in 1763. He obtained the Diapason d’Or and Cecilia award from the Belgian Press in 2001, was named Musician of the Year of the Flanders Festival 2002, and is artist in residence at the Fondation Royaumont, France 2008. The author gratefully acknowledges the assistance of Chris Bragg, Amersfoort, Holland/Perthshire, Scotland, in translating this article.

Introduction
We can no longer refer to the 19th century as the “last century”; it belongs now, definitively, to history. As a result, 19th century music has become “early music.” Whether this is a positive or negative development I cannot say, but as a consequence of this music becoming ever more distant from our own time, the importance of collecting and preserving as much knowledge as possible increases. Such insights are essential for an accurate assessment of the surviving scores, texts and other sources.
This article will deal with several aspects of 19th-century French symphonic organ music, each of which can influence our appreciation and performance of this literature. Our perceptions of the repertoire in question are colored by such typically 20th-century ideals that it is now high time for the 21st century to contribute its own. As well as the currently typical philological (“musicological”) approach to the score, one should now evaluate the bigger picture. The context of French symphonic organ music as a part of 19th century music in general is an important concept for those who approach it creatively.

“Mon orgue c’est mon orchestre”
“French” is not difficult to define. It indicates, in general, the areas where the French language defined the culture in the 19th century: France, Belgium, parts of Switzerland and Spain, but with influences felt throughout Europe.
“Symphonic” has more or less the same clear meaning for everyone: we speak about symphonic music, a symphony orchestra, a symphonic suite, etc. Symphonic organ music, then, refers to symphonic music played on the organ, or music played on a symphonic organ. The first definition, in the sense of musical structure, requires no further comment. It is self-explanatory that the typical forms of symphonic music could also be applied to organ music. The second explanation describes the ensemble playing of different groups of instruments resulting in a cumulative sound-concept: that of the orchestra. This is nothing new, but still this idea has an essential importance for the sound of the organ.
The term “romantic” is often used in this context within the organ world. But what IS romantic? Is it a synonym for tempo rubato? For legato? Ad libitum? Senza rigore? In any case it has little to do with symphonic music, but refers rather to the evoking or expressing of extra-musical feelings. In this regard 19th-century music is no different than the music of any other period. An O Mensch bewein dein Sünde gross is at least as “romantic” as a Scherzo Symphonique. A Toccata per l’elevazione conjures at least as many images above the altar as a Prière à notre Dame. In fact, what we have here is one of those 20th-century ideals that color our view of 19th-century music: the term “romantic” was used in the 20th century to distance itself from the previous century, but today we are hardly aware of this. We would rather, therefore, speak about symphonic music and symphonic organs.
Of course some organs, mainly from the early 19th century, were “romantic.” However, the stops that were introduced at the time to imitate colorful instruments were intended as “decoration,” without influence on the sound of the ensemble, and therefore not symphonic. The “real” symphonic organ came about when the ensemble-ideal began to determine the direction of organ-building development. Solo stops remained important, but only on the condition that their function within the ensemble was of primary importance.
What would we think of a colorful Cor Anglais without the necessary Hautbois, just as in an orchestra? This is why one finds a minimum of solo stops on small organs. Not for nothing did Lefébure-Wely describe the harmonium as a “symphonic instrument”: an instrument with a compact and flexible ensemble made up of strongly differentiated colors. One of the consequences is as follows: In the context of the orchestra it is normal practice to hold sectional rehearsals. Why not then for the organ? Because an organist only has one head? But the conductor also has only one head and he allows the different groups to play beautifully together.
Symphonic organ music does something similar. The “symphonic organist” is comparable with the conductor; it is up to him to decide whether the oboe solo works with the accompaniment of the strings, for example. It is not the oboist’s problem in the first instance. The two hands of the symphonic organist behave in exactly the same way as the orchestra. The soloist determines his own expression while the accompaniment gives the framework wherein the soloist’s freedom comes to life. In other instances, where the orchestra sounds as one instrument to illustrate power and rhythm, for example in the scherzo or finale of a symphony, then it is the responsibility of the conductor to ensure that everything sounds together. In short, the organist must be able to adapt his way of playing to every musical situation. Insight, when referring to a symphonic score, is not limited to the study of the notes—insight dictates which voices may have freedom, and which may not.
The connotations of the term “symphonic” with regards to the organ changed substantially around the beginning of the 20th century. Initially it referred to the sound-concept it shared in common with the orchestra. However, with the reform movement in church music, and especially in organ philosophy, the term gradually began to become separated from its direct reference to orchestral instruments. The symphonic organ became “elevated,” even “spiritualized.”
Widor explains it as follows:
The possibility to enclose a complete organ in an opened or closed prison (at the will of the player), the freedom to mix sound-colors, the means by which to louden or soften, independence of rhythm, certainty of attack, equality of contrasts, and, finally, a complete expansion of colors; palette full of the most varied sounds, harmonic flutes, strings with beards, English horns, trumpets, Voix Célestes, foundations and reeds of an until then [until the organs of Cavaillé-Coll] unknown quality and variety. This is the modern organ, essentially symphonic.1
This has consequences for performance practice:

This is the way in which the organ symphony is different from the orchestral symphony. Confusion of the styles is not possible. One shall never again write in the same manner for organ as for orchestra . . .2
In other words, we see here a clear line of separation between the secular symphony and organ repertoire. Only the structural element remains important within the context of the symphony; the performance elements become different. They become adapted to the demands of the “modern” organ—distant and monumental.

It is not necessary to require the same precision and co-ordination of the hands and feet with the release as with the attack.3

. . . whereby Widor indicates that such an approach was considered sound.

L’Orgue Moderne
The French classical organ of around 1700 also had orchestral associations, referring to the orchestra of the time. Trompettes, cromornes and flutes were typical colors, but without the concept of ensemble being of importance. The irreplaceable Plein Jeu can be considered the most characteristic organ sound in this context. But the Plein Jeu is of course decidedly non-orchestral, far less symphonic. It remains a Blockwerk, a massive pyramid of sound. The Plein Jeu is also the first element that disappears in the 19th century. (The Plein Jeu as registration remains in use only in the liturgy, to accompany plainchant.) Of course the Jeu de Tierce also disappears; the sound is too nasal, and reminded the listener too much of old instruments with more overtones than fundamental. As a result it was less useful for the ensemble registrational ideal.
Now, an important difference between the classical and the symphonic organ can be found in the pitch basis of the basses, specifically in the pedal. The classical organ is based completely on the 8?. In the case of the Plein Jeu, a 16? stop can be used, but the tonal basis remains the 8?. The pedal specification is based on the 8? flute or trompette, not the 16?. The classical French organ shares this feature with the French baroque orchestra where no (or at least very few) double basses were used.
The great change happened around 1750 with the so-called “Concerts Spirituels,”4 where double basses were indeed introduced. From this time onward, French organs began to feature 16? stops in the pedal. This didn’t make the organ symphonic, but it can at least be considered a condition for an organ to be deemed symphonic. The pedal department of the symphonic organ is then just an expansion of the flutes and reeds at 8? and 4? with the corresponding 16? stops. The essential implication is that the “symphonic” pedal completely takes over the bass function.
One can see this in the music of Lefébure-Wely and his colleagues, for example Franck or Batiste. If one then considers that the pedal represents the basses of the orchestra, this leads of course to implications for the way in which the pedal must be played. The double-basses are of course played with bows, while the bass trombones, and tubas (or ophicleides in this musical context), represented in the organ by the reeds, are dependent on the human breath, with all the implied consequences for the initial sound. Total legato is, then, unthinkable, just as in the symphony orchestra.
This original symphonic manner of playing, that is to say not absolutely legato, is mirrored by the construction of the organs. Basses, by definition, sound low—in the lower regions of the pedal, easily accessible by the left foot. This leaves the right foot free to manipulate the cuillère swell box, which is found on the right hand side of the pedalboard. Legato playing in the pedal finds its origins when the organ began to become considered “sacred” or least disassociated from its human elements. It receives, then, an endless, eternal breath, more of which anon. From that moment the swell box and its position also changed: it became balanced and centrally located in the console.

La Peste de l’orgue
The swell box brings us to the following essential element of the symphonic style: dynamics.5 In the context of the importance of control and flexibility of volume in the symphonic “language,” it must be recognized that the increase of intensity, in the strings as well as in the brass, is reflected in the specifications of the organs. As a direct consequence comes the desire to be able to completely control the sound using a flexible mechanical system.
In order to be able to understand this better, we turn our attention briefly to the principles of expression in this period. The main factor when considering expression is dynamics. The normal shape of the dynamics is determined by the content of the musical phrase. A normal curve describes a rise-and-fall movement: an “opening out” from the point of departure, a climax, and a return to the initial point. To work against the gravity requires a certain energy—in other words, a general crescendo-diminuendo pattern is the basis for a normal musical phrase. The beginning and end of the phrase are determined by rests, or by slurs. If this was indeed the normal dynamic pattern, then its notation by composers was not necessary. It was only when the composer wished to indicate another expression that the change in intensity was expressed in symbols or words.
Over this basic curve are added the accents of a phrase. These accents were classified into three types, each of which has a consequence for the dynamic.6 The first is the metrical accent: this places the emphasis on the strong part of the bar. The metrical accent determines how the listener experiences the bar, and also determines the basic character of the piece. (In the current performance practice of early music, the metrical accent is omnipresent.) The second accent is rhythmic: it determines the rhythms or figures, further illustrated by upbeats, syncopation, subdivision of the beat, etc. The rhythm of the phrase requires a dynamic indication whereby the meter no longer follows a straight line, but instead follows an interesting and varied course. The third accent is pathetic: the feeling of the performer, or the transmission of this feeling to the listener giving rise to additional strong accents, independent of those already discussed. These accents can be notated in the score, but this is not necessarily the case. The essence of this accent is the experience of the performing artist who transmits the expression of his emotions through dynamics.
This phenomenon was already recognized, by Rousseau for instance, but it becomes a parameter of primary importance in the middle of the 19th century. A hierarchy of accents begins to develop. The pathetic accent becomes more important than the rhythmic, which in turn is more important than the metrical. The “virtuosity” of the swell box must be seen within this context. If one, as a consummate artist, wishes to able to express the whole gamut of feelings, then one must have complete control over the dynamics. Therefore the right foot spends ever more time on the swell pedal. (It goes without saying that this clarifies the great success of the harmonium.) In this way the organ gains the power of expression of any other instrument. This was essential to bring the organ out of the historical low-point it had found itself in.
The old joke that French organists could only play with the left foot was simply the truth! They were “left-foot virtuosi” and “right-foot virtuosi,” but the right foot remained on the swell pedal (certain Hammond virtuosi still have this technique). This is evidenced by an astonishing comment from Lefébure-Wely writing in L’Organiste moderne (2ème Livraison, Offertoire): “It is better to abandon the swell pedal and to play the pedal with both feet.” Dynamics therefore are incompatible with legato in the bass: with the “left-foot virtuosi,” expression always took priority over legato.
December 31, 1869 (the day Lefébure-Wely died) can be seen as the symbolic end of the left-foot virtuosi. The swell box became abandoned and both feet were now available for the performance of legato passages. The arrival of Widor as titulaire of St. Sulpice pushed the organ in a totally new direction. Widor’s succession of Franck at the Conservatoire further strengthened his grip on the organ culture.

Musica Sacra
The turmoil of the revolution and everything that followed severely affected not only the church, but of course everything associated with it. To recover from such a low point the church had to “pull out all the stops.” One of its best weapons was music. The up and coming bourgeoisie had set the tone as far as music was concerned. Musical culture was not only blossoming in the concert hall, but also at home. Those who wished to attract these people to the church were duty-bound to offer music that reflected that of the secular world. For those from the lower echelons of society, the church offered the only possibility to come into contact with the musical fashion of the time. This is the reason that Boëly was so unsuccessful—his music was simply too reminiscent of the Ancien Regime—and why Lefébure-Wely was seen by the parish authorities as a hero. This fashionable music brought the extremes of dynamic flexibility into the church. This was one of the most important aspects objected to by the opponents of the new church music. The problem, of course, was nothing new. Berlioz describes it well in his Traité d’Instrumentation (1844):

Without wishing to again stir the debate about the endless issue of expression in spiritual music, which above all should be simple (without a hidden agenda), we do allow the advocates of “plain” music, plain chant, and the non-expressive organ, to express their admiration when the performing choir, singing a spiritual work, delights with its sophisticated nuances of crescendo-diminuendo, light-dark, swelling, exalted sounds. They clearly contradict themselves; at least by their asserting (which they do very well) that the, in essence, moral, liturgical and Catholic expressive possibilities of the human voice, when applied to the organ suddenly become immoral, not fit for liturgical use, Godless.7
Berlioz was not the only figure to discuss the problem. One of the leading figures in church music, Joseph d’Ortigue, was very much against this increase of expression. He cited the swell box as the defacing of the godly instrument:
. . . all the attempts today to corrupt the organ from its origins and to rid it of its Christian roots, are no less reprehensible.
The ensemble of the organ—even, continuous, plain—determines, precisely because of these properties, the character of the plain-chant. The orchestral instruments, which, in a certain context speak to our feelings, have, in the church only a contrived and caricatured expression, but the organ, whose keyboard is cold and insensitive, has, in the same house of God, a grandiose expression full of majesty . . . It is barely more than 160 years ago that people tried to rid the organ of the majestic character it had, due to the equality and “planitude” of its accents, in order to introduce the nuances and convolutions of secular music which imposed themselves on the expressing . . . of the sentiments of man in his most earthly worries . . . some were not able to resist this fatal impulse, and, as a result the power of secular music has tried to impinge on spiritual music for nearly two centuries . . .
The organ is “monotone,” it is distanced from all earthly basis. But church music is just as “monotone,” that is to say plain, distanced from earthly expression, full of a calm and heavenly expression, and of the human breath; I say again, the organ and church music have the same character, just as they share the same goal, and one can say that the circumstances of the origins of both are just as sacred as each other . . .8
. . . this expression, which we view as destructive for the character of the instrument.9

The successors of d’Ortigue such as Joseph Regnier attack the “persistent allowing of the mouth of the public to fall open” through the “persistent swelling of the sound.” To quote him, “Your box is the plague of the organ.”10 Adrien de La Fage, the other authority on the subject of church music, stuck resolutely to a position against the opinions of d’Ortigue:

The expression gained through such a simple method as a box with louvers is a very useful improvement made available to organists and one which has long been desired.11
Over the question of whether all the manuals of an organ should be enclosed, Ply offers the following pragmatic answer:

Recently Cavaillé-Coll and Merklin have applied swell boxes to all the manuals of an organ, at the request of organists . . . is this a positive development? Or a negative one? The critics have not yet clarified the official position. As far as we are concerned we can not reject it in an organ intended for concert use. On the other hand we would not see it as useful should all stops of a church organ be under expression.12

The tendency against dynamic expression becomes more important from the middle of the 19th century. One of the most notable results can be seen in organ building: the cuillère became gradually superseded by the centrally placed balanced pedal. A protagonist of this static conception of dynamics was Charles-Marie Widor, of whom more anon. Lefébure also followed this trend to a degree: L’Organiste moderne (1867) contains few dynamic indications, certainly much fewer than earlier in his works, like the Meditaciones religiosas (1858); there are a considerable number of pieces without indications and his notated crescendi are discreet. What a difference from his earlier publications!
Incidentally, it is worthwhile to compare the sacred music of Lefébure-Wely with his secular works. One sees from the outset a differentiation with regards to dynamics: the church music is, in general, less flexible. A good example of this is to be found in the Suites pour harmonicorde. The second piece from the first suite “Roma,” contains a footnote that reads: “This Prayer can be performed, if desired, without expression (NB: Lefébure means the dynamic changes), as long as one takes care to pump softly where ‘p’ is indicated”—and at the end of the piece: “played by the composer on the organ of the Madeleine Sunday 17 May 1857 during the High Mass.” This teaches us two important things: First, that good composers made the distinction between church and concert; second, that Lefébure-Wely within this context created for himself a clear line of separation. His music is also clear evidence of the ongoing evolution of church music. A comparison of the dynamics of L’Office catholique, op. 148, with Vademecum de l’organiste, op. 187, shows a sobering of the crescendi and diminuendi.
This trend becomes more and more common in church music; and in organ building: less flexible swell boxes; in organ-playing: the increasingly common use of absolute legato; and the new organ schools that were founded under the influence of Palestrina and Cecilia: École de Musique Classique et Religieuse (École Niedermeyer, Paris), Kirchenmusikschule (Regensburg), École de Musique Religieuse (“Lemmensinstitute,” Mechelen), Schola Cantorum (Paris). The development is noted in the French edition of Riemann’s Dictionnaire de Musique:

About the real crescendo, comparable to that of the orchestra, that is today certainly not applicable to the organ. Maybe this is a good thing, as it led to the loss of the organ’s majestic “impersonality” and also, without doubt to the era of sentimental and pathetic organ playing.13
It is reported, incidentally, that Tinel, director of Lemmens Institute, solved the problem on behalf of that institution, by rephrasing the French term for “swell pedal” thus: “La pédale faussement appelée expressive” (The falsely named expressive-pedal).14

L’Ecole du Choral
The banning of expression of feeling in the form of dynamics is not the only way to improve church music. Another element is rhythm. During the first decades of the 19th century cheerful and driving pieces made a substantial impact: the polka, mazurka, boléro, march, fanfare are interspersed with light and restful cavatinas, serenades, nocturnes and romances. The musical elements of these pieces were used in order to bring a picture of the prosperity of the outside world into the church. In some parishes these pieces entirely dictated the mood, in others their application was limited to certain moments in the service. The believers arrived and departed to a march, during the collection the public were treated to a brilliant offertoire, in order, of course, to encourage their generosity! The versets and communions reminded the listener of the cozy Soirée musicale of the day before.
However, a reaction against such music also manifested itself, particularly from those who considered the churches only to be full of believers attracted by the mundane music. These figures went back to the sources of church music, such as Gregorian chant and early polyphony, preferably before Monteverdi and the “seconda prattica”—in other words, Palestrina. This aesthetic can be recognized by its simple rhythm, preferably made up of long note values: half notes or quarters.
Via this “side door,” the Protestant chorale made its entry. It answered musically the requirements of “real” church music; the associated text can be left out or replaced. The vertical harmony with its, ideally, affiliated melodic movement brings forth a new genre, the choral. A typical example is Gounod’s edition of a selection of Bach’s chorales. Their titles have disappeared, but each is commented upon from a harmonic viewpoint, such as le Ré bémol, c’est de la démence (the d-flat is insane) in no. 130 (Vater unser im Himmelreich).
The rhythmic characteristics of the chorale and of counterpoint became an element of good Catholic church music. Rhythmic sobriety, simple meter, and absence of whimsical interjections are typical. The real church music is differentiated from the mundane not only by the rejection of lively accents, but also through the rejection of clearly profiled rhythmic figures (such as in a boléro). This is clearly evident if one compares Guilmant’s L’Organiste Liturgique with his sonatas, or Lefébure’s L’Office catholique with his Soirées Napolitaines, or even Lemmens’s organ school and the songs written for Helen Sherrington. An amusing example can be found in the Messe Solennelle of Rossini: the Prélude religieux consists of a 120-bar-long string of eighth notes. Truly religious!
But we can also see this phenomenon in L’Organiste Moderne: the “strophes” on a Gregorian melody exhibit a uniform picture of equal note values with the comment “dans le mouvement du plain chant.” This trend is officially recognized in Catholic church music in the encyclical Motu Proprio, 1903. Among organists, it was Widor who, above all, explored and forwarded it. His early symphonies are firmly rooted in the brilliant style, but the Romane and Gothique are classic examples of the new religious style; inspiration from Gregorian chant, rhythmically calm, classical registrations without extreme effects, sober dynamic indications.
Another nice example of this differentiation comes from Edgar Tinel, not only an important representative figure through his position. He was the successor of Lemmens, after the latter’s untimely death just after the foundation of the École de Musique Religieuse in Mechelen. As its director he was in the midst of Catholic church music in a country which, at the time, provided a model in a number of fields for its southern neighbors. Because of this, Tinel had an important influence on the following generation of organists. His legendary speech to the Societé Saint-Grégoire in 1883 was published in Musica Sacra, the magazine of the episcopacy.

How does one create a good organist? . . . it comes down to determining what is good taste and to educate . . . what is appropriate to perform in this context . . . Some works written in a somewhat concertante style . . . are easily recognizable because of their joyful worldly style, of their lively spiky rhythms, their military tempi, dancing or overly fast. Sometimes it suffices just to survey which stops the composer indicates . . . Piccolo 1? and Bourdon 16? on the Grand Orgue, Hautbois with tremulant and dynamics on the Positif or Récit . . . these works—sometimes composed by famous people—are certainly not appropriate for use in the church, whether performed before, during, or after the service. The good taste of the pupil is formed by his study of the great masters of the 16th and 17th centuries: Frescobaldi, Asola, Pitoni, Fasolo, Hassler . . . also Palestrina . . . works where calm majesty and serene beauty are ideal encouragement for silent reflection. But these masters alone are not sufficient.
J. S. Bach and his school are also necessary . . . not the complete Bach of course, but the “Catholic” Bach . . . in one word, the Bach of the chorale. This “Bach of the chorale” has already been, several years ago, brought to the attention of Catholic organists, to their benefit. Mr. Ferdinand Kufferath . . . has published a book entitled “The school of the chorale,” a volume containing the purest teaching of the organ-playing style of the church.15

Their tempi
The separation of church and concert music manifests itself in another area, also noted by Tinel. Tempo plays an important role in the character of 19th-century music in general, and of organ music in particular. Here, we must differentiate between two levels, the basic tempo of a piece and the flexibility of the basic tempo during the course of the piece, the agogics. As a general rule, the tempo of concert music is fundamentally quicker than that of church music: “their tempo” speaks volumes. This of course should hardly surprise us, but it is interesting to bear in mind that this is reflected in the tempo markings notated by Lefébure-Wely, Guilmant and Lemmens. A typical example from Guilmant is a Marche for harmonium and piano: 69 for the half note; Marche Religieuse: 60 for the quarter—in both pieces the smallest note value is a 16th note. A comparison of the metronome indications of Lefébure-Wely in his Meditaciones religiosas with his opera indicates even more pronounced differences.
The question of tempo was then a vexed one in the 19th century. The review of the organ exams of the Lemmens Institute in 1882, written by Kanunnik Van Damme, one of the founders of the school, tells us that the public criticized the tempi of the performed works. Van Damme agreed that “certains artistes” had made the listeners accustomed to quicker tempi, but states firmly that such dizzy speeds often obscured clarity, and, moreover, were not appropriate for the church. In other words, in the church music school, a moderate tempo was taught as an essential quality in a performance:

through them [the pupils], the listeners admired the incomparable qualities of the Master, perfection in fingering, excellent use of the pedal . . . and, above all, the extremely steady rhythm that lends greatness to organ playing, is indeed for the organ, what the claw is for the lion.16
Here, the agogic aspect is highlighted. Worthy church music is as firm and immovable as the rock on which one can build. This tallies exactly with a review of Lemmens’s piano playing, cited by Duclos.17

Just like all great musicians he has, at the highest level, the feeling for rhythm, and his expression is not reliant, as with many talented famous artists, on freedom of tempo. That feeling for rhythm is so strong that he never, even in the quickest passages, hurries, and in slower passages never drags, a rare skill, which is at no time a hindrance to the warmth of feeling, or the unexpectedness of the poetry.18

Later we will see how Widor used these ideas of Duclos in his manifesto for the new organ culture. Widor liked to see himself in the famous line which, via Lemmens eventually leads back to Bach himself, but forgot to mention that, as far as is known, Lemmens himself never cited this link.
This brings us, inevitably, to the tempo problems of Franck. One statement we can make immediately: Franck’s “great” organ works are concert music; not a single title refers to the church. After his death, his works were saved from certain obscurity by their “declaration,” as it were, as church music. Pious tempi and discreet nuances elevated Franck to the “worthwhile” composers of the 19th century, and neatly to tally with Lenoir’s statue of Franck in the garden by St. Clotilde.19

Le Génie du Christianisme
The sacred character of the organ can only convincingly be accounted for by laying its origins in religion.
Just as with Christian architecture, the Christian instrument is an anonymous and collective discovery, just as a learned figure once said (M. Boyer, Notice sur l’orgue et l’organiste), the person prompted by the Holy Spirit to worship the supreme Lord.20
The literary source for this idea can be found in the manifesto of the revival of the Catholic Church in France: Le Génie du Christianisme (1802). In his short chapter about music, De Chateaubriand sets the basis for the purification of church music. He refers to Plato in order to determine the true basis of music:

Music is, in fact, an imitation of nature—art is cited in the same way. Her perfection is then the most beautiful possible manner in which to depict nature.21

The “real” music, produced by religion, contains the essentials of harmony: beauty and mystery. It goes without saying that these are lost through all human disturbances—“le trouble et les dissonances.” The closing sentence of the last paragraph would later be endlessly quoted: “Christianity discovered the organ and gave it breath.”22
D’Ortigue would also use this sentence at the beginning of his extended chapter about the organ. He goes on to add to it:

Indeed, the religious genius alone was able to make of the organ the wondrous instrument that we know, and with it the most complete and perfect expression of the Christian life, in art envisaged in the form of liturgy . . . antiquity, continuation, universality, unity, authority. As a monumental instrument, it represents the unchangeable elements in the structures of liturgical singing, in this art which develops independently.23

The Christian architect . . . with help from the organ and the suspended bronze, has attached as much to the Gothic temple himself, as the sound of wind and thunder, which rolls in the depth of the forest. The centuries summoned by these religious sounds, let their ancient voices sound again from the heart of the stones, their breath in the enormous basilica.24

Chateaubriand of course wasn’t alone. Victor Hugo (Chants du Crepuscule, about the “suspended bronze”) and Lamartine added their voices:

One cannot hear his deep and lonely voice/ mixes itself, outside the temple with the idle sounds of the earth ( . . . )/
( . . . ) But he directs himself to God in the shadow of the church/ his great voice which swells and hurries like a breeze/ And with voices raised unto God/ The song of nature and humanity.25
Finally, Ply published the text of the inaugural speech of the pastor of Clermont-Ferrard Cathedral, at the consecration of the new organ. Here, the ideas of “Le Génie du Christianisme” go rather in the direction of Widor’s “calme des choses définitives.” The text quotes “un auteur très-compétent” (and should you, the reader, know who this author is, I should be grateful to know).

There is in the thousand voices of the organ, in that smooth, supporting, enduring static mass of sound, something of the restiveness of the Cathedral, vast and calm like the ecstasy and adoration; something that flies as a “Hosanna” in an enormous heaven, something as unchangeable as God, a knowledge, a meditation of the unknown being, indestructible, from an eternal Word, the unending story of him who is.26

Widor had, just as did all his contemporaries, read all these books. The “organ-vision” of Widor fits precisely within the ideal of “Le Génie du Christianisme.” Therefore, the organ, and the way of playing it, had to become independent from human attributes (read “inadequacies”). There is in this context no place for the expression of personal feelings which have anything to do with sensuality, in the most literal sense of the word. As a result, no strong accents, no passionate crescendi, no excited agogics. In their place came a musical architecture with clear, straight lines, just as in the structure of cathedrals:
The great voice of the organ must have the calm of definite things: she was made for stone arches, and is reliant on natural proportions. Where orchestral instruments search for more or less neurotic virtuoso affects, the organ gains its maximum strength through the simple chord of C major, and with it the sound which seems to have neither beginning or end.27
Orgue is continuously written with a capital O, the supremely worthy instrument. Hereby the organ departs the mortal world and the organist depicts a new mysticism. In the early 1930s when Widor himself was rather closer to his own passing, he wrote in his preface to Felix Raugel’s Les Maitres français de l’Orgue aux XVIe, XVIIe, et XVIIIe Siècles, Recueil de 50 Pièces d’orgue ou harmonium:

When . . . the sound of this pipe shall become lost under the high arches of our Cathedral, taking with it our soul to the eternal, only then shall the organ truly be “The mystic instrument.”
The organist, due to the nature of his instrument, is elevated to the universe of the almighty.

When one can receive a note of unlimited duration under one’s finger, in all freedom, without the need to spare the performer’s lungs, when one feels, so to say, the master of time and power, then one has realized the true character of the instrument; of the language which it must speak, and of the style to which it belongs.28
How far away the 1850s seem now! The predecessors of Widor, whether Berlioz, Lefébure-Wely, or Franck, lived in another world. The ideal organ of their time is flexible, and is suited, just as an orchestral instrument, to the translation of the most refined nuances of the artistic sentiment. The organ and its music in that time really represented an attempt to break free of monumentality and stardom. In order to entice people into church, the organ had not to remind them of God, but had rather to reflect the human, the artistic, the refinement of the circles in which good was to be found, the earthly paradise. Dizzy luxury, blinding colors, sumptuous decors, all within easy reach of the man in the street. He who wishes to play Lefébure or Franck is best advised to read first a book by Zola, as this would give better results than reading a book about organ music or reading this article. The exuberance of this time and its music were banished by Widor and his generation. The technical means came first, the artistic consequences became sidelined:

She wants to sing in strict rhythm, this great voice needs rhythm, phrasing, a desire. Let us admire the cadences in Bach’s works which here and there break up the flow of the text, so that we may enjoy a minute rest. Whatever the movement, the Master shuns all suggestion of restlessness, and of hurrying. He never loses his calm and keeps his listeners with him.29
We find ourselves again at the rythme imperturbable, of Lemmens, elevated and stable, like a Grand Orgue. The accents described by Lussy are limited to the metrical and the rhythmic, with the resolute exclusion of the dominant pathetic accents. However, and precisely because of this, the organ gained its allure of greatness and eternity:

What string and brass instruments, the piano and the human voice gain through the bursting forth of the accent and the unpredictability of the attack, the organ gains as a result of its own majesty, speaking as a philosopher; it alone can display such an eternally unchanging volume, that it creates a vision of the religious and of the eternal. Surprises and accents are strangers to it; one lends them out, they are “adopted” accents.30

Through these words, Widor sets himself, for example, against the opinions of Berlioz regarding expression in religious music. Moreover this is completely in accordance with his rejection of Berlioz’s ideas about the organ: “Who informs Berlioz, which organist did he so unfortunately seek advice from?” (Widor, Technique, p. 176) This regarding the instrumental aspect, but it becomes immediately clear that this fits completely into a broader concept of the organ, which is resolutely against that of Berlioz. Though the citing of accents, and, as a result, expression, as being against the true nature of the organ, one must consider tempo and flexibility of agogics within this same context. The rigid structures of Roman and Gothic architecture are reflected in modern organ playing:

Rhythm itself will be influenced by modern tendencies: it shall become a sort of elasticity of the bar, though the essential elements shall be preserved. It will allow the components of the musical sentence to breathe when necessary and be phrased, assuming that it keeps hold of the reins, and that it keeps pace . . . And when the essential qualities of the style are defined by the words purity, clarity and precision, then we regard them as the basis of organ music.31

Provisional conclusion: the term “symphonic organ music” can be defined in very different ways. The whole spectrum of musical genres in 19th century music is represented. The repertoire is unique in its amalgam of profane and sacred ingredients. The performer must, therefore, continually make decisions. The listener can either follow him, or not.

Notes
1. Charles-Marie Widor, Symphonies pour Orgue, ed 1901, Preface.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Nicolas Gorenstein, L’Orgue post-classique français, Chanvrelin, Paris, n.d., pp. 7–11.
5. Joris Verdin, “The Organ: fit for expression?” in Het Orgel 2000/5, pp. 15–22.
6. Mathis Lussy, Traité de l’expression Musicale, Paris, Heugel et Cie, 1877, and: idem, Le Rythme Musical, Paris, 1884.
7. Hector Berlioz, Traité d’Instrumentation, Paris, 1844, p. 169.
8. Joseph d’Ortigue, Dictionnaire liturgique, historique et theorique de Plain-Chant, et de musique d’église, au moyen age et dans les temps modernes, Paris, 1853–1860; “Orgue.”
9. Ibid., “Expression.”
10. H.J. Ply, La Facture moderne etudiée à l’Orgue de St-Eustache, Paris 1878, facsimile Leonce Laget, Paris, 1981, p. 18.
11. A. de La Fage, Le Plain Chant, 2nd year, no. 7, quoted from Ply, p. 19.
12. Ply, op. cit., p. 19, note 1.
13. Hugo Riemann, Dictionnaire de Musique, entièrement remanié et augmenté par Georges Humbert, Lausanne, 1913, p. 235.
14. Musica Sacra, 6th year, no. 2, 1886, p. 11.
15. Musica Sacra, no. 12, p. 99.
16. Kanunnik Van Damme, cited by Joseph Duclos, “Essai sur la vie et les travaux de l’auteur,” in Du Chant Grégorien, ouvrage posthume de Jacques-Nicolas Lemmens, Gent, 1886, p. XXXVI.
17. Duclos, op. cit., p. XXXIV.
18. Recent research has revealed the anonymous reviewer to be none other than Fétis; see Annelies Focquaert, Jacques-Nicolas Lemmens: leven en werk van een organist, unpubl. dissertation at the Orpheusinstitute, Gent, 2006 (2 vol., 314 + 181 pages).
19. Joris Verdin, “Discussions on César Franck,” in Het Orgel 2001/2, pp. 5–9.
20. Ply, op. cit. p. 309.
21. François-René de Chateaubriand, Oeuvres Completes, Tome Premier, Bruxelles, 1852, p. 251.
22. Ibid., pp. 252–253.
23. D’Ortigue, “Orgue.”
24. Chateaubriand, op. cit., p. 262.
25. Ply, op. cit., p. 311.
26. Ibid., p. 306.
27. Charles-Marie Widor, Technique de l’Orchestre Moderne, faisant suite au Traité d’Instrumentation et l’Orchestration de H. Berlioz, Édition Revue et Augmentée, Paris, Lemoine, 1925, p. 188.
28. Ibid.
29. Ibid.
30. Ibid.
31. Ibid.

Addenda: summaries of the mentioned articles in Het Orgel
“The organ: fit for expression?” (Het Orgel 2005/5)
Dynamic and agogic aspects play a major role in 19th-century expression. In this article the first one of these is explored. Based on investigation of period literature we conclude that expressiveness, dynamics and the term “expression” cannot be separated, even are quite inseparable. The importance that is attributed to dynamics is not only documented in general publications about musical aesthetics (Lussy, Riemann), but also, and in the first place, in harmonium methods (Lickl, Lefébure-Wely, Mustel). This makes completely sense, as the harmonium is, among the keyboard instruments, particularly suited to control the parameter of volume. Several quotations from the above-mentioned literature show that there are general “rules” with respect to the dynamic curve of a musical sentence (the up- and downwards movement of crescendo and diminuendo), and that individual musicians, on the other hand, differ from each other, so each of them can individualize his playing.
With regard to the organ we conclude that Charles-Marie Widor represents a school with another point of view: the nature of the instrument, its location and its repertoire demand a less flexible, more objective kind of expression, which is described by Widor as “architecture.” Sigfrid Karg-Elert develops the notion of expression into an idea of transcendent art, in which controlling of dynamics is regarded as the most important individual means of expression.

“Discussions on César Franck” (Het Orgel 2001/2)
The discussions on the “correct” interpretation of Franck’s organ works are mainly a result of the difference between a certain a priori concept of Franck and musicological investigation. Whereas this concept is patently based on unverifiable “testimonies,” the musicological investigation, led by Joël-Marie Fauquet, results in a coherent whole. A very important aspect is the difference between church and concert music. Interpreting Franck’s organ works as religious music requires accepting some assumptions that are contradictory to the entire context of organ playing in France, as well as to the objective indications of Franck himself.

The influence of César Franck’s Trois Chorals on the works of early twentieth-century French composers was not significant. One of the few exceptions was the composer Jacques Ibert (1890–1962), the 125th anniversary of whose birth is being quietly celebrated in 2015. Born in Paris on August 15, 1890, Ibert studied at the Paris Conservatoire in the early 1910s with Émile Pessard, André Gédalge, and Paul Vidal and later served as director of the French Academy in Rome from 1937 to 1960.

Ibert’s experience at the Paris Conservatoire found him in classes where the teaching and attitudes of professors was inconsistent from one to another. Gédalge (1856–1926), who taught counterpoint and fugue, disliked the music of Franck and the counterpoint exercises adopted by the conservatory, choosing instead to teach Bach chorales rather than fugues as the basis for study. By contrast, Vidal (1863–1931) taught using the principles of Franck and Riemann, with a strong emphasis upon chromaticism and was undoubtedly pleased when a new society devoted to Franck was established in Paris in 1913. Caught between opposing points of view during conservatory study, Ibert’s compositional ideas became exploratory, and while he utilized a strong melodic line and pleasing harmonies, his style was eclectic, a trend which would extend throughout his life.

To earn a living while studying at the Conservatoire, Ibert gave piano lessons and improvised at the piano for silent films at the American Theater in Paris. He played on weekends and occasional weeknights, sometimes for up to twelve hours at a time, earning fourteen francs on the longest days. Many years later he would describe the experience as an art of deception, functioning as “pianist-composer-improviser-commentator” before the silent screen where “my fingers would try to terrorize or to charm according to the gist.”¹ He was also occupied during the conservatory years helping his father’s import/export business, which had suffered from a disaster at sea and was in difficult economic straits.

Upon the outbreak of World War I in 1914, Ibert attempted to enlist in the armed forces, as did nearly all young French men. He was rejected for health reasons but was finally accepted into the Red Cross as a stretcher-bearer and hospital attendant. In the next two years he would serve in northern France near the front lines, assisting with the wounded and preparing soldiers for emergency surgery, including the administration of anesthesia. During this time he composed for piano and harp. Characteristic of these would be Le Vent dans le Ruins (1915), which one biographer called “an odd combination of Debussy’s Impressionism, Ravel’s clarity, Roussel’s ruggedness, and Liszt’s romanticism.”² In early 1916 he contracted paratyphoid fever and was sent to southern France following a brief stay in Paris to recuperate during the spring. Upon recovery he returned to Paris and by September had composed the Pièce Romantique for piano, a work strongly influenced by late 19th-century chromaticism in a style reminiscent of Franck.

With his health now much stronger, Ibert was allowed to enlist in the navy in May 1917 and was appointed an officer based upon his skill in mathematics, in which he had excelled for his baccalaureate. He was first sent to Sète along the Mediterranean Sea and then to Dunkerque along the Atlantic, serving for eighteen months and participating in the destruction of numerous enemy positions. During his free time, Ibert visited churches in villages along the coastline and liked to play their organs. These experiences inspired him to write four short works for organ between 1917 and 1919. The first was a Musette in 1917, followed by a Fugue and Choral in 1918, and finally the Pièce Solennelle in 1919, the latter as a gift for his bride on their wedding day.³ 

Genesis of the Choral

The Choral seems to have been written upon the suggestion of Abbé Joseph Joubert (1878–1963), organist at the Cathedral of Luçon from 1904 until 1935, and later from 1940–1946. Ibert probably met Joubert in Paris while the latter was a student at the Schola Cantorum from 1902–1904. Joubert did not complete his studies at the Schola Cantorum, having been called to the Cathedral of Luçon upon the premature death of the previous organist. A tireless worker, Joubert compiled an eight-volume collection of short organ pieces by over one hundred French and Belgian composers entitled Les Maîtres Contemporains de l’Orgue (Contemporary Masters of the Organ; 1912–1914)⁴. Toward the end of World War I, he embarked upon another large-scale project and began compiling a five-volume collection of organ music  (1921–24) dedicated “to the heroes of the Great War,” titling it Les Voix de la Douleur Chrétienne (The Voices of Christian Suffering). It was for this latter project that Ibert submitted his Choral for publication. 

The Choral is the longest of the four pieces for organ and was written in July 1918. Ibert was undoubtedly touched by Joubert’s dedicatory plan to honor soldiers for their sacrifices. He marked the cover page “In Piam gratamque memoriam” (In pious and grateful memory) and dedicated it to Abbé Joubert, adding a preface quote from the Apocrypha, “Justorum animæ in manu Dei sunt,” Sap. III.1 (The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, The Wisdom of Solomon III:1). This verse had inspired a Gregorian chant centuries earlier that was used as the offertory in certain Roman Catholic Masses honoring martyrs. Interestingly, Ibert’s manuscript contained the Roman numeral “I” before the title, suggesting that at least one, if not more, additional pieces were in the making. However, no other piece is known to have been composed for a collection.

In a letter a little more than a year later on October 15, 1919, Joubert informed Ibert that the proofs for the Choral were available, and commented that it is “needless to add that I always stay very grateful—and may be even proud—of your kind and artistic collaboration to Les Voix de la Douleur Chrétienne.” The Choral appeared in the first volume of the collection in 1921 along with Voces Belli by Fernand de la Tombelle, the Marche funèbre and Épitaphe by Henry Defosse, and In Memoriam, Quatre improvisations by Joseph Jongen. 

Style

Years later Ibert acknowledged that his organ works as a whole were influenced by Franck. He commented, “Franck, whom Gédalge detested, charmed me with a certain appeal through the mystical sensuality of his works.” The Choral was written for a three-manual organ and is nearly eight minutes in duration. Its grandeur approaches that of Franck’s  Trois Chorals but it is shorter and more compact. The melody appears to be original and not derived from an existing plainchant. Ibert’s Choral commences with a chordal passage marked “Andante religioso” in C-sharp minor (Example 1) and proceeds through a series of short homophonic passages, each interrupted by contrasting materials derived from the principal theme. Midway through two recitative-like phrases there is a series of interlocking five-note patterns, which soon climax at fortissimo through a winding set of melodic figures in both hands. A brief reprieve consisting of a four-note phrase repeated three times yields to a fugato on the principal theme in four voices (Example 2). The fugato increases in intensity without delay following the exposition and reaches its peak in a final fortissimo statement of the theme in the parallel major key of C-sharp (Example 3). 

The Choral slipped out of sight not long after publication by A. Ledent-Malay and was soon forgotten. Such seems to have been the fate of most works in Joubert’s massive collection. No information regarding the Choral’s first performance has survived. A performance of it was heard on May 29, 1952, at La Madeleine in Paris by organist Edouard Mignan and then no evidence of performance until the early 1990s, when this writer discovered the score at the Bibliothèque Nationale and began distributing copies to the Ibert family and various organists. With the encouragement of Jean-Claude Ibert, the composer’s son, Leduc republished it in 1999. It has since been recorded by John Scott Whiteley, Philippe Delacour, and John Kitchen. 

An effective piece with deep emotional feeling and grandeur, Ibert’s Choral recalls late nineteenth-century compositional techniques through short sectional passages. Its majestic coda brings the work to a triumphant close at fff in tribute to those whose lives had been lost defending their country.

Notes

1. «Mes doigts tentaient de terroriser ou de charmer selon l’action». In a letter from Jacques Ibert to José Bruyr, dated October 29, 1951. A copy of this letter is in the Ibert family archives.

2. Gérard Michel, liner notes, Jacques
Ibert: L’Œuvre pour Piano, Françoise Gobet, piano (long-playing record, Metropole 2599 016, 1979).

3. The Musette, Fugue, and Pièce Solennelle were published as Trois Pièces by Heugel in 1920. See Kit Stout’s article “Jacques Ibert,” The American Organist vol. 14, no. 5 (May 1980), 38–39, for more details about these works.

4. The collection is available online at IMSLP/Petrucci Music Library, imslp.org.

5. «Inutile d’ajouter que je demeure toujours très reconnaissant—et plus fier encore si possible—de votre si aimable et artistique collaboration aux Voix de la Douleur Chrétienne.» The letter also contained a congratulation upon Ibert’s receipt of the Prix de Rome, bestowed upon him only four days earlier. The author is grateful to Jean-Claude Ibert for supplying this information from family archives in a letter to the writer on December 28, 1998.

6. Gérard Michel, Jacques Ibert (Paris: Éditions Segher, 1967), 28–29.

7. Mignan (1884–1969) was organist at La Madeleine from 1935 until 1962. In addition to Ibert’s Choral, Fauré’s Requiem plus a number of short works were performed. The concert was devoted to sacred music and included performances by the Lutheran Chorale and the Orchestre de la Cité.

8. Jacques Ibert, Choral pour Orgue (Paris: Alphonse Leduc, 1999).

9. Whiteley’s recording is on the Priory label (PRCD 619); Delacour’s on the Fugatto label (FUG 009); and Kitchen’s on the Priory label (PRCD 858).

An international concert artist and musicologist, Carolyn Shuster Fournier is titular of the Aristide Cavaillé-Coll choir organ at La Trinité Church in Paris, France (cf. www.shusterfournier.com). Dr. Shuster Fournier was recently awarded the distinction of Chevalier in the Order of Arts and Letters. This is her fourth article to appear in The Diapason.

On June 15, Tournemire played the final “Alleluia” movement in a concert at Sainte-Clotilde that was broadcast live on Paris Radio.
In 1931, the Institut de France had awarded Bonnal the Charles Berthault Prize with 500 francs. Bonnal, however, was looking for other financial awards for his compositions. On March 29, 1932, he admitted in a letter to Tournemire that the private music lessons he gave did not at all cover his expenses:

. . . et vous n’êtes pas là pour m’encourager . . . Je desespère parfois! . . . Alors, je m’endette terriblement . . . et je ne sais ce que je vais devenir.

[ . . . and you are not there to encourage me . . . I sometimes become desperate! . . . Then, I am deeply falling into debt . . . and I don’t know what will happen to me.]

He even began to apply for other posts as a conservatory director in Belfort and in Aix (where he was refused). On February 3, 1932, Bonnal wrote to Tournemire to express his gratitude and ongoing support:

sans doute ma destinée est-elle de mourir à Bayonne. Je m’en réjouirais au reste si ma situation y était en rapport avec mes charges familiales. Je vous remercie de tout Coeur de l’aide précieuse qu’une fois encore (après tant d’autres!) vous m’avez généreusement et cordialement consentie.

[without doubt my destiny is to die in Bayonne. I would really be thrilled if my position was in keeping with my family expenses. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the precious aid (after so many others) which you have so generously and cordially granted.]

On April 25, Bonnal admitted to Tournemire that he was behind schedule and that he hoped to send something to the next competition of the Amis de l’Orgue. In May, 1932, Bonnal composed at Amentcha his most monumental work: his Symphonie d’après “Media vita,” Répons du temps de la Septuagésime in C-sharp minor. Maurice Duruflé played it during the second “Amis de l’Orgue” composition competition, which took place at Saint-François Xavier Church in Paris on June 20, 1932. This time, Bonnal won First Prize and received 4,000 francs. The members of the jury were Gabriel Pierné (president), Alexandre Cellier, Maurice Emmanuel, Arthur Honegger, Paul Le Flem, Henri Mulet, Henri Nibelle, Achille Philip, Gustave Samazeuilh, Florent Schmitt, and Canon François-Xavier Mathias. An honorable mention was granted to André Fleury for his Prélude, Andante et Toccata, and congratulations were given to Daniel-Lesur for his work La Vie intérieure.
Bonnal’s symphony is a free paraphrase in three movements that correspond to the following texts from Septuagesima Sunday, the first of three Sundays before the Lenten season:

1. In the midst of Life we deal with Death. To whom can we turn if not to You, Savior, who has suffered so much for our sins.
2. Holy and Merciful Savior, do not deliver us to a bitter death. Our fathers have hoped in You, and You have delivered them.
3. Our fathers have cried toward You; they cried, and they were not disappointed. Holy God, God full of strength, do not deliver us to a bitter death.
The first movement, rather slow and very calm, presents two themes: the first one is contrapuntal; the second is like a chorale. In the second movement, a luminous trio—a sort of colorful arabesque (with the Positive Nazard, Flute 4' and Tierce 13⁄5' in the right hand, the Swell 8' foundation stops in the left hand and the Pedal 8' and 4' stops)—seems to express the hope mentioned in the text; after a section on the Swell Voix Celeste with a Flute 4' in the Pedal, the piece ends on an A-flat major chord with a quiet 16' in the Pedal. The third movement, which uses themes from the other movements, becomes increasingly flamboyant, leading to a free, lyrical second melody on the Positive Clarinet 8', followed by an arabesque on the Great Harmonic Flute 8'. After a progressive crescendo with the theme announced tutti in the Pedal, two measures of silence and a brief return to the Clarinet solo, there is a final distressful cry. Bonnal dedicated this work to his friend Joseph Bonnet who greatly appreciated it:
Ta nouvelle œuvre est magnifique, d’une grande profondeur de sentiment d’une haute sérénité musicale et poétique. Tu as tiré un parti excellent de la mélodie si belle et traduit les sentiments exprimés par le texte littéraire sous l’âme d’un grand artiste chrétien. Ton œuvre, comme toutes les précédentes du reste, témoigne d’une haute sincérité humaine et artistique.35

[Your new work is magnificent, a very deep, peaceful expression of great musicality and poetry. You have brought out the best in the beautiful melody and translated the feelings contained in the literary text as expressed by a great Christian artist. Your work, like all of your previous ones, testifies to an utmost human and artistic sincerity.]

In this same letter, Bonnet advised Bonnal to contact the publisher Leduc, who, thanks to Bonnet’s intervention, published this work in 1933. Bonnet played this symphony on numerous occasions, notably for a mass at Saint-Eustache Church in Paris on January 28, 1934. He also recorded it for the BBC. Encouraged by these successes, which placed him in the upper ranks of the French organ scene, Bonnal participated in a series of eight recitals organized by the Amis de l’Orgue on the Mutin organ at Saint-Bernard College in Bayonne.

His adherence to the neo-classical organ
Around 1930, Bonnal had been appointed titular organist at Saint-André Church in Bayonne, a neo-Gothic church built 1856–1869. The 32-stop, three-manual organ was built in 1863 by the Wenner et Götty firm from Bordeaux (Georges Wenner and Jacques Götty founded their firm in Bordeaux in 1848). This organ was a gift to the city from Napoléon III. When a vault collapsed above the organ loft in December 1895, Gaston Maille, who had taken over the Wenner firm in 1882, restored this symphonic organ from 1898 to 1902; an electric blower was installed probably during the 1920s. (See photo 3.)
In 1933, Bonnal supervised the restoration of this instrument by Victor Gonzalez, in collaboration with André Marchal, who had a home in Hendaye, and Norbert Dufourcq, much of whose family lived in Labastide-Clairence, a village about 20 kilometers from Bayonne. Bonnal described its neo-classical aesthetic:
on the Swell, we added a Plein-Jeu II and a Clairon that came from the Positive; on the Positive, some new stops were installed: Nazard, Doublette and Tierce, replacing the Gambe, Trompette and Clairon; for early music, the Clarinet was transformed into a Cromorne . . . The deteriorated pneumatic elements were replaced with a modified tubular system which provided more rapid and perfect precision . . .36
Finally, this 35-stop instrument was entirely revoiced to give more fullness to the foundation stops and more distinction to the reed stops. (See photo 4.)

Saint-André Church, Bayonne
Wenner et Götty / Maille (1902) / Gonzalez (1933)

I. GRAND ORGUE (56 notes)
16' Montre
8' Montre
8' Bourdon
8' Flûte Harmonique
4' Prestant
22⁄3' Nazard
2' Doublette
Plein-Jeu IV
Cornet V (C3)
16' Bombarde
8' Trompette
4' Clairon

II. POSITIF (56 notes)
16' Bourdon
8' Principal
8' Bourdon
8' Salicional
4' Flûte
22⁄3' Nazard
2' Doublette
13⁄5' Tierce
8' Cromorne

III. RÉCIT (56 notes)
8' Cor de nuit
8' Violoncelle
8' Flûte Harmonique
8' Voix Céleste
4' Flûte Octaviante
2'/1' Plein-Jeu II
8' Voix Humaine
8' Basson-Hautbois
8' Trompette Harmonique
4' Clairon

PÉDALE (30 notes)
16' Flûte
8' Flûte
16' Bombarde
8' Trompette

Combination Pedals: Thunderstorm Pedal, G.O./Péd, Pos/Péd, Réc/Péd; Pos./G.O., Réc/G.O.; Réc./Pos; Réc/G.O. 4, Pos/G.O. 16. To activate the Reeds: on the Réc, Pos and G.O. To activate the G.O. keyboard. To activate the Pos Mixtures; Réc Tremulant.

Pistons under the G.O. keyboard: Soft Foundation stops, Foundations 8 and 4, Foundations 8, 4 and 2, Tutti Plein-Jeu, General Tutti.

Bonnal performed the inaugural recital on September 27, 1933:

I.
J. S. Bach’s Toccata and Fugue
A Sarabande grave by François Couperin
Father Martini’s Gavotte (for the new “carillon-like stop” [the Swell Plein-Jeu II])
N. de Grigny’s Trio en dialogue (utilizing the Cromorne stop)
D. Buxtehude’s Fugue in C major

II.
C. Franck’s Third Choral
Tournemire’s L’Orgue mystique, Op. 57 (nos. 1–4), which had been dedicated to him
Joseph Bonnet’s Epithalamé, Op. 5 (1909)
E. Bonnal’s Cloches dans le ciel (first public performance).
On November 8, 1933, Bonnal’s organ students gave another concert:

Irène Darricau performed two pieces by J. J. Lemmens
Jeanne Larre (Vierne)
Renée Gemain (Franck)
Marylis Bonnal [his daughter] (a piece by Périlhou)
Mady Galtier, the organist at the Saint-Charles Church in Biarritz (a Bach Fugue)
Christian d’Elbée (Franck’s First Choral)
Ermend Bonnal (his own Paysages euskariens).

This beautiful organ has remained unchanged to this day and was classified as a historical monument in 2001. According to the present titular organist, Etienne Rousseau-Plotto, in addition to the French symphonic repertory, French organ music from the 1930s sounds absolutely spectacular on this organ.37
In 1933, the same year as the restoration of the Saint-André organ in Bayonne, Tournemire had requested the Société Cavaillé-Coll firm to modify his own historic 1858 A. Cavaillé-Coll organ at Sainte-Clotilde Basilica in Paris. According to an article by Bérenger de Miramon Fitz-James,38 following the reinauguration of this organ on June 30, 1933, the following ten stops had been added to this instrument: a Cornet on the Grand-Orgue; a Tierce and a Piccolo on the Positif; a Quintaton 16', a Nazard, a Tierce, a Plein-Jeu IV and a Bombarde on the Récit; and a Bourdon 16' and a Quinte 51⁄3' in the Pedal. The wind pressure was lowered on the Positif, the Positif Unda Maris was transformed into a Salicional, and the Positif Clarinet was moved to the Récit. In addition, a new console was installed with three 61-note manuals and a 32-note pedalboard, along with numerous pedal combinations. Following this restoration, a series of seven benefit recitals was given to help cover the restoration expenses. On March 22, 1934. Bonnal ended the fourth concert, given with the following artists who performed their own works:

Daniel-Lesur – La Vie intérieure
Olivier Messiaen – Diptyque
André Fleury – Prélude, Andante, Toccata
Maurice Duruflé – Adagio and Choral varié on the “Veni Creator”
Ermend Bonnal – Symphonie sur le Répons “Media Vita”

In 1934, Bonnal was awarded the Prix Durand (with Guy Ropartz) as well as the Grand Prix of a wine competition in Bordeaux for his Hymn au Vin. Bonnal then gave a series of prestigious organ concerts. On March 28, 1936, he performed a recital on Emile Bourdon’s organ at the Monaco Cathedral. On September 1, 1936, he inaugurated, with André Marchal, the organ restored by Victor Gonzalez at the Bayonne Cathedral. On January 28, 1937, he performed his own La Vallée du Béhorléguy au matin in the eighth concert of La Spirale at the Schola Cantorum, with his fellow colleagues: Jehan Alain (Suite), Olivier Messiaen (Jules Le Febvre’s Prélude, Aria et Final and selections from his La Nativité du Seigneur [Les Bergers, La Vierge et l’Enfant, and Les Anges]); Daniel-Lesur premiered his own Cinq Hymnes; Jean Langlais, his own Hommage à Francesco Landino and Mors et resurrectio; and André Fleury, his own Deux mouvements (Très lent and Vif et agité). How exciting it must have been to attend this concert! On April 26, 1937, Bonnal inaugurated the Debierre organ in the Preparatory School at the Aire-sur-Adour Seminary.
In the mid 1930s, both Bonnal and Tournemire were drawn to St. Francis of Assisi. On July 19, 1933, Bonnal had thanked Tournemire for having sent him his Fioretti pieces:

J’admire qu’après le monument qu’est l’Orgue mystique vous puissiez écrire d’autres pièces en renouvelant encore votre style. Une telle abondance dans sa richesse est une chose magnifique et si rare qu’on ne l’avait pas vue depuis Bach! Quel haut exemple vous êtes pour nous: vos disciples! Donc merci mon bon maître et ami d’être la lumière qui nous aide à avancer dans la voie difficile, mais belle!

[I admire that after the monument which is the Orgue mystique that you can write other pieces while continually renewing your style. Such a rich abundance, so magnificent and rare, has not been seen since Bach! What a noble example you are for us, your disciples! Therefore, thank you my dear master and friend to be such a light which helps us to advance on the difficult but beautiful path.]

A year and a half later, on May 7, 1935, Bonnal’s Franciscan Poems39 were performed in a concert at the Grand Théâtre in Bordeaux, broadcast live on the radio. That same year, Tournemire and his second wife, Alice, became members of the third order of Saint Francis of Assisi. In 1937, Tournemire finished a theatrical work that crowned his career: Il Poverello di Assisi, Op. 73 (five lyrical episodes in seven scenes on a text by Joséphin Péladan).40 Both Bonnal’s and Tournemire’s two monumental works, centered around this great saint, certainly prepared the way for Olivier Messiaen’s future opera Saint François d’Assise (1983).

His positions in Paris
In 1938, the French Institut awarded Bonnal the coveted Prix Lassere for his compositions. On September 3, 1939, the Second World War broke out. On November 3, Tournemire died mysteriously, leaving the organist post vacant at Sainte-Clotilde Basilica in Paris. However, since the government had closed the church (which was located just across from the Ministry of War) for fear of bombings, no successor was named. Bonnal did indeed write a text for L’Orgue in homage of Tournemire, entitled “L’Homme et L’Oeuvre,” which was published in March, 1940.41
In the summer of 1940, Sainte-Clotilde Basilica reopened. The organ was played during services by Bernard Schulé (1909–1996), an organ student of Joseph Bonnet who was the titular at the British Embassy Church since 1935 and who had substituted at Sainte-Clotilde for Tournemire since fall 1938. Schulé was a close friend of both Norbert Dufourcq and André Marchal.42
In 1941, Bonnal returned to live in Paris, where he was appointed to work with Henri Busser as Inspecteur Général de l’Enseignement Musical à la Direction des Beaux-Arts [General Inspector of Musical Education for the Direction of Fine Arts] throughout France. Dufourcq then organized a competition to determine Tournemire’s successor at Sainte-Clotilde. It was supposed to take place on December 20, 1941, precisely at 1:30 p.m. According to the announcement, the public was invited to attend with free admission; the church was to be heated. The candidates (Jean Langlais, Antoine Reboulot, and Daniel-Lesur) were to improvise a prelude and fugue and the verses of a hymn and to perform a work each by Bach, Franck, and Tournemire. Daniel-Lesur, who was supported by Olivier Messiaen, was hoping to compete. However, this competition was cancelled, due to the fact that many of the possible candidates were held as prisoners or were demobilized in the free zone during the war, thereby preventing them from coming to Paris to officially apply for this post. This was, in any case, Daniel-Lesur’s situation. On December 14, 1941, Norbert Dufourcq wrote a letter to Jean Langlais, informing him that the competition would occur at a later date.43
Then it was decided that an interim organist would be designated at Saint-Clotilde until a competition could be held after the war. When Sainte-Clotilde reopened in February, 1942, Canon Verdrie, the church priest, named Bonnal as titular without a competition, due to his fame as a well-known and respected musician who had been highly recommended by Count Bérenger de Miramon Fitz-James. After his nomination to this prestigious post, Bonnal thus became the successor to his lifelong friend and professor, Charles Tournemire.44 According to Bonnal’s daughter Marylis, numerous prominent musicians encouraged him to accept this post (notably Norbert Dufourcq, Béranger de Miramon Fitz-James, André Marchal, Noëlie Pierront, Gaston Poulet, René Calvet). Bonnal rarely remained in Paris since he often traveled throughout France to inspect conservatories. Thankfully, Schulé was able to substitute for him. (See photo 5, page 28.)
Bonnal felt that making music in French conservatories during this tragic time represented a sign of hope for the future. He encouraged students to maintain the following objectives:

D’abord le travail et la discipline dans l’effort: c’est à dire les deux ferments qui forgent, grandissent et trempent les caractères, purifient et annoblissent les ambitions. Ensuite: la recherche constante de la qualité. Songez qu’il ne doit pas vous suffire d’être d’excellents virtuoses possédant de sérieuses qualités techniques, il vous faut devenir d’authentiques musiciens.
La musique vous la découvrirez dans la pratique quotidienne, dans la fréquentation permanente des grands musiciens, des Bach, Mozart et Beethoven, pour n’en citer que trois parmi les plus grands. Vous devez par la méditation fréquente, essayer d’entrer en communion avec l’âme de ces grands humains qui furent de très grands penseurs. N’en jouer, même parfaitement, que le texte musical, c’est n’en connaître que la lettre, mais cela ne suffit pas, il vous faut en rechercher l’Esprit.
Soyez donc très ambitieux spirituellement et vous aurez un jour la surprise de découvrir la musique là où elle se trouve, en son seul domaine qui est celui des mouvements de l’Ame, de la connaissance humaine . . . en un mot: de la poésie!
Je n’ai jamais oublié ce mot admirable que me dit un jour mon cher ami Paul Dukas: “il n’y a pas d’art sans poésie.”45

[First of all, one must work and discipline one’s efforts: this will forge, expand and solidify one’s character, purify and ennoble one’s ambition . . . Constantly search for quality; it’s not enough to be an excellent virtuoso with a serious technique, you must become authentic musicians.
You must daily discover the great musicians: Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, to mention only these three among the greatest. Through frequent meditations, you must try to enter in communion with the souls of these great people who were very great thinkers. It does not suffice to play the musical text perfectly, this only allows you to know the letter; you must look for the Spirit.
Dare therefore to be spiritually ambitious and you will one day be surprised to discover that music belongs to the exclusive field . . . of poetry!
I’ll never forget the admirable words of my dear friend Paul Dukas who told me one day: “There is no art without poetry.”]

During the war, Bonnal took his vacations each August at Saint-Sever (in the Landes). He stayed in the home of Father Binsoll, the priest in Arièle, a nearby village. Each day, Bonnal visited his dear friends Ambroise Dupouy (organist at the Abbatial Church in Saint-Sever since 1840—who was responsible for the installation of its beautiful A. Cavaillé-Coll organ there in 1898—who died at the end of World War II), and his son Jean Dupouy (1896–1965), who succeeded him. Ambroise Dupouy’s daughter Jeanine, born in 1922, took daily lessons with Bonnal and her father. She has testified to Bonnal’s rigorous and severe approach, emphasizing his noble ideas and his meticulous care concerning details of touch, phrasing and fingering.
At the beginning of his summer vacation in 1844, Bonnal gave an organ concert with Jean Etchepare’s Double Vocal Quartet at Saint-André Church in Bayonne on Monday, July 31, 1944 at 3:45 p.m. This may seem like an odd time to give a concert, but this was due to the fact that many of the organ concerts in churches at that time served as an introduction and a conclusion to the exposition and benediction of the Holy Sacrament. Bonnal’s eclectic programs combined classical music with the popular traditional Basque repertory:

J. S. Bach: Toccata and Fugue (in D minor)
C. Franck: First Choral
A Basque Cantique (sung by the Double Vocal Quartet)
C. Franck: Second Choral
E. Bonnal: Joie et Joie for a men’s choir, set to a text by Loÿs Labèque
C. Franck: Third Choral
Improvisation on a given theme (by E. Bonnal)

E. Bonnal: O Salutaris
Josquin des Près: Ave Vera Virginitas
E. Bonnal: Tantum Ergo (in the Basque style) (sung during the exposition and benediction of the Most Holy Sacrament)
To conclude, Bonnal played J. S. Bach’s Chorale on the Veni Creator (most certainly his Fantasia super “Komm heiliger Geist, Herre Gott,” BWV 651).

Following this concert on July 31, Bonnal went to Saint-Sever to rehearse for a “Grand Concert Spirituel” that he was planning to give on Friday, September 8, 1944, at the Abbatial Church there, in collaboration with the Calvet Quartet and the Parish Schola directed by the organist Jean Dupouy. The proposed program:

I.
J. S. Bach: Toccata and Fugue (in D minor)

II.
N. de Grigny: Trio en dialogue
F. Couperin: Sarabande grave
N. Clérambault: Dialogue du 1er Ton
Cl. Balbastre: Noël (“Joseph est bien marié”)

III.
Händel: Sonata (in D major) for organ and violin (with Joseph Calvet)

IV.
E. Bonnal: Paysage landais
Noël landais
Improvisation (on a given theme)

V.
Maurice Ravel: Quatuor (played by the Calvet Quartet during the exposition and benediction of the Holy Sacrament)
At the end, Bonnal had programmed C. Franck’s Final.

During his visits to rehearse in Saint-Sever, the following photo was taken (See photo 6).
Unfortunately, Bonnal’s deteriorating health, due to his many personal sacrifices and concerns during the war, provoked a stroke that led to his death in Bordeaux, on August 14, 1944. This occurred just two and a half years after his appointment to Sainte-Clotilde46 and only twelve days after Joseph Bonnet’s own death.47 In the midst of the liberation of Paris, Bonnal’s daughter Marylis learned about her father’s death while listening to the radio! During this difficult time, Bonnal was buried in Bordeaux.
In 1945, Bonnal’s wife Hélène moved with her young children to Anglet. She survived, thanks to the generosity of an American organist, Mr. MacEvans, who was an officer in the American Army. He also directed a choir at the American University in Biarritz. To this day, Bonnal’s family is still extremely grateful for Mr. MacEvans’ kindness. In addition, André Marchal gave several benefit concerts for Bonnal’s family. On September 18, 1949, at Saint-André Church in Bayonne, with the singer Madame Malnory-Marsillac, the program included works by Bach, Couperin, Franck, Tournemire, and Bonnal (the second movement of his “Media Vita” Symphony). On May 15, 1952, Marchal performed another concert on the Saint-André organ in Bayonne, in Bonnal’s memory, with commentaries by Norbert Dufourcq, for the Jeunesses Musicales de France. This group was highly promoted in the Basque region by Bonnal’s very close friend, Joseph Calvet. Marchal’s eclectic program displayed the various tonal colors of this organ:

Louis Couperin - Chaconne in G minor
François Couperin – “Kyrie,” 5 verses from the Mass for the Parishes
J. S. Bach – Chorale: Christ lag in Todesbanden
C. Franck – Prélude, Fugue et Variation
Louis Vierne – “Final” from the First Symphony.
In 1975, Ermend Bonnal’s body was transported from Bordeaux to the Arcangues cemetery, in the Pyrenees mountains, an area he loved dearly. For this occasion, Henri Sauguet rendered homage to Bonnal’s positive inspiration on his own personal career as well as his contribution to 20th-century French music. Sauguet evoked Francis Jammes’ poem written in homage to Ermend Bonnal:

Taillé dans le dur bois d’un chêne harmonieux,
Ton pur profil, Bonnal, se confond avec l’orgue;
Mais de nous déchiffrer le silence des cieux
Ne te remplis jamais de vile et sotte morgue.
Comme aux astres, le jour, voilés par leur pudeur,
L’ombre est ce qui convient à ta noble carrière.
Ah! que tombe la nuit, et toute ta splendeur
Saura la consteller de notes de lumières.

[Carved in the hard wood of a harmonious oak tree,
Your pure profile, Bonnal, is merged with the organ;
But we must fathom the silence of the heavens
Which never fills you with a vile and foolish arrogance.
Like the stars, during the day, veiled by their modesty,
Darkness is most suitable to your noble career.
Ah! May the night fall, and all of your splendor
Will spangle it with enlightened notes.]

Conclusion
Joseph Ermend Bonnal belonged to a generation of artists from Bordeaux who possessed a high degree of moral perfection in their art and in their personal lives. They all shared a common, spiritual artistic vision, devoid of material ambitions, only desiring to serve music with deep, devoted love and passion. Inspired by the renewal of both traditional and early music, Bonnal formed numerous musical societies to promote this repertory. He left us an important heritage of deeply poetical pieces inspired by the rich culture of the Basque region. The intact organ at Saint-André Church in Bayonne testifies to his adherence to the French Neo-Classical organ. A prominent composer, music educator and administrator, a first-rate improviser and performer, Bonnal was indeed a dignified successor to his master and friend, Charles Tournemire, as titular organist at the Sainte-Clotilde Basilica in Paris. Bonnal served his art with humility. In spite of the numerous obstacles he encountered during his lifetime, Bonnal’s noble aspirations, along with the faithful support of his friends, enabled him to pursue his ongoing quest for perfection.

Acknowledgements
Carolyn Shuster Fournier warmly expresses her gratitude to: Mayette Bonnal, François and Marylis Raoul-Duval (members of Bonnal’s family), Madame Catherine Massip and Madame Vallet-Collot of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Cécile Auzolle, Madame Marie-Françoise Romaine Brown-Bonnet, Aurélie Decourt, Madame Janine Dupouy, Brigitte de Leersnyder, Jacqueline Englert-Marchal, Adolphine and François Marchal, Yannick Merlin, Etienne Rousseau-Plotto Marie-Christine Ugo-Lhôte, and to the Ruth and Clarence Mader Memorial Scholarship Fund for its grant in 2006.

Paris Week, July 2-9, 2001

Kay McAfee is professor of organ and music history at Henderson State University in Arkadelphia, Arkansas, where she also serves as organist for First United Methodist Church.

The ninth biennial seminar attracted 80 participants who assembled in Paris anticipating the first week of playing time on the great instruments, lessons and classes with master teachers, participants' recitals, and the hospitality of our gracious hosts. At the Paris Conservatory, director Christina Harmon introduced co-director Marie-Louise Langlais, who received a warm round of applause. Participants introduced themselves and greeted old friends from previous seminars. Two student scholarship winners were announced: Josh Melson of Cherry Hill, New Jersey and a student at Centenary College in Shreveport, Louisiana; and Victor Johnson, a student at the University of Texas at Arlington and organist/composer-in-residence at Hamilton Park Baptist Church in Richardson, Texas.

The seminar always includes discourses about the instruments, improvisations by resident organists, and playing time for participants at the Schola Cantorum, Notre Dame de Paris, Les Invalides, Saint-Roch, La Madeleine, Sainte-Clotilde, La Trinité, Notre-Dame-des-Champs, Saint-Severin, Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, and Saint-Sulpice. The itinerary this year added visits to Notre Dame d'Auteuil, Saint-Augustin, Saint-Vincent-de-Paul, Saint-Eustace, and Dupré's home at Meudon.

Group and private lessons took place throughout the week with instructors Yanka Hekimova (Saint Eustace), Naji Hakim (La Trinité), Françoise Levechin (Saint-Roch), Lynne Davis (American Cathedral), François Espinasse (Saint Severin), Susan Landale (Les Inva-lides), and Marie-Louise Langlais (Sainte-Clotilde).

Participants who had contributed to the student scholarship fund were treated to a lovely wine and cheese reception at the apartment of Daniel and Odile Roth. Roth led everyone to his basement studio which houses a two-manual organ and a grand piano. The walls are filled with posters, memorabilia, and photographs, including those of Schweitzer, Widor, Bach, Franck, and Conrad Bernier. Letters and musical quotes from Kodály, Widor, Schmitt, Messiaen, Guilmant, and Deutilleux overlook the study. Later in the week, Roth, titular organist at Saint-Sulpice, would give the history of the instrument, improvise, and spend nearly six hours assisting participants to play.

Paris Conservatory

At the Conservatory, Jean-Charles Robin, 19-year-old student of Mme. Langlais, improvised on the tune "National Hymn" (God of Our Fathers), given an interesting twist by David Erwin who submitted it. Mme. Langlais solicited literature and performers for the participants' recital at St-Roch.

Saint-Augustin

Saint-Augustin, within short walking distance of the Paris Conservatory, was Gigout's church. He was titulaire there from 1863 until his death in 1925. Assistant organist Didier Matry played Gigout, a Cochereau improvisation, and his own improvisation.

Saint-Roch

Sylvie Mallet, David Erwin, and Mme. Langlais assisted for the recital at St-Roch. Advertised in the Paris weekly publication for arts events, the program attracted a great number of listeners. Eighteen participants played the marvelous four-manual, 53-stop, 1770 Clicquot instrument which was restored and enlarged by Cavaillé-Coll from 1840 to 1862. It boasts reeds which are among the most powerful in Paris. Literature included works by de Grigny, du Mage, François and Louis Couperin, Clérambault, Hakim, Vierne, Honegger, Langlais, Salomé, Widor, Sejan, and Lanquetuit. Performers included Mary Milligan (Denver, Colorado), Yolanda Yang (Irvine, California), Jay MacCubbin (Providence, Rhode Island), Helen Van Abbema Rodgers (Fairhope, Alabama), Shinook Lee (New York City), Josh Melson, Thomas Hanna (West Palm Beach, Florida), Jack W. Jones (Palm Beach, Florida), Esther Wideman (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania), Kay McAfee (Arkadelphia, Arkansas), Carl Schwartz (Silver Spring, Maryland), Eunice Ford (Huntsville, Alabama), David Erwin (Alexandria, Virginia), John Walko (San Francisco, California), Barbara Reid (Dallas, Texas), Lois Holdridge (Fullerton, California), Angela Kraft Cross (San Francisco), and Randy Runyon (Oxford, Ohio).

La Trinité

Naji Hakim, titular organist at La Trinité, was protégé and designated successor of Messiaen. New seminar participants as well as returning veterans enjoy the devotion of Parisian organists to the heritage of their instruments and the tribute paid their predecessors. None is more enthusiastic than Hakim. Guilmant's heritage at La Trinité includes the story of his horror at returning from America to find his instrument dismantled and destroyed. Cavaillé-Coll rebuilt the organ and today it exists as the instrument best suited for Messiaen's music.

Hakim played the outer movements of Messiaen's Messe de la Pentecôte. He spoke of Messiaen's improvisation and how he freely moved within many styles: Classical, Mendelssohn, Widor. The Livre du Saint Sacrement exploits Messiaen's improvisatory gifts. Hakim played his newest composition, The Last Judgement, which incorporates plainsong melodies: "Dies Irae," "In Paradisum," Alleluia of the Epiphany, and Gloria from Missa de Angelis. He improvised on "The Star Spangled Banner" since this group was there on July 4.

Notre-Dames-des-Champs

Marie-Bernadette Dufourcet, titular organist at Notre-Dame-des-Champs, treated participants to the sound of the 90% original Cavaillé-Coll design and disposition. It contains one of the most beautiful harmonic flutes and rich montres.

Saint-Vincent-de-Paul

At Saint-Vincent-de-Paul, where Léon Boëllmann served as titular organist, Marie-Louise Langlais introduced Pierre Cambourian, the current titulaire, who played the 1849 Cavaillé-Coll choir organ. Its action and stops have remained untouched and it enjoys exquisite balance of foundations, mutations, and reeds. Of three manuals with a short Récit, it has a beautiful harmonic flute, vox humana, and 16' basson on the Récit. The church was designed in the Neo-Classical style, after La Madeleine. The four-manual Cavaillé-Coll Grand Orgue, originally comparable to the La Madeleine organ, is now of Neo-Classical design, refurbished by Gonzalez in 1970, and nothing plays on the fourth manual. It is of 66 stops, although 91 were originally planned. Participants enjoyed generous playing time.

Saint-Louis des Invalides

In the evening the entire group gathered at Église Saint Louis des Invalides to hear informative discussion and playing by Susan Landale, who is one of three organists for the church. The Thierry family built the first instrument, a four-manual organ, from 1679 to 1687. The Clicquot family (who were also in the champagne business) looked after it. Louis XIV's architect, Jules-Hardouin Mansart, designed the case with its gilded sculptures. Some pipework remains from Thierry: the cromorne, fonds, bourdon and doublette in the Grand Orgue, and Positiv nazard and 2'. In 1843 a full-scale restoration was ordered. Three firms submitted proposals: Cavaillé-Coll, Ducroquet, and the winner of the contract, Gadault. Gadault built a third-rate Romantic organ, completely destroying the Classical organ of Thierry. There are, however, very fine reeds in the Swell. The Gadault organ was dedicated in 1853.

In 1942, Bernard Gavoty, a pupil of Dupré and a respected and feared music critic, was appointed organist at Les Invalides. He moved within elegant Parisian circles, and was the right person to collect money for a rebuild of the organ. In 1955, it was decided to engage the Beuchet-Debierre firm, which was instructed to build a Neo-Classical instrument. The console was electrified and the compass of manuals and pedals extended. The chamades were added in 1979.

According to Landale, the principal miscalculation of the Neo-Classical movement was the idea that if there were mixtures one could play Bach. It didn't matter if the mixtures didn't fit well with the foundations. The other problem was cramming a large amount of pipes into a small space (the original case) in order to get more ranks. As a result, the scaling went smaller and the sound was thinner. But to consider the music of Tournemire, Duruflé, Messaien, and Langlais from 1930 to 1970 is to hear music which was influenced by the Neo-Classical sound.

The last overhaul of cleaning and tuning the organ was in 1980. There are plans for another overhaul in 2003 which will include rewiring the organ. The organ contains 61 stops, including cornets on both the Great and Swell.

Ms. Landale discussed Tournemire, his work and his legacy, and played two of the improvisations: Ave Maris Stella and Te Deum. These improvisations had been recorded at Sainte-Clotilde to wax discs in 1913. Duruflé transcribed the improvisations in the 1950s. Besides the two Tournemire improvisations, Ms. Landale played a piece by Petr Eben, who followed Tournemire's lead in the prodigious use of Gregorian chant.

Sainte-Clotilde

The entire group assembled at Sainte-Clotilde to hear Marie-Louise Langlais discuss the organ, to hear participants play, and to enjoy a demonstration and improvisation by Jacques Taddei, titular organist of Sainte-Clotilde and director of the Paris Conservatory. Mme. Langlais met the group outside to talk about the history of the church.

The parish was wealthy and Cavaillé-Coll was engaged to build the organ. The organ is 46 stops, small by Cavaillé-Coll standards. Franck served as organist here from 1859-1890. Pierne served from 1890-1898, Tournemire from 1898-1939, and Langlais from 1945- 1987. Mme. Langlais mentioned that she tried to get Langlais to retire in the mid-1980s, as he really was not able to climb the steps to the loft. He declared that he was determined to "stay one year longer than Tournemire," and he did.

Tournemire was a devotee of Baroque music, both German and Spanish. He tried to transform the Sainte-Clotilde organ to accommodate these styles. In 1933, he enlarged the Positiv by adding mutations and he also directed enlargement of the Swell. This changed the balance of the organ. More changes were made by Langlais in 1962. With Jacques Taddei and Marie-Louise Langlais as consultants, the organ is currently undergoing yet another restoration. The goal is to return it as much as possible to the original Cavaillé-Coll voicing and disposition while maintaining the tonal design for playing also the music of Tournemire and Langlais. The organ builder in charge is Bernard Dargassies, who also has worked at Saint-Augustin, La Madeleine, and Saint-Étienne-du-Mont. Restoration of the original wind pressure, addition of a second motor for the blower, and restoration of the stop action is in process. The organ, and especially the 8' foundation ensemble, sounds more powerful, while the reeds have remained unchanged. At this point, the organ is as close to the original Cavaillé-Coll since the restoration by Tournemire in 1933.

David Erwin played the Franck E Major Choral using exclusively the Franck stops including signature stops of great beauty: vox humana, Swell trompette and hautbois combined, and the solo harmonic flute. Mme. Langlais played part of the Seven Words of Christ by Tournemire, and Angela Kraft Cross played "La Nativité" from the Poèmes Évangéliques by Langlais.

Mme. Langlais introduced Jacques Taddei, who demonstrated the solo and ensemble stops of the organ: 1. Positiv and Grand Orgue flutes in a scherzo; 2. The Récit gamba and celestes with the beautiful Positiv clarinet (really a cromorne); 3. Grand Orgue trumpet with fonds of the Récit; 4. Positiv cromorne with cornet of the Grand Orgue; 5. Ensemble of fonds of the Grand Orgue and Positiv and fonds of the Swell including oboe; 6. Flutes of the Grand Orgue and Récit which have been restored as harmonic flutes; 7. Restored larigot and 1', added by Tournemire in 1913, are now more integrated into the organ. Taddei then improvised on two themes submitted by Mme. Langlais: a Breton folk song and the hymn "If thou but suffer God to guide thee."

For the July 8 Sunday Mass at Sainte-Clotilde, six seminar participants were invited by Mme. Langlais to present musical offerings during the service. Literature included: Improvisation on Ave Maris Stella (Tournemire), Louise Bass (Albuquerque, New Mexico); Grand Jeu (Corrette), John Walko; Choral Dorien (Alain), Jack Jones; "Mon âme cherche un fin paisable" (from Nine Pieces, Langlais), John Walko; "Communion" (from Suite Médiévale, Langlais), Kay McAfee; Variations on a theme of Janequin (Alain), Jill Hunt (Evanston, Illinois); "Final" (from Symphonie I, Vierne), Angela Kraft Cross.

Saint-Sulpice

At Saint-Sulpice, a massive Roman style church with rounded interior arches, tourists are dazzled by the huge paintings in its side-chapels, two of them by Delacroix. The imposing case of the Grand Orgue, designed by the 18th-century architect of the church, Monsieur Chalgrin, matches the enormity and weight of the interior. Organists at Saint-Sulpice have included Guillaume Nivers, Clérambault, Lefébure-Wély, Widor, Dupré, Grunenwald, and presently, Daniel Roth. Clicquot built the first instrument in 1781. That organ was of five manuals: Half-Récit, Half-Echo, Récit, Bombarde, Grand Orgue, and Positiv. In 1835, a proposed restoration by Callinet was begun but was abandoned; 60,000 francs and twenty years later, Cavaillé-Coll undertook the project. At the time there were three organs in the church, the Grand Orgue, a Choir organ, and a smaller instrument owned by the Dauphin. Cavaillé-Coll restored all of them, and the choir organ survives today. The grand orgue is of 102 stops, including the original Clicquot pipework which Cavaillé-Coll carefully preserved. At the completion of the work in 1862, the dedication featured César Franck, Camille Saint-Saëns, Alexandre Guilmant, and Gaylord Schmidt (the titulaire at the time). In 1863 Lefébure-Wély was appointed organist, and when he died six years later, Cavaillé-Coll recommended Widor as titulaire. Because of Widor's youth (26) and the observation that "he plays like a German," many letters of protest were written. However, Widor was named "provisional" organist and remained for 63 years. Further maintenance of the organ occurred in 1903 (Mutin, Cavaillé-Coll's successor) and in 1991 (Renaud).

Neither Widor nor his successor Dupré (1933-1971) allowed any major changes in the pipework at Saint-Sulpice through the Orgelbewegung and neo-classic movements of the 20th century. Widor supervised cleaning of the organ three times and in the 1920s an electric blower was added. Dupré had the organ cleaned and repaired in the 1950s. The unbroken tenure of over 100 years by these two organist-composers effected the presence of a largely unaltered example of Cavaillé-Coll's tonal design.

Notre Dame d'Auteuil

At Notre Dame d'Auteuil in a quiet, upscale neighborhood close to the southwest boundary of Paris, Frédéric Blanc, who was one of the last students of Marie-Madeleine Duruflé, introduced Mme. Duruflé's sister, Elaine Chevalier. She is a member of the parish and head of the new Duruflé Foundation. Blanc, a gifted musician, has been titular organist here for 21⁄2 years. The organ is very special because it is an unaltered 1885 Cavaillé-Coll. Widor and Dallier played the inauguration. Mutin restored the organ in 1912 and again in 1937-38 under the direction of Vierne and with approval from Duruflé and Dupré. An electrified console was added.

The organ was virtually ignored through the Neo-Classical movement and managed to remain untouched, primarily because the organist who preceded Blanc was there for fifty years, and the instrument remained "closed." It is of three manuals and 53 stops with both Récit and Positiv under expression.

Blanc then conducted a session concerning the tradition of improvisation practiced by French organists who study the art from the time they are young children. Improvisation is always a mix of composition and freedom. Control is necessary, with effective use of stop combinations: flutes and fonds, solo stops with celestes, and with a mixture of counterpoint and chordal harmonies. Blanc: "Start simply. Control the harmony according to theoretical principles. A chosen theme should have both melodic and rhythmic interest. In preluding for the service or providing meditation for communion, there should be a plan for the shape of the form." He talked about how ideas come quickly for the good improviser and that those ideas have to be molded quickly. The time spent practicing improvisation will result in the tools for being free with those ideas that come quickly.

Saint-Étienne-du-Mont

Across from the Pantheon and near the beautiful Luxembourg Gardens is located Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, the church where Maurice and Marie-Madeleine Duruflé served for over 50 years. There was an organ here first in 1633 to which François Clicquot contributed. Today only the magnificent case survives along with some of the original Clicquot pipes. Randy Runyon, French professor at Miami of Ohio University, introduced and translated for Vincent Warnier, the talented young winner of the Grand Prix International d'Orgue de Chartres in 1992, who assumed the post of titulaire here upon the death of Mme. Duruflé.

Warnier related the history of the organ, which evolved very differently than other Parisian instruments. In the 19th century, when the romantic and symphonic sound was valued, Cavaillé-Coll was asked to restore the organ, the work for which was completed in 1863. He added many Romantic voices--fonds, harmonic flute, an expressive Récit with voix celeste--and a Barker machine.

In 1930, at age 28, Duruflé was named titlular organist. He arrived to find the organ virtually unplayable, and with Vierne and Dupré, they envisioned a restoration. But WWII intervened. Duruflé had to play a choir organ of only 12 stops for 25 years. In 1955 the organ was finally restored. Duruflé had been Vierne's assistant at Notre-Dame and he very much wanted to recreate that organ here. The 48 ranks became 90, and the new electrified console was placed to the right of the instrument.

Because the original case was small, the pipes were spread out. Above the west entrance doors, pipes are visible with some placed on their sides. The Echo manual is completely to the side of the original case, and gives a sense of mystery to the tonal palette. This is not an historical restoration, but the dynamic range is enormous, with impressionistic colors and an impressive tutti. In 1989, Mme. Duruflé enlisted the Dargassies firm to restore the organ. At that time the console was further modernized, mixtures were revoiced, and fonds and an en chamade were added. Today the organ is an eclectic instrument.

La Madeleine

At La Madeleine, François Henri-Houbart, titular organist for the past 22 years, related the history of the colorful musicians and composers who have served this most civic and visible of Parisian churches. During Lefébure-Wély's era in the early 19th century, the church was considered "an annex of the Opéra Comique," because the music heard was often of the salon and theatrical varieties. When Houbart arrived, the organ was in a poor state of repair. Houbart oversaw a restoration of the windchests, the restoration of the wind pressure as prescribed by Cavaillé-Coll, and the modification of the newer stops so that they integrate well within the original pipework.

The organ (1845-46) is Cavaillé-Coll's second large instrument after Saint-Dénis and Notre-Dame-de-Lorette. This instrument, originally of 48 stops, represents the transition to the Romantic-symphonic ethos of Cavaillé-Coll. The fonds, reeds, and plein jeu provide a Classic foundation (after Dom Bédos). There is no cromorne or cornet. The Récit is the same as Sainte-Clotilde but without the voix celeste. The organ has a large quantity of flutes, especially harmonic flutes, representing Cavaillé-Coll's transition to the orchestral organ. Today the organ has 58 stops, with 46 from the original instrument.

The organ underwent a restoration in 1927 for which Widor played the dedicatory recital. The program included his Suite Latine, which was written for the occasion. The console was electrified in 1971. The heritage of organists include Fessy, Lefébure-Wély, Saint-Saëns, Dubois, Fauré, Dallier, and Demes-sieux. Fauré was first the choir organist and he assisted Saint-Saëns. When Fauré became titulaire, Nadia Bou-langer was his assistant. Clara Schumann, Franz Liszt, and Anton Rubenstein frequented the organ loft.

The choir organ was also built by Cavaillé-Coll. At first it had only one keyboard, but he added another to encompass 20 stops. It was restored in 1997. The bassoon, oboe, and clarion are original stops. Houbart's fine improvisation included demonstration of the Cavaillé-Coll stops, then of the newer stops, then all together. Houbart related that once every three years he plays an all-Lefébure-Wély Mass, which he would do that evening at 6 pm, Sunday at 11 am, and Sunday evening at 6 pm. For participants who wanted to attend, about ten people at a time could visit the organ loft. He mentioned that Lefébure-Wély  wrote a number of excellent anthems and choral music for the Mass, and that Saint-Saëns, who was a detractor, actually admired his improvisations.

Schola Cantorum

At the Schola Cantorum, Mme. Langlais told of the school and its Mutin organ (Mutin took over the firm after Cavaillé-Coll's death). Founded in 1896 by Charles Bordes, Alexandre Guilmant, and Vincent d'Indy, it was established for the study of the restoration of Gregorian chant after Solesmes and to re-introduce the Grand Orgue. The Schola was not as competitive as the Conservatory. A temple of "non-official" music, teachers included Guilmant, Vierne, the Duruflés, Grunenwald, Langlais, Satie, Martin˚u, and Turina. Students included Milhaud, Roussel, and Debussy.

One of Mme. Langlais's students, Verouchka Nikitine, played a fine recital which included Vierne, "Allegro et Cantilene" (Symphonie 3); Widor, "Allegro" (Symphonie 6); Langlais, "Communion" (Suite Médiévale); and Jean-Louis Florentz (b. 1947), two movements from Laudes. Participants enjoyed a light buffet supper prepared by Mme. Langlais and her daughter Caroline.

Participants chose among several churches to attend Sunday morning. The afternoon event was a recital at Notre-Dame-de-Paris which consisted of music of Mendelssohn and Bach. The church was full and pleasantly respectful as the recital proceeded. The organist experienced difficulty with registration changes, and it was somewhat disappointing to hear an all-German recital on this, the largest instrument in Paris. Playing time was allowed after the cathedral closed its doors to the public.

Saint-Étienne, Caen, Chartres

Participants boarded a bus for the 200 kilometer drive through the lovely countryside to Normandy and the city of Caen. Saint-Étienne houses a large Cavaillé-Coll instrument which is a-mong the three finest and largely unaltered organs of the builder. The others are at Saint-Sulpice and at Saint-Ouen in Rouen. Phillip Klais, president of the Klais firm of Bonn, Germany, introduced tonal director Heinz-Gunter Habbig. Habbig studied with the last voicer of the Cavaillé-Coll tradition, and he has made extensive studies of the organs at Saint-Ouen, Saint-Omer, Saint-Sulpice, and Saint-Sernin. Habek has directed several Cavaillé-Coll restorations, and his presentation of this instrument and discussion of the Cavaillé-Coll ethos was filled with reverence for the work of such a master craftsman.

The Abbey Church of Caen was a famous center of art education in the Middle Ages, but there is no record of an organ until the 15th century. In May of 1562, Protestants ransacked the church and ruined the organ. 200 years later, in 1737, the monks engaged a builder in Ouen and that organ's oak case, from 1741, its towers crowned with flower pots, remains today. On February 10, 1745, the organ was completed, a remarkable 18th-century specimen with five manuals and 61 stops. The first three manuals had a compass of 53 notes, a first in France, and the pedal was complete with a 16' and cornet.

The organ was endangered during the French revolution but suffered only neglect. In 1859 there was a restoration, and by 1877 more repairs were needed, and Cavaillé-Coll was asked to give an opinion. It was decided, with approval of Guilmant, that the old case and old façade pipes would be retained, with an addition of 8 stops. New wind chests and blower, new action, and new pipework were built in one year; the manual compass was increased to 56 notes. On March 3, 1885, Guilmant played the dedication recital. Repairs were needed in 1899 and the organ was given excellent care through to 1944. In January of 1975, the Secretary of Culture placed the instrument on the National Register of Historic Monuments. In 1998-99 there was another restoration.

Lynne Davis, a native of Michigan who has lived in France for 30 years, has for five years been Professor of the National Regional Conservatory at Caen. She studied with Marie-Claire Alain, Jean Langlais, and the Duruflés. Her studio of 20-25 students is privileged to practice and take lessons at Saint-Étienne and also to play the choir organ which is a Baroque instrument. After speaking of her immense affection for this great instrument, Ms. Davis played "Nef" and "Rosace" from Byzantine Sketches by Mulet, Cantabile by Franck, and Toccata by Vierne. Participants were then allowed generous playing time.

Part of the group continued on to Chartres to hear assistant organist Laurent Bois play and then all had the opportunity to play the great 1971 Danion-Gonzalez organ of 69 stops.

Participants returned to Paris and prepared to depart for Alsace for the second week of the French Organ Music Seminar.

(A report on the Alsace week will appear in a later issue of The Diapason.)