César Franck (Died on November 8, 1890) Rejected Gems of Precocity

by Hermione Lai 

César Franck’s genius flowered astonishingly late. Until his 50s, he composed mostly sacred choral works, songs, and early orchestral essays that met with indifference. Public acclaim eluded him as even his 1841 Trio dedicated to Franz Liszt faded quickly.

César Franck

Yet from 1879 onward, a creative surge produced masterpieces that redefined French music. Just think of the passionate Piano Quintet, the vivid symphonic poem Le Chasseur maudit, the Symphonic Variations or the Prélude, Choral et Fugue.   

César Franck: Prélude, Choral et Fugue

Disowning his Youth

These works fused German structural depth with elegance, influencing Ravel, Debussy, and the entire École Franckiste. Yet, Franck remained a modest man, dying on 8 November 1890 after a street accident exacerbated pleurisy.

In his early years, however, Franck displayed an astonishing natural gift for the piano and composition. He was one of the most astonishing child prodigies ever, giving public concerts of dazzling difficulty, improvising with effortless invention, and composing works that revealed a striking command of harmony and form.

Franck assigned opus numbers to his juvenile works, but later in life, disowned them. To commemorate his passing on 8 November, why don’t we listen to some of these rejected gems of Franck’s early precocity.

Child Genius

César Franck

Just imagine a twelve-year-old boy stepping onto a candle-lit stage in Liège, in 1834. César Franck launches into his own Premier Grand Concerto, Op. 2, with octaves thundering and themes pirouetting like circus acrobats.

The king sends him a gold medal, and critics hail him as “a second Mozart!” Yet the boy at the keyboard was already bored. He has just finished writing his second piano concerto before breakfast.

Relentlessly exploited by his father and reduced to a traveling cash register, Franck’s childhood was anything but ideal. Nicolas-Joseph Franck, a failed painter turned banker, saw in his elder son the jackpot every stage parent dreams of.

By eight, César was enrolled at the Liège Conservatory, sweeping medals in piano, harmony, and sight-singing. By eleven he gave his first public recital. By twelve he was on the road to Brussels and Antwerp billed as “The Prodigy Franck.”

César Arrives in Paris

Franz Liszt and Sigismond Thalberg

Predictably, it was time to look towards Paris, a city that in the 1830s was a circus of virtuosos. Liszt made pianos weep and Thalberg made them sparkle. Into this dazzling arena Nicolas-Joseph Franck dragged his sons, renting cramped rooms in the bohemian ninth arrondissement.

César, thirteen, played for Anton Reicha, Beethoven’s friend, and the Conservatoire’s gatekeeper of genius. The boy sight-read a Bach fugue, then improvised another, yet the doors of the Conservatoire remained closed as foreigners could not be admitted.

Nicolas-Joseph, undeterred, secured French citizenship papers with remarkable speed, and on 4 October 1837, the fifteen-year-old César Franck strode through the gates as a newly minted Frenchman.

Quiet Conquest

César Franck

What followed was five years of quiet conquest. One by one, the Conservatoire’s highest honours fell before him. 1er Prix de Piano (1838, age fifteen), 1er Prix de Contrepoint (1839), 1er Prix de Fugue (1840, age seventeen), 2ème Prix d’Orgue (1841), and the Grand Prix d’Honneur for transposing a fiendish sonata down a minor third at sight.

When examiners challenged him to improvise a fugue on a theme by Cherubini, he produced a double fugue so brilliant that the aging composer himself, seated in the audience, was speechless.

Another wonderful anecdote survives. In 1838, examiners asked the boy to harmonize a plainchant on the spot. He delivered four versions, with harmonies by Bach, Palestrina, Beethoven, and himself.

The Cash-Cow Variations

Between 1834 and 1837, César Franck produced twenty publishable piano works, gave each an opus number, and watched his father turn them into cash. These pieces in the brilliant style sound like a time capsule of 1830s Paris.

We find the cash cow of the decade in his “Variations brillantes.” Take a hit tune, spin six variations, and finish with a polonaise. Here, young Franck was guided by models of Herz, Hünten, and the young Thalberg.

We also find free-form roller-coasters in his “Grandes Fantaisies.” Generally, it starts with a slow introduction, followed by a borrowed tune that gets dramatically developed, all finishing with a flashy coda. This is the stuff that made Franz Liszt famous.

Two Concertos, One Bonfire

César Franck’s Piano Concerto No. 2

Two full-scale concertos crowned the early Franck catalogue. The first, premiered when César was twelve, vanished into his own fireplace a decade later. Not a single page survived the adult composer’s wrath.

A single sentence in Robert Stove’s biography explains the purge. “Franck personally destroyed the manuscript of his First Concerto, determined that no trace of his father’s greed should embarrass his adult reputation.”

The second, a twenty-five-minute B-minor juggernaut of pure teenage thunder miraculously escaped the flames. It was printed in 1836, but the score lay forgotten until it was dusted off in 1984.

The Exile that Forged a New Composer

In 1842, Nicolas-Joseph Franck stormed out of Paris with his family in tow. The press had turned savage, and Henri Blanchard, chief critic of the Revue et Gazette musicale, mocked the father’s “imperial” names for his sons and called the endless family concerts “aggressive commerce.”

One review actually ended with the line “Enough of the Francks!” Nicolas-Joseph yanked César from the Conservatoire mid-semester and brought the family back to Belgium for a fresh virtuoso tour.

Thankfully, the excursion only lasted eighteen months, and by the spring of 1844, the family was back in Paris. However, César had had enough. He had fallen in love with his piano student Félicité Desmousseaux, an actress from a “scandalous” theatre family.

Two years later, César walked out for good and married Félicité amid revolution barricades. He never spoke to his father again, and the break freed him from the virtuoso circus. That’s when the cathedral composer was born.

Inventing Tomorrow

César Franck at the organ

Of the twenty glittering receipts his father forced into print, only one escaped the adult Franck’s censure, the Première Grande Fantaisie, Op. 12. He played it in recitals as late as the 1880s.

Why should this have been the lone survivor? It’s rather obvious, really, because beneath the Hummel octaves and Chopin-scented trills, the fourteen-year-old boy had already invented tomorrow.

In measure 27, a four-note motif rises in the left hand, is answered by the right, and then vanishes into a storm of arpeggios. 200 measures later, it returns in the coda, now transfigured, radiant, and binding the whole fantasy together.

The young boy had discovered cyclic form, and he never let it go. That technique and trademark would later bind the D-minor Symphony and loop the Prélude, Choral et Fugue. In fact, every late masterpiece was born between a trill and a polonaise.

César Franck (1822-1890): A Birthday Tribute

by Hermione Lai

César Franck was born in the city of Liège on 10 December 1822, then part of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. His father, Nicholas-Joseph was a minor clerk, unemployed at the time, but he had great plans for his prodigious musical child.

César was a child genius who loved drawing and playing the piano. His father spotted these talents early and decided to market his young son as a piano prodigy. We come across irresponsible and ambitious parents in the arts all the time, but Nicholas-Joseph was especially aggressive.

The young César Franck

He took his son from one concert tour to the next and made him enrol at the Conservatoire, only to withdraw him from his studies for lengthy concert tours. Much later in life, César confided in his diary, “my father had grand ideas of money flowing like a river towards us, but unfortunately, it was not so.”

The press took strong exception to the highly aggressive promotional efforts of his father, and only at the age of 24 did César Franck walk out of his parent’s house, making a clear break. But life wasn’t easy as his compositions received only mixed reactions and were not embraced by the public. On the anniversary of his birth on 10 December, we decided to pay tribute to this marvellous composer who played an important role in French music.

Violin Sonata in A major, 

Let’s get started with Franck’s most famous work, the Violin Sonata in A major. Written in 1886, it is like a musical rollercoaster, full of twists and turns. It is a vibrant and passionate piece that is already a favourite for violinists and audiences. Actually, it’s considered a cornerstone of the violin repertoire and is cherished for its rich thematic material and emotional depth.

One can easily hear Franck’s famous “cyclic structure,” which just means that themes reappear in different movements. This creates a wonderful sense of unity throughout the piece. The opening theme sweeps you into a world of deep emotions, but just when you think it’s getting serious, the music lightens up and dances through playful, joyful passages.

César Franck’s Violin Sonata

The way the violin and piano work together is like a conversation, with each instrument taking turns to lead, complement, and surprise the other. With its lush harmonies and soaring melodies, the sonata has this magical ability to move you, making you feel like you’re on an exciting adventure through sound. This piece is a true gem of the late Romantic period, brimming with passion, warmth, and joy.

Symphony in D minor 

Initially, nobody much liked Franck’s D-minor symphony. It was first performed in 1889 with critics unsure about its place in the symphonic tradition. Some found the work bold and thrilling, while others were critical of the harmonic language and the overall structure. It was just too unconventional for its time. Times have changed, however, and today, it is considered one of Franck’s greatest masterpieces, full of emotional power and depth.

The music is like a thrilling, whirlwind musical journey. It’s packed with rich and sweeping themes and plenty of dramatic contrasts. The more I listen to it, the more it feels almost cinematic. There is bold and fiery energy from the very beginning, and just listen to these almost heroic declarations in the interaction between strings and brass. But it’s not all drama, as the second movement offers lush and lyrical melodies in a quiet conversation between the string and woodwinds.

The third movement is a bit of a surprise, as it is almost mischievous at times. It seems full of life and certainly puts a smile on your face. In the finale, Franck pulls out all the stops. He takes all the themes and musical ideas that have been bubbling throughout the piece and brings them together in a thrilling and triumphant conclusion. It is a masterpiece containing intense drama, moments of reflection, and pure moments of joy.

Trois Pièces for Organ

Organ of Sainte-Clotilde, Paris

Franck had always aspired to become an organist, and when he was appointed at the church of Sainte-Clotilde, his dream became a reality. As he later explained, “if you only knew how I love this instrument. It is so supple beneath my fingers and so obedient to all my thoughts.” His improvisations became legendary, and his organ compositions stand at the apex of the Romantic organ repertoire.

Franck’s Three Pieces for Organ are like musical gems, each with its own distinct character, but all combining the composer’s genius for combining passion, drama, and tenderness. Composed in 1878, these pieces are full of vivid contrasts and stunning harmonic colours, almost like sweeping landscapes painted with sound.

The “Fantaisie” transports us into a grand cathedral with organ pipes resonating through the space. Expansive chords and soaring themes offer a diverse musical flow, with moments of turbulent energy followed by calm reflections. The powerful sound of the organ takes centre stage in the “Pièce Héroïque.” It is majestic and commanding, full of energy, and almost like a call to arms. But even within this intensity, there are tender moments that add layers of emotional depth. The “Cantabile” returns to a more intimate and serene space. It is the heart of the set, a gentle and lyrical work that contrasts with the fiery drama of the previous movements.

Prelude, Fugue, and Variation

As I wrote in the introduction, Franck was an exceptional pianist. For a time, he seemed to be in competition with Franz Liszt. They personally met on a couple of occasions, and Liszt later wrote to a friend. “He will find the road steeper and rockier than others may, for, as I have told you, he made the fundamental error of being christened César-Auguste, and, in addition, I fancy he is lacking in that convenient social sense that opens all doors before him.”

Clearly, Franck was never comfortable under the glaring light of the virtuoso stage, and to prove that point, he composed the “Prelude, Fugue, and Variation” in 1884. Franck was at the height of his maturity as a composer, and this beautiful and intricate work, initially for organ but later arranged for solo piano, reflects Franck’s rich harmonic language and his deep understanding of counterpoint. It’s basically a homage to Bach, and each section offers a different way of approaching the initial theme.

Franck introduces us to a beautifully simple theme that is immediately inviting and conversational. The real fun begins in the “Fugue” when Franck stretches out the theme, and each new entry of the theme adds its own twist. He also incorporates surprising harmonic turns or playful rhythms, with each voice giving a new level of depth to the original theme. In the “Variation”, he dresses the theme in different costumes, with each variation showing a new side of its character. He certainly is having fun exploring all the possibilities of what the theme has to offer.

The Cursed Hunter

Pierre Petit: César Franck

I just love a good story translated into music. And that is exactly what Franck did in 1883 when he composed “The Cursed Hunter.” It tells the story of the count of the Rhineland who commits the sacrilege of going hunting on a Sunday. He happily ignores the sound of the bells and the singing of the faithful on their way to Mass. But very soon, his horse stopped, and his hunting horn fell silent. A terrifying voice utter a horrendous curse; the huntsman is condemned to ride forever, pursued by demons.

Franck’s symphonic poem, and he composed five such colourful stories in music, is a wild ride through a dark and eerie forest full of dramatic twists and unexpected turns. He brings the legend of the hunter to life with a mix of spooky moments and frantic energy. It all starts with a somewhat mysterious theme, setting the mood for the cursed ride.

The music continues to build, and the orchestra bursts into action with various bold and sweeping melodies that hint at danger. As you might expect from this story, the rhythm is relentless as it mimics the endless chase. Darker and more ominous tones suggest the curse, but finally, it seems that the chase might be over. It all ends in a dramatic and unresolved way, but it is clear that the hunter won’t escape. What a thrilling and atmospheric work, full of suspense and excitement; that’s why I love symphonic poems.

Symphonic Variations 

Franck composed his Symphonic Variations for piano and orchestra in 1885. One of Franck’s most approachable compositions, it showcases the composer’s love for harmonic complexity and his mastery of orchestration. However, it also contains moments of deep emotional richness.

The principal theme is introduced by the piano. It is an elegant and simple theme, almost a dreamy melody that is then echoed and explored by the full orchestra. What is really fun about this piece is how Frank takes that theme and spins it into something new and exciting with every variation. He offered different moods, tempos, and textures, alternating between light and playful utterances and bold and dramatic statements.

A real highlight of this work is the interaction between the piano and orchestra, with the theme constantly evolving. It certainly reveals the composer’s deep understanding of both thematic development and orchestral colour. To be sure, Franck uses his gift for blending beauty and drama in a mixture of elegance and compositional genius. It’s a wonderful example of blending tradition with innovation, and it is one of the composer’s most accessible works.

“Nocturne” 

The mélodies by César Franck were only known to a small circle of connoisseurs during his lifetime. Today, however, they are recognised for their expressive power and the composer’s ability to merge lyrical melodies with rich and complex harmonies. A scholar wrote, “His contributions to the French mélodie genre helped bridge the gap between the more traditional Romantic style and the more modern, impressionistic approaches that were developing around the turn of the 20th century.”

César Franck at the organ

One of my favourite is “Nocturne,” composed in 1882. It is the setting of a poem by Paul Verlaine and captures the serene and contemplative atmosphere of the night. The gently flowing melody is both lyrical and expressive, with the piano providing a shimmering backdrop. And you can hear how Franck’s chromatic harmonic and shifts of tonality enhance the sense of longing conveyed in Verlaine’s text. What a wonderful mélodie, both tender and sophisticated, as it fuses emotional depth with harmonic complexity.

Panis Angelicus (Angelic Bread)

César Franck’s Panis Angelicus

Stanley Sadie described César Franck as “a man of utmost humility, simplicity, reverence and industry.” We have seen that his reputation rests largely with a few large-scale orchestral and instrumental works of his later years. However, most of his compositions are associated with his employment as an organist, a position he held for over 30 years. Naturally, he composed a vast number of organ compositions, but we also find numerous sacred vocal works.

Among his most celebrated compositions is a musical setting of “Panis Angelius,” a serene piece that feels like a musical prayer. The title refers to the Eucharist, and it was composed in 1872 as part of a larger work. The music perfectly captures a sense of reverence and tranquillity, and the simple melody is surrounded by lush harmonies that give it an almost heavenly quality.

Franck’s setting has been described as invoking a sense of “serene anxiety.” This musical paradox also governs the vocal line, as the soloist performs a melody of angelic lyricism enriched by surprising harmonic inflection and the occasional strain of chromatic intonation.

I hope you enjoyed our little excursion into the musical world of César Franck, a world full of emotional intensity and spirituality. Franck was a wonderful composer whose reputation, especially outside of France, took a little longer to develop. But his influence remains powerful, specifically in organ music and in late-Romantic orchestral and chamber works. Happy Birthday Mr. Franck.

Composers and their Poets: Ernest Chausson

 by Maureen Buja ,  Interlude

  

French Chansons Composed by Ernest Chausson

Ernest Chausson, by Guy & Mockel, Paris (ca. 1897)

French composer Ernest Chausson’s early death in a bicycle accident cut short a career just as it was beginning to flourish. His position as secretary of the Société Nationale de Musique for 13 years put him at the centre of France’s active music networks. He studied with Massenet and César Franck at the Paris Conservatoire, which he attended at the relatively advanced age of 24, was friends with Vincent d’Indy, and many other composers including Henri Duparc, Gabriel Fauré, Claude Debussy, and Isaac Albéniz. He also knew the poet Mallarmé, although he never set any of his poetry, and the painter Monet.

Chausson, standing, turning pages for Debussy (1893)

The poets he set include Camille Mauclair (1872-1945), Jean Richepin (1849-1926), Alfred de Musset (1810-1857), Leconte de Lisle (1818-1894), Maurice Bouchor (1855-1929), and Maurice Maeterlinck (1849-1949), among others. If we look just at his contemporaries, Camille Mauclair, Maurice Bouchor, and Maurice Maeterlinck, we have three poets of very different sensibilities.

Camille Mauclair by Lucien Lévy-Dhurmer (1896)

Camille Mauclair (the pseudonym of Séverin Faust) was not only a poet but also a novelist, biographer, travel writer, and critic. He was an admirer of Mallarmé and was most famous for his roman à clef, Le Soleil des Morts (1898). For his contemporaries, it was brilliant portrait of the leading actors in the arts of his day, including writers, artists, critics, and musicians. For us, it has become an important historical document about the French avant-garde at the end of the nineteenth century. One of the most musically relevant portraits in the novel is that of Debussy at the premiere of “Prélude à L’Après-midi d’un faune”. Chausson appears in the book as ‘Rudolphe Méreuse’ and is the dedicatee of the novel. He is, in the novel, praised as ‘ …the composer whose symphonies, with those of César Franck, were the only original works to appear since Wagner.’

Mauclair provided the words for Chausson’s Op. 27 lieder. The first song, Les heures, casts us directly into the shadowy decadent world of the French fin du siècle: the piano provides a mordent background to the poet, ‘singing until death’ the pale hours of the night. 

Maurice Bouchor

Maurice Bouchor was a poet and playwright with an interest in music. He worked with the musician Julien Tiersot to preserve French folk songs and published a book of them for use in schools.

His poetry was set extensively, and Chausson set it a number of times, most memorably in his Op. 8 set. This set of four poems describes love in all aspects: from the young love in the first poem, the memory of a former lover in the second, to the broken heart of ‘Printemps triste’ and the memories of the happy past in ‘Nos souvenirs’. 

Maurice Maeterlinck

The Belgian playwright, poet and essayist Maurice Maeterlinck was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1911. At the end of the 19th century and into the early 20th century, he was a source of musical inspiration: Debussy set his Pelléas and Mélisande, and it inspired Gabriel Fauré, Arnold Schoenberg, Jean Silbelius and others. 13 of his other plays were also made into operas, inspired symphonic poems, or had incidental music written for them by some 40 composers. His plays forged a new style, an example of which can be seen in Pelléas and Mélisande: the setting is lean and spare and the characters have no foresight and a limited view and understanding of themselves and the world they inhabit. The forces that compel people, not the emotions that drive them, was the centre of his style.

Maeterlinck’s first collection of poetry, Serres chaudes (Hothouses) (1889), was the source for Chausson’s Op. 24 song cycle. The second song, ‘Serre d’ennui’ (Hothouse boredom), seems to capture the overly humid confines of a hothouse, where boredom is blue but is captured within a green world where all is still. 

Chausson set poetry by many other poets, including Verlaine, Baudelaire, Leconte de Lisle, and Gautier. In his brief life, Chausson brought the French chanson forward out of the Romanticism found in composers such as Massenet and Franck and closer to the more introspective world found in Debussy’s work.

When Luciano Pavarotti sang with his 88-year-old father in an emotional duet

Updated: 3 January 2023, 19:55

Luciano and Fernando Pavarotti. Picture: Facebook / The Tenor / Rai Uno

By Kyle Macdonald, ClassicFM London

 

The touching moment when a father joined his son for a very special performance of a beloved sacred song. 

When a former baker took to the stage with opera’s biggest star, it was a story about music spanning the generations.

Legendary tenor Luciano Pavarotti was born in 1935 in Modena, Northern Italy. His father, Fernando Pavarotti, was a baker, and his mother, Adele Venturi, a cigar factory worker.

Fernando Pavarotti was an amateur singer with a fine tenor voice. Years later, his son said Fernando had turned down the possibility of a singing career because of stage fright and nerves.

The family was poor in those early days, but his father’s passion for music opened a new world for his son. Luciano’s first encounters with singing and opera came through both his singing and listening to his father’s collection of albums from the great tenors of the day.

Luciano Pavarotti went on to study singing and began singing opera roles in the 1960s. Legendary breakthroughs at the Royal Opera House in London’s Covent Garden and New York’s Metropolitan Opera made a huge star of the opera world.

A few years later, thanks to the 1990 Football World Cup in Italy, The Three Tenors, and his always-glistening high notes, he became a true household name.

But he never forgot where he came from, or his musical roots.

In 2001, 88-year-old amateur tenor Fernando joined his son for a duet. Together they sang César Franck’s ‘Panis Angelicus’.  

Nearing 90 years of age, Fernando’s best singing voice may well have been behind him. But it’s the looks of love and pride between the two of them that make this a very special moment of music.

They have duetted in previous years. Here’s another performance of the same sacred song, recorded in the cathedral of their home town in 1978 (watch below).

A baker who loved his music, and a tenor who changed the course of classical music. Two Pavarottis, bravo to you both.