The Martyrs of Compiègne: The Power of Sacred Music and "The Dialogues of the Carmelites"
As the French state celebrates Bastille day this week, the Church celebrates the sixteen Carmelite nuns of Compiègne, martyrs who were murdered by the French Revolutionaries.
The story of these heroic sisters has since inspired a novel, a screenplay, a film, and an opera. Francis Poulenc composed an opera in the 1950s and used Georges Bernanos’ screenplay as the libretto. Although I usually write about paintings on this substack, today I am going to focus my attention on this opera simply because the martyrdom of these sisters, who walked to the guillotine singing the “Veni Creator Spiritus” and the “Salve Regina,” is most beautifully expressed with music.
The opera follows a young nun, the beautiful and aristocratic Blanche de la Force, who enters the convent against the wishes of her father, the Marquis, and her brother. When Blanche comes to the convent, the prioress takes Blanche under her wing, even though she can see that the anxious girl is torn between her fear and her desire to live a heroic life.
In Blanche’s first exchange with the nuns, the Prioress warns her:
No, my child, ours is not a profession of mortification, nor are we guardians of virtue; we are a house of prayer, prayer alone justifies our existence, and he who does not believe in prayer can but take us for impostors or parasites...
Our Rule is not a refuge. It is not the Rule which protects us, my daughter, it is we who protect the Rule.1
The words of the prioress echo throughout the opera. The sisters never stop praying or protecting their Rule, even as it costs them their life.
The first act begins with conversations and an awareness of coming persecution. It culminates with the harrowing death of the first prioress. The exchanges between the sisters touch on spiritual topics such as honor, the sacrifice of Christ, prayer, atonement, virtue, death—and they invite us to contemplate these matters along with the sisters. These scenes are full of frank discussions about the working of grace which prove to fortify the sisters when their honor is tested by the cruelty of the revolutionaries later in the opera.
When the French Revolutionaries do throw the sisters out of the convent and later arrest them, we know why the nuns act as they do, despite their fears and doubts. After the revolutionary officer taunts the sisters saying, “The people have no need of servants.” Mother Marie retorts, “No but they have a great need for martyrs.”
The haunting finale is among the most moving and memorable in all of opera. As the sisters process to the guillotine singing the “Salve Regina,” their voices are extinguished one by one. Finally, at the last moment, Blanche, who had fled her sisters in fear, returns to die with them, just in time to share a warm embrace with her friend, Sister Constance. Blanche joins the procession singing clearly and confidently the last verse of the “Veni Creator Spiritus” before she too meets her death.
By the time the sisters walk to the guillotine singing the “Salve Regina” we feel as though we know them—their fears and loves. This does not diminish the power of their heroic martyrdom but heightens our appreciation of it. It makes us realize both the immensity of their own sacrifice and of the grace they received to walk the road of Calvary. The emotion is also magnified by our realization that this opera is not entirely fictional, but based on the real martyrdom of the sixteen sisters of Compiègne who processed to their death singing sacred music.
Sister Marie de l'Incarnation, who was away from her sisters when they were captured, wrote the first account of these martyrs. Inspired by the lives of these heroic sisters, Gertrud von Le Fort wrote The Song on the Scaffold in 1931, developing the character of Blanche de La Force. The great 20th century spiritual writer, George Bernanos, adapted the novel into a screenplay shortly before his death 1948. This screenplay helped inspire the 1960 film and became the libretto for Francis Poulenc’s magnificent opera, Dialogues of the Carmelites. The opera was immediately popular upon its first showing in 1957, and it has been staged every couple of years at the Metropolitan Opera since its first performance there in 1977.
Dialogues of the Carmelites is not your conventional romantic opera. It is a religious drama of the interior life —and of martyrdom. There are no dramatic arias or star-crossed lovers.
Poulenc wanted the themes of Bernanos’ text to shine through the music and wrote to a friend: "If I am to succeed with this work it will only be through the music identifying absolutely with the Bernanos spirit. Very light orchestration to allow the text to come through."2
What is this spirit? It is the spirit of Christian honor, which Bernanos says is "the fusion of human honor and the charity of Christ."3 Thus, honor requires a bold humility which inspires total conformity with Christ and a willingness to participate in His agony.
According to Bernanos, the honorable Christian does not roll over to the demands of the world, as Mother Marie does not roll over to the demands of the French guards. No, for Bernanos, Christian honor entails joi de vivre— “that violent and jealous gusto for life that is just the stuff out of which martyrs are made."4
Unlike much of modern orchestral music, the music of this opera is lyrical, melodious and tonal. It is an interesting choice on the part of French composer, Francis Poulenc. One would expect a modern opera about the French Revolution to be filled with a frenzied atonal score—and yet Poulenc did not go this route. He was aware that this choice may be considered odd and explained himself this way in the dedication of the opera: “You must forgive my Carmelites. It seems they can only sing tonal music.”5
Although the murderous violence of the revolutionaries threatens the sisters, they cling to their vows, to prayer, to Christ. When France goes up in flames, the nuns continue to carry out their duty, even as their convent is desecrated by the so-called “patriots.” Thus, the music does not reflect the interior life of the frenzied mob, but the religious life of the sisters. This life is not free of fear, drama, disagreement, or anguish—as the agonizing death of the prioress and the name of Blanche of the Agony of the Christ remind us—but it is one that clings to prayer and to vows despite fear and external threats.
Beautiful hymns punctuate some of the most powerful parts of both the film and opera calling us to contemplation along with the sisters. Thus, the most memorable musical pieces are the religious pieces—the “Ave Maria” in Act I, the “Ave Verum Corpus” in Act II, and the “Salve Regina” in Act III.
I first saw the opera in 2019—when the Metropolitan Opera had it streamed in local theaters. (You can watch this performance, which I highly recommend, on YouTube or Apple TV.) Although it was obviously meant to be seen in the theater, the opera itself has a cinematic quality which lends itself to film.
It is an intimate opera, and seeing the contrast between the close ups of the nuns’ faces and the shots of their bodies imposed upon the cross is quite powerful. Through the impeccable staging of John Dexter, which is both simple and grand, the Met creates creates iconic visual tableaus which are not easily forgotten.6 The black and white set and clothing complements the simple beauty of the ascetic life in the cloister and gives poignant contrast to the dark insanity of the revolution.
Although tragic, this opera is not grim. Light moments of friendship and quarreling mix with serious conversation as well as moments of terror. The tormented character of Blanche is foiled by the joyful and childlike Sister Constance. Also, the variety of voices, especially in the 2019 Met performance, balances the emotional heaviness of the subject matter —from the bell-like clarity of sweet Constance to the fragile purity of anxious Blanche and the luscious depth of stern mother Marie to the warm richness the second Prioress.
Ultimately, the martyrdom and singing of these Carmelites was such a testament to the beauty of Christ and the riches of His Church that the Reign of Terror in Paris ended just nine days after their execution. During their deaths, the usually loud mob went completely silent.
Indeed, it could be said that the power of sacred music, sung by holy nuns, helped to end the revolution. In encountering the musical prayer of these martyrs, perhaps the people of France then remembered the pure beauty and innocence of Christ himself, and the love which moved Him to die for us.
Further reading and watching:
Dialogues of the Carmelites, trans. Michael Legat, in The Heroic Face of Innocence: Three Stories by Georges Bernanos. (This book includes Bernanos’ full text. Poulenc used much of the Bernanos, but took some parts out for the opera.) Amazon link: https://a.co/d/aXuFIXq
The Song at the Scaffold by Gertrud von Le Fort. (This is the novel about the sisters). Ignatius Press link: https://ignatius.com/the-song-at-the-scaffold-soscp/
To Quell the Terror: The True Story of the Carmelite Martyrs of Compiegne by William Bush. ICS Press link: https://www.icspublications.org/products/to-quell-the-terror-the-true-story-of-the-carmelite-martyrs-of-compiegne?srsltid=AfmBOorochvjWuObrL0ckqvV-M5DpMRfb6vW2jREplS7k_EdgTYMorGK
The 2019 Met performance of Dialogues of the Carmelites:
The 1960 French film Le Dialogue des Carmélites (with subtitles):
Georges Bernanos, Dialogues of the Carmelites, trans. Michael Legat, in The Heroic Face of Innocence: Three Stories by Georges Bernanos (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), 63-64.
Mark Bosco, "Georges Bernanos and Francis Poulenc: Catholic Convergences in Dialogues of the Carmelites," Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 11, no. 2 (2008): 33, https://muse.jhu.edu/article/237139.
Mark Bosco, p. 30
Ibid, p. 30
Metropolitan Opera. "Dialogues des Carmélites Playbill, April 4, 1987." Nightly Opera Streams, Week 47. https://www.metopera.org/globalassets/user-information/nightly-opera-streams/week-47/ playbils/carmelites-telecast-program.pdf.
My one complaint is the horrible Crucifix.
Congratulations, Mrs. Amelia McKee, for this remarkable review! I am truly glad to discover such amazing gems - and you truly revealed to us a black pearl.
Thanks for this inspiring post. I reposted it as a kind of penance for posting a light-hearted memoir on July 14 about being foiled by Parisian gendarmes one year when I was in Paris for the only time and trying to go to celebrations of Bastille day. As one reader commented, a Catholic shouldn't celebrate the start of the bloody atheistic French Revolution which led to such things as the martyrdom of those brave Carmelite nuns. I'm delighted to learn more about the opera and see your affirmation of the power of sacred music. Keep up the terrific work!