A Revolution in Song: Music and the Beginnings of French Democracy

We are happy to share the following guest blog post from Case Western Reserve University doctoral student Ellen Sauer Tanyeri. Ellen’s research interests include 19th-century American sheet music and the interplay of musical genre in France at the time of the French Revolution. Ellen joined us for a 2025 summer fellowship at the Music Division, working with the processing team assigned to the Kronos Quartet Archive.

As I finish a fellowship in the Music Division, I wanted to explore how my own doctoral research into the musical backdrop of the French Revolution intersects with the Library’s collections. What better time than the summer, when Independence Day and Bastille Day occur, to remember the ways in which the American and the French Revolutions were inextricably linked.

Any mention of music and the French Revolution inevitably conjures Claude-Michel Schönberg and Alain Boublil’s beloved musical Les Misérables (recently playing at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts). Or else, the pairing may recall dramatic performances along the Seine during last fall’s Opening Ceremony for the 2024 Paris Olympics. But these associations are merely an echo of the deep historical roots of music and the Revolution.

From the very beginnings of unrest in pre-revolutionary France, song played a pivotal role in galvanizing citizens and spreading important information. Political broadsides—with new sets of lyrics to be sung to familiar tunes—were hawked on the Pont Neuf, often competing with response songs from the opposing camp. across the political aisle.

After the monarchy was overthrown, the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, Assembly speeches, and proposed legislation were sung from street corners to keep even illiterate citizens apprised of the rapidly changing situation. Even in the more refined setting of the opera houses, music was increasingly politicized. The aria “O Richard, O mon Roi” (from André Grétry’s 1784 opera Richard Cœur-de-lion) became a rallying cry for monarchists, while revolutionaries bellowed “Ça Ira” [roughly, “It Will Be Fine”] from the audience in defiance. On more than one occasion, performances had to be halted and police summoned to break up the musical mayhem.

Along with “Ça Ira,” the most famous and recognizable songs of the revolutionary period were “La Carmagnole” and “La Marseillaise.” French composer and woodwind player François Devienne incorporated all three into his programmatic Symphony in D major, “La Bataille de Gemmapp.” Much like a World War II newsreel, this piece told the story of an early battle in the French Revolutionary Wars (against the Austrians at Jemappes) to audiences safely in theaters at home. Alongside the revolutionary hymns signifying victory, Devienne’s dramatic score indicated cannon volleys, trumpet calls, cavalry marches, military commands, and laments for the wounded and dying.

Indeed, under the First Republic, music was an essential tool of social control and coordination as the government sought to replace religious ceremonies with civic celebrations. Poets were recruited to compose nationalistic texts, which opera composers set to music for grand festivals featuring hundreds and even thousands of amateur singers.

Outside of France, music told the story of the Revolution and, especially in the young American democracy, symbolized liberty. One early nineteenth century American printing of “La Marseillaise” speaks to the use of French songs in similarly grandiose spectacles across the Atlantic. The subtitle declares that this arrangement was “sung at the Washington Parade Ground,” while a caption at the bottom reads, “The following Ode was printed on a movable stage and distributed to the citizens during the procession”—evoking images of printing presses on parade floats amidst clambering throngs of singing onlookers.

Many volumes of bound sheet music assembled by American women in the nineteenth century include settings of “La Marseillaise” alongside American patriotic tunes and political marches. In some cases, these piano settings included brilliant variations, taking the anthem beyond the merely patriotic and into the realm of virtuosity.

It is perhaps no surprise that “La Marseillaise” lends itself better to variation than other Revolutionary songs. Like earlier broadsides, the melodies of “Ça Ira” and “La Carmagnole” predate their famous lyrics and were chosen for their simplicity and repetition. “La Marseillaise,” on the other hand, was specially composed in response to threats from international coalition forces. The sense of courage, resolve, and musical grandiosity baked in from the beginning inspired volunteer forces from Marseille to sing it on their march into Paris in 1792 and laid the foundation for subsequent centuries of musical adaptations—from early piano variations to the Beatles and beyond.