'Tis going, I own, like the Knight of the Woeful Countenance in quest of melancholy adventures. But I know not how it is, but I am never so perfectly conscious of the existence of a soul within me, as when I am entangled in them.'
-Laurence Sterne: A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy (London, 1768)
A historic overview
The repertoire presented on this record offers a broad overview of late seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century music from France. Rather than highlighting the grand gestures and theatrical spectacles of the absolutist reign of Louis XIV, we focus on intimate, delicate and sensuous chamber pieces of the time.
During the decades in which the works we perform were born, major stylistic changes occurred in the musical life of France. We can differentiate three fairly distinctive categories: the "pure French style" (Monsieur de Saint-Colombe, Robert de Visée and Jean-Baptiste de Bousset), the "French style with Italianate influence" (Pierre-Danican Philidor, Jacques Martin Hotteterre and François Couperin), and the "united style with gallant elements" (Charles Buterne).
At the height of his power, after listening to a dazzlingly virtuosic Italian violinist followed by a mediocre French musician performing a plain French air, Louis XIV famously turned to the Italian player whilst pointing at his own courtier: "All I can say, sir, is that that is my taste." During this time the tone of the musical language was set by the extremely ambitious court composer of the King, Jean-Baptiste Lully. The favoured style was proudly "pure", and foreign influences were not welcome.
However, from the early 1700s as twilight set on the Sun King's reign, this purity began to vanish step by step. Lully was dead, and a new generation of composers flourished - many of them keen consumers of the rival Italian style. Amongst others, Jacques Martin Hotteterre spent a short period of time in Rome (hence his sobriquet "Le Romain"), and François Couperin hugely admired the great Italian composer Arcangelo Corelli. In 1724, a few years after the death of Louis XIV, Couperin published a work with symbolic relevance, Le Gout-reunis, or the "styles reunited".
In the following decades this entangling of styles gradually gained prominence, and by 1745, the publication date of the latest piece in our programme, the fusion was complete. At this point, not only musical structure and compositional language represented the combined styles, but a pinch of gallanterie had been added to follow the newest fashion.
Notes on the individual pieces
The name "Philidor" was famously mentioned in the preface of François Couperin's Concert Royeaux (alongside "Messieurs Duval, Alarius, and Dubois"), and we know that this illustrious group of musicians performed the above-mentioned pieces as an ensemble in the presence of Louis XIV. Unfortunately, as the Philidors were a large family of musicians - at the time three of them (André, Anne and Pierre) were close to the King - we cannot be entirely sure to whom Couperin was referring to. However, in 1712 and 1714 the King singled out Pierre for the "satisfaction His Majesty has of his services".
Originally a piece for oboe or flute in d minor, we perform a rendition of Pierre Philidor's Suite No. 5 in g minor. The suite, similarly to Italian sonatas of the time, consists only of four movements, arranged in the common slow-fast-slow-fast structure. The tone of both slow movements have an almost hopelessly melancholic nature, the fast movements on the other hand suggest poignant strength and exasperation.
Solo viol music became highly popular in late seventeenth-century France, often characterized by multiple stops and ornamental figures, imitating the manner of a lute. Although Monsieur de Saint-Colombe was perhaps the most famous viol player of his time, not much is known of his life today. He never held a royal position, but taught several of the foremost players of the following generation, including Marin Marais and Jean Rousseau. In his Suite in d minor, we meet his unique style, distinguishable by irregular and meandering melodies, and complemented by the avoidance of rhythmic patterning.
Similarly to Pierre Philidor, Jacques Martin Hotteterre was also part of a large musical family. Many of the Hotteterres were not only known as performers and composers, but also as instrument makers, thus being pioneers in the improvements of wind playing technique during the late seventeenth century. Jean Martin was primarily active as an oboist and flautist. In 1708 he was appointed as grand hautbois du roy, and later, in 1717, he received the title flutte de la chambre du roy.
His Suite No. 3 consists of six short, yet contrasting movements. The Allemande is named after the waterfall of St. Claude, and the character of the music represents exquisitely a nature inspired image. This is followed by a gentle, pastoral-like Sarabande, a careless Courante, a sorrowful Rondeau, and a small and delicate Menuet. The piece is concluded with a Gigue L'Italienne, which feels like a caricature of Frenchmen attempting to appear as Italians.
An interesting feature of the suite is that there is no prelude included - an otherwise common characteristic of similar works. In 1719 Hotteterre published a treatise, L'Art de Préluder, on the art of improvised preludes. As described by him, these introductory pieces were meant to have a marooning character, not entirely of an arbitrary nature, but following quite a clear harmonic progression. Inspired by this, it felt appropriate to add a prelude - la Hotteterre in order to set the tone for the suite.
Robert de Visée was, for a time, a busy lutenist and composer in the service of Louis XIV, primarily active as a musician of the royal chamber in Versailles. In 1719 he received the title maître de guitare du roy, and as well as being a master of plucked instruments, he was also a singer and viol player.
De Visée's dexterous pieces for the theorbo are affecting and yet remain indisputably within the confining forms of the vernacular court dances. His style combines elegant simplicity with imaginative melodies and inventive harmonies, seizing the full potential of the instrument. The majority of his surviving compositions for theorbo can be found in the Saizenay Manuscript, including the suite recorded for this album.
Barely anything is known about the life of Charles Buterne. He was the son of the highly esteemed organist and harpsichordist Jean-Baptiste Buterne, and before devoting himself entirely to music in 1745, he was reputed to have belonged to the Royal Life Guards.
On the title page of the collection, from which the Sonata in c minor stems, Buterne clearly specifies that these pieces can be performed on recorder. This is quite surprising, as by the collection's publication date of 1745, recorders had past their heyday of popularity throughout Europe. The first movement of the sonata is somewhat old-fashioned and has a tenderly reminiscing character. This is followed by a virtuosic Allegro, full of Italianate fireworks of semiquavers, and the piece is drawn to a close with a pair of gallant Minuettos.
Not only has the nightingale had the most successful career of all literary birds, but it has also been extremely popular in different musical contexts. Its Latin name, luscinia, means by all likelihood "singer of grief", and its melodious song with mournful tones has inspired several composers. François Couperin's Le Rossignol en amour stems from his Troisième Livre de Pieces. Although he originally composed it for harpsichord, at the end of the piece he adds a little comment suggesting that it can also be played on the flute.
In Couperin's rendition the nightingale performs a hopeful love song, which we follow with a brunette by Jean-Baptiste de Bousset. In the original song by de Bousset rather than hearing the voice of the nightingale, we listen to a lover pleading to the nightingale: 'Why, sweet nightingale, in this dark place, do you wake me before the break of day? / Have you come to announce to my heart, that she whom I adore has returned? / Why, sweet nightingale, in this dark place, do you wake me before the break of day? / But if Climàne, still too indifferent to my love, leaves my heart to be consumed in its own fire, / Why, sweet nightingale, in this dark place, do you wake me before the break of day?'. The version we perform includes ornaments written by Hotteterre, and provides a simple yet hauntingly beautiful conclusion to our melancholic journey.
A brief remark on the performance
The often introspective and melancholic nature of the music presented here can perhaps be carefully paralleled with certain ideas on motion. The relation between mouvement and mesure has particular relevance - the late seventeenth-century viol player Jean Rousseau writes the following about these two terminologies:
'What the difference is between Mesure and Mouvement? The answer: Mesure is a path; of which the end is Mouvement. Just as there is a difference between the path itself and to where that path leads: so we differentiate between Mesure and Mouvement. And as the voice or singing must be led by Mesure, Mesure will be conducted and enlivened by Mouvement.'
-Jean Rousseau: Méthode claire, certaine et facile pour apprendre - chanter la musique
(Paris, 1678)
Through this duality a certain "objective freedom" occurs, where the guiding pulse is complemented by a loose rhythmic treatment within. As a result, the music often represents an intriguing mixture of physical progression, and yet simultaneously an almost static timelessness. Thus, the musical and temporal perception of seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century France can be characterized as having a circular, or "rondeau-like" feel to it, rather than a forward moving, linear nature. Whilst absorbing these pieces, the graceful variations on the momentary gain increasing importance, and attention to the future gradually fades away.
László Rózsa
November 2017
